now I'm a believer Tweet

At 14, I was 45 kg and I thought of les—the impact of first love rejections. At 18, I was 48 kg and I felt hot—the power of teenage accomplished loves! At 22 I managed to keep around 52 kg and felt very excited that I could still get into a pair of jeans belonging to the 18 y.o. me. At 26, I briefly went under 52 kg due to a depressing diet. At 28, I got to think that 56 kg and my height provided for a normal BMI.

I'm 30 and I've spent the last couple of years in toxic environments of junk food, odd eating hours, and high levels of stress, topped—naturally!—by reasonably high levels of alcohol. I've also spent the last months in bed—due to my foot injury—and on a chair in front of the screen—a recurring pattern ever since 14. I walk when I've got time, yet it doesn't count as cardio unless it's fast and longer than half an hour. My foot is not entirely reliable—thus, I cannot walk more or consider gym and the likes. I'm 66 kg and I'm faced with the first New Year's resolution that stayed with me in ages: healthy eating and living habits.

This year I know why bother. I miss wearing more than half of my wardrobe—survivor of more slim times—more than I miss my one-two glass(es) of dry red wine an evening, although even not drinking must be done in moderation in order to keep one fit for the practice. I miss climbing the stairs without losing breath more than I miss sharing a tiny elevator with large skunks—read neighbours. I miss running and rollerblading, the freedom each gives you. I miss not owning a scale. I miss cooking. And, God, would my ego feel elevated to get into that pair of jeans again!

Speaking of old habits. In January I was challenged twice by my love: to climb the stairs to my flat each time—mainly accomplished, feels great—and to stop pouring two-three sachets of sugar in my coffee when in public venues—I use honey at home. Well, the latter is harder to get rid of, for three good reasons: a. have done it for long years, so it comes automatically b. I don't like bitter foods and drinks c. I rarely eat sweets, so plenty of sugar in my coffee occasionally seemed OK. I'm working it, though. And I'm awaiting my February challenge, still.

Update, February 16th 2007: I've received three new challenges. To eat breakfast every day (even if only some muesli with a touch of milk), as well as a fruit (I hope that fresh juice counts!), and to keep a food diary. Easy said, easy done.

Update, March 10th 2007: and the challenges keep coming, why the scale refuses to move. The honey that replaced the sugar in my life will be replaced itself by sweetener. The two days without alcohol/ week—have I mentioned it?—will have to become three. The meals will arrive every four hours: imagine 9 a.m., 13 p.m., 17 p.m., and 21 p.m. A few things that are bad are staying, though: alcohol, here and there, smoking (of course!), and mangoes, even if packed with sugar. How can I give up the occasional mango?

Update, April 10th 2007: the food diary has died recently, as it consumes too much time and the conclusion was obvious—I'm eating very healthy most of the time, i.e. when I make the effort. New challenges in place: seeing two doctors to confirm that I'm healthy otherwise and that I can exercise without worrying about my foot ending up plastered again.

I live a very happy life, yet does the pursuit of happiness ever end? Greeting card found here.