My weight has been climbing. I thought I would get back down to 190 and stay there, but instead, I've gained weight. I know I want my body to be acceptable to my vision of myself--chunky, but not a overtly pear shape. To me, I look like Humpty Dumpty. I don't have big breasts; it all goes to my butt, or now, my belly. Waist? What waist? And what's that? That might be menopause, but it's too big. Of course, I want to eat whatever I choose, and at most, guestimate the calories. I'm forgetting that fat is building up in my carotid artery. (Like I'm gonna care about that. Don't we all live forever? Does our fat influence our health? Our bodies, my body, doesn't believe it.) Harry is a major undermining factor, he has yet to cut down. His office is candy and junk food central. And I eat it. I can't blame him really. He's not ready. His risks are greater than mine, but we're both blind. No wonder our health-conscious daughter has given up.
I believe my weight shot up after I started anti-depressants, but I'm certainly not willing to risk depression to lose weight. My acceptance is sitting there and could be tapped. I'm giving myself time and the use of the Sparkpeople tools. And I'm hoping.