The hubby went on a health kick late last year and, while I thought it was a crazy phase that would quickly pass, he kept it up – working out, eating healthier, even taking his vitamins like a good boy.
Eventually I started to feel left out, and a little too much like Jack Sprat’s wife. And if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?
It’s been about six months since that time and, between the two of us, the hubby and I have lost about 90 pounds. According to the internet, that’s the average weight of a 12-year-old child.
Yes, we lost a 12-year-old child.
What seemed like an easy process for the hubby (but wasn’t) has been hard for me. The hubby is more stubborn and determined, and has that whole Y chromosome thing that helps him lose weight more quickly. But he also keeps reinforcing that we’re looking for a lifestyle change, not a quick fix.
The process – especially this year – has not been without its challenges. Two words: stress eating. I didn’t invent it, but I did perfect it. In this crazy world we’re living in, it’s tempting every day to drown my sorrows in Netflix and a cheesecake. Instead, I started working out to ease my stress.
Sustainable workouts are key for me. I’ve had to accept that I’ll never be a runner. (I like to joke that running is for criminals and showoffs. I say that purely out of jealousy.) But I love walking and biking, especially if I can read books on my Kindle or watch cooking videos while doing so. Then I start to look forward to those times instead of dreading them.
I also can’t deprive myself of my favorite foods. I eat way too much Cadbury chocolate, and last weekend I ate so much brisket that I could smell the hickory smoke oozing out of my pores when I hit the treadmill the next morning.
And I recognize – and try to avoid – my pitfalls. For example, I love a handful of chips with my lunchtime sandwich and veggies but I don’t buy my favorite chips that I can eat by the bag.
Also, our family has been eating so much chicken. We’re always looking for new healthy ways to prepare it, like these kabobs, which I love to served with rice, black beans and warm tortillas.
As the hubby likes to remind me, this whole process isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon. And while I’m not to the finish line yet, for the first time in a few decades, it’s in sight.
And I’m walking and biking there, not running.
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