My pants are looser…

After the daily early morning dog walk, be-draped in worn out track pants and shapeless sweaters, I began the also-daily and mildly panicked search through my closet for something more or less decent to wear to work, and most important, for something that fit.

If I rub my lamp 3 times, will she come to my closet?

By accident, I grabbed pants I’d set aside because I could barely button them a few months ago. And today, after a mere month of diet and exercise reform, they fit, and maybe even just a teensy little bit loosely. Not falling off me…no danger of major embarrassment at work…just not a waistband like a death grip.

I was happy about this – within reason. Because of an adult lifetime of diet mania, I have experienced the dizzying elevator ride of clothing sizes – up and down – up and down – penthouse and basement – and the accompanying glee or despair, about a gajillion times. Wrote, directed, produced, starred and co-starred in that movie, its prequel and sequel. Too much?

Seriously, I could have clothed entire villages in what I have grown into, out of, way out of, either way. I have given clothes to smaller or larger friends. I have made countless trips to charities and Salvation Army bins.

I don’t feel good about this – this manic wardrobe acquisition and distribution throws in my face issues of waste, privilege, and consumerism, not to mention failure, compulsion and body angst.

Here’s what I know now, however. I can’t do one blessed thing about the past; certainly mucking around in it wishing it were different or berating myself about it does nothing, nothing at all. I have right now, today – that’s it.

I know this is an old adage. I didn’t really get it until this past year of tumult and change and new choices. But it’s become quite clear that while we might like to rewrite the past or completely control the future, the only thing that really makes sense is paying attention to the gift of ‘right now’; and the only thing we can really influence is how we think and feel about things. And we can try to get rid of the ‘mind-forged manacles‘.

Well, I’m still a novice…learning lessons perhaps a little late in life, but still learning, happily.

And so today, I’m choosing to celebrate the ‘possible’ pound or two of  weight loss (Maybe I just stretched the pants unconsciously). That’s part of the goal, yes, for sure. But it’s not everything. It’s not the whole picture.

In fact, instead of focusing on what I’m losing, I’m trying to embrace what I’m gaining – and building. I am gaining strength – today. I am building a healthy life – today. I am changing on the inside – and outside (eventually).

Second chapter of this post: Sorry for the 2 in 1

I didn’t post about last night’s workout, not because it wasn’t good, because it was. So for anyone still reading…we began last night’s sweatfest with something called (I think) a sumo squat deadlift.

The caption said never lift kettlebell over face. No problem.

You can’t imagine the mental image I conjured when Stefan came out with that one! So it involves standing with your legs fairly wide apart, toes out – yeah, just like the wrestler pics we’ve all seen and squatting down, picking up what I learned was a kettlebell (which I’m pretty sure Stefan said was 26kg – that’s over 50 lbs of solid cast iron!!), and doing this a bunch of times.

So that was new. And tough. And weird. It’s hard to describe the feeling of lifting such concentrated weight in a relatively small object over and over. It’s got a Zen dimension to it…it doesn’t seem real, somehow, because the mind just won’t accept that this small thing actually weighs a ton. I will admit here that for round 2 of these, Stefan lowered the weight – I was struggling. After this and more, I felt tired and wonderful.

Next workout: Saturday morning instead of Friday night. Stefan basically told me that by Friday, my limbs are more linguini than rockhard muscle. So we’re checking out this new schedule to see if a longer break would help.

And now the day has come full circle – going to eat soon and walk the dog. (And maybe purge the closet. Or not.)

 

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