After the holidays ended in January I noticed a distinct additional inch of fat around my waist. This is part of my “not caring what people think of me” campaign that I successfully have been waging. If I am thin or fat, I love myself. Well, when that inch appeared it all fell apart. I might have loved myself but I have hated that additional inch and have struggled with what to do about it. Now, mind you, I didn’t do anything about it actually, but I have struggled.
I had told myself that I wanted to lose 5 pounds this year. Now I only have 10 to go.
I went online and looked at buying a tread-mill. I realized I have no place to put it and I also read the statistics that 95% of people who buy them regret the decision 6 months later. They end up collecting dust and become clothes hanging magnets.
I am a member of my local gym but haven’t been since after Thanksgiving and before Christmas. That is always a great guilt period for me. Now was the time though. When 5 pounds turns to 10 it becomes significant and I become one of those government statistics on Americans being overweight. Soon I would become an obesity statistic.
I had to breathe deeply, center myself, stop myself from going shopping and address this with action. What was the active thing I liked the most? It was walking in the local park with the lake. That activity I would look forward to. I arranged my schedule to do that 3 times a week. So far so good. The day it rained I went shopping and worked off calories by taking the stairs at the mall instead of the escalator. 8 more pounds to go.
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