Ok, I have to admit something. I don't blog everyday cause when I sit at the computer, I usually do online banking first. Check in with the ole bank account, just to see how my budget is going. Lately the checking in part has been so depressing I don't feel like writing in a journal. But, I need to get over that. It's a weight loss journal. And I honestly believe having no money has encouraged me to lose weight. The dollar menu at Wendy's is great. A whole baked potato with small chili and water is $2.14 and a great meal for someone who is low on funds, on the go, not wanting to eat fried food. If God works in mysterious ways maybe this is one of them?
So, I'm writing before I look at my bank account. Happy to report I was down a couple of more ounces this morning. I did not exercise yesterday. Parties for the upcoming nuptials are taking up some exercise time. And I miss the gym. The optimal day is three lovely hours to spend there. One hour on the elliptical, one hour in pool and sauna and one hour to shower and do make up and hair. Seven days a week. I wrote once that losing weight is like taking on a part time job. So this job would be 14 hours a week. It would be so much easier if I could get my fat butt and menopot out of bed at 5:30 am and just go. It would be a mini miracle if I could ever get into that routine.
A bright spot to report is I wore a belt that was a present from my husband last Christmas. My daughter reminded my when I unwrapped it last year she and I both looked at it then looked at my husband ( who by the way was clueless.) The belt did not even fit my daughter who was four sizes smaller than me at the time. It was one of those awkward moments. The "how in the world did you think I could fit into that?" moment. Which, once again, proves my point. My husband stopped looking at me after baby weight came along. I'm not saying this fact is bad. It's probably one of the reasons we stayed married. He became very happy with the lights off and he has a great imagination. SO, I wore the belt around my waist and not hips. It was not uncomfortable. I'm thinking it is the elliptical. I'm not too sure how that machine works on the waist though.
And, in the car today, my daughter wants me to start writing down stories from my childhood and life so they won't be forgotten. Since this is my journal, I'm going to start adding them at the end of each weight and exercise portion. Who knows, it may offer some insight into weight gain or habitual eating.
Humph.................................................................It's almost like forcing someone to look at slides of family vacations. I'll start with the motel stories. Besides, I remember these the best and they still make me laugh. Owning an interstate motel was a dream of my father's. He wanted to have a business with "non-depletable inventory." After my father passed away I can't say I ever wondered what he would say about any given situation. His voice seems to ring through my head. My relationship with my father is probably one of the reasons for the weight gain. But, I need to make one thing very clear. He was never mean or cruel in any way to me. In fact, he loved me very much. I have no doubt. Working beside him was hard. My daughter ask me why I was not a millionaire like my father was. I could never work as hard as he did. And he could never truly understand why other people did not want to work as hard. When he died, I will admit to being relieved. I felt like I could breathe for the first time ever. It is still odd to me that I feel that way. He died with his running shoes on....literally. On a treadmill. He ran four to five miles each day on a treadmill. He had his first heart attack at 55, starting running and never quit till the age of 69 when he had his second heart attack that killed him. My family knows he would have never stopped any other way. So to say, "he stopped dead in his tracks," makes me smile simply because he was a force of mental energy. God knew this was the only way to get him to relax. We owned a motel for about 20 years. It was the Texas version of the BBC series "Faulty Towers." Adjacent to the motel was a restaurant and on the other side a little store. We owned both of those also. The store we leased out, but the 300-seat restaurant we ran seven days a week. Dad lived full time at the motel in an apartment, so he could manage it 24/7. Mom lived in a brick ranch style house just across a pasture and a pond behind the motel. My two sisters and I worked alongside our parents for most of our lives. In Dad's previous restaurants in the 70's when we were teenagers and his retirement business when we were all married with children. One of the things that amazed me most was the perception by the public that things done at an interstate motel were somehow private. To this day I am very conscious of what I put in the trash at any motel/hotel.
Sincerely,
I'm Not Oprah
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