Turning 40 didn’t bother me much until my grandma, God rest her soul, lovingly pointed out to me that I had probably already lived half my life. Her observation remained a special joke between us until her death 8 years later. I thought 40 was bad. I’m a big enough person to admit when I’m wrong. I’ve been dreading 50 like a farmer dreads drought.
The years between 40 and 50 have not exactly been kind to me. Or should I say they have not been kind to my body. Then again, I’m pretty sure I’m partly (OK, mostly) to blame as well. Mother Nature only takes care of us up to a point; after that, it’s up to us to pick up where She leaves off.
My early 40s found me in pretty decent shape: an easy size 3, tanned skin with no sun damage, no crows feet, and just a sprinkling of gray that was easily taken care of with a little help from Miss Clairol. Although I worked in an office, I wasn’t chained to a desk so I got a fair amount of exercise and burned off at least as many calories and carbs as I consumed. We also lived on a farm where taking care of horses, mowing grass, and cutting limbs and brush were part of my regular activities. If you don’t like going to the gym, just by some acreage and a few horses.
Just before turning 43, I landed a job with an insurance company, where I still work today. Not only does this job keep me desk-bound, I’ve add nearly 2 extra hours a day of sitting while driving to and from work. And to top things off, about 3 years ago I started working four 10-hour days per week. So now not only do I get absolutely no exercise while at work—unless you count typing and talking on the phone, which I believe burns about 50 calories per year—after a 12 hour day I just can’t seem to motivate myself to exercise when I get home. I’ve also discovered the wonderful world of cyberspace and all its many gems: e-mail, Facebook, chat threads, online stories…all of which are immensely entertaining, but sadly offer exercise only of the cerebral variety. As a result, my weight and dress size, much to my horror, are advancing more rapidly than my age. And here's the proof:
After trying nearly every fad diet known to modern man – all without much success, I might add – I’ve come to the realization that if I have any hope at all of fitting back into my skinny jeans before I die, I need to completely overhaul my eating and exercise habits.
So, I’ve decided I’m going to shed 40 pounds before my 50th birthday. Not with any superdiet or personal trainer, but just by healthy eating and lots of exercise. A lofty goal? Maybe. Doable? Absolutely. My journey to a “new me” will be chronicled on this blog…every veggie-eating, sweaty-workout, pain-and-fun-filled day. My goal is to post every Sunday, detailing my progress for the week ending the previous Wednesday. (Gotta have a little time to write it all up!) With the help of my wonderful family and friends, I know that on December 29th I can greet 50 with a smile, look it in the eye, and tell it to kiss my ass.
