In a Nutshell

I cannot remember any time in my history when I have had a healthy relationship with food or exercise. Exercise was just something that "had" to be done (thus, it was no fun at all), and food was something that I either had control over or it had control over me.

I know there are people out there who can relate... Ever gone on a diet and taken off some pounds, only to put them right back on again (plus maybe a few extra)? Do that a few times, then decide - "I WILL conquer this... I will NOT put weight back on again!" Of course, for someone like me - mildly anal, slightly obsessive, and just a tad nutty - this meant going to what might be thought of as an extreme. Don't eat breakfast... that only means I've used up a good portion of the day's calories already... then what to do about the rest of the day?? Log every tiny piece of food that goes into my mouth. Count those calories and make sure I don't go over a particular amount (and, believe me, I can be very good at sticking to that).

This led to a bit of starvation on my part. For quite some time, the calories I was allotting to myself were considerably less than they should have been. And even at that, I wanted to eat some things that I considered enjoyable. So I would not "waste" my precious calories on silly things like fruit -- not when there was the promise of cheesecake if I abstained.

During the summer of 2011, a major change happened to me. I actually began to enjoy my exercise. And I mean, I really enjoyed it. I looked forward to it. And if I missed, I felt let down instead of guilty. Exercise actually became my friend. It was a long, hard road to get there, I'll be honest. But a shift really did occur, and I have enjoyed exercise ever since then.

This actually led to another problem, although I didn't see it as one at the time. All that exercise definitely changed my metabolism. I was running every day, and I could tell that my legs were less wobbly and beginning to look a little more like they could hold me up. Running rocks. I love it. But I realized I could eat considerably more and maintain my weight -- so around the holidays I really enjoyed quite a bit of... indulgence. I didn't gain weight, I still had people telling me I was "too skinny," which I loved, and I was eating my same old way -- watching the calories, making sure I worked everything off, and making sure I didn't "waste" my calories on things I didn't think I enjoyed.

So... you know what this led to? Yep... my legs continued to gain in muscle (truly we are an amazing creation... that my body managed to scrape what it needed to put muscle on my legs from the few nutrients I was feeding it), but my upper body became scrawny. I'll confess that initially I kind of liked it. I enjoyed so much feeling like I was getting thinner. Thinner was better. THEN -- I came across the story of a girl who had a story much like mine. But she had taken a new leap in a totally different direction. And she looked... AMAZING. She started weight lifting.

I've always been opposed to lifting weights. I mean, really... who wants to look like those freak chicks on the muscle mags? NOT ME. If I look like I can take down my husband, I don't view that as a good thing. I realize there are some women out there who do, and I respect their right to their own viewpoint. Me, though... not so much. But I figured out that lifting weights doesn't really change my body to that degree. I'll admit -- I'm not into the olympic power lifting. I've seen what those women can do, and I don't know very many men who would want to make them mad. But that's not what I'm after. (Pause for a moment to reflect... would I want men to be afraid to make me mad.... Hmmmm... okay, no. Not really.)

What I did decide, though, is that I don't want to be my thinnest, weakest self. I want to be my strongest, healthiest self. That looked so much different from what I was doing!

I'm not the buffest babe. And I'm not "totally fit," (and what in heaven's name IS that, anyway?). But I am now constantly in process to become the strongest, healthiest me that I can be.

My relationship with food (yes, seriously -- it's that bad -- we're "in a relationship") is much more healthy now. I guess you could say that I'm no longer in an abusive relationship, where either I'm abusing it or it's abusing me. I've been turned on to a more "paleolithic" way of eating, which is NOT a diet. And I still count my calories, but more to make sure that I get enough of them than anything else. I do, after all, want to make some muscle here.

So here I am, a woman in my 40s... having had a total epiphany about food, diet, exercise, weights, cardio, and LIFE. I want to live life -- to the full. I want it in spades. How in the world am I going to do that if I'm at my thinnest, my weakest self? Don't get me wrong... I am NOT about raising my body fat percentage. I'm currently running at about 20% and I think that's pretty fine. I AM about gaining muscle. Being strong. Being capable. Being the best me that I can be.