Wow Fatty!

I got on the scale at the Dr's office yesterday. That's all I'm saying about it.

Okay, not really, but it was bad, worse than I thought. I would like to say I fail to see how it's possible that I've gained 8 lbs since I had an entire body part removed or that it's the prosthetic that pads weight to the scale (and my shoes, socks, pants, shirt..) but in fairness I had long hair once and hair is heavy so I should be able to deduct that to balance some of it out...

the truth of the matter is I eat. Non stop.

I've always been envious of people who lose a ton of weight when under stress. I can't tell you how many friends I have who dropped 3 and 4 dress sizes amidst their divorces and I'd think "wow, one good marriage breakdown and I can be hot again!"  But that's not in my genetic (or mental) make up. I get stressed and rather than turning away from food, I turn to it.

The real problem is that when I'm happy, I also eat.

I like food, what can I say. And I'm a snacker. And I love my sweets. And I love chicken wings. And I love sweet chili rice crackers with cream cheese. And I love samosa. And the more I love all these things the more I indulge in them because I am bored, or feeling sorry for myself, or it's a Tuesday and now.....

well not the scale shows a horrific number and it frightens me.

I've been complaining about not being in shape, I need to take into account this fact too, that I'm slowly eating myself to death. I'm gaining a nice little patch of heart attack fat on my belly and I'm getting the Connolly ass.  (no offence to my beloved family but you all know the ass I mean)

Step One of my recovery from being a cancer patient, an ongoing process, is beating cancer. No brainer.

Step Two of my recovery, now underway, is regaining control of my life through being busy and organized and productive, (I made more muffins yesterday, did more laundry, got all the 'to be mailed' Christmas packages wrapped and addressed and got roughly half of my Christmas cards done.)

And starting today, Step Three of my recovery, control the insatiable appetite monster. I'm not going to diet, I don't believe in them, they are temporary fixes. But I'm going to control myself. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, in normal person, acceptable portions, not Andre the Giant  sized meals (wow, I think I just dated myself there) And if I want a snack, it will be something healthy, like fruit, or veg or a yogurt (not 3 yogurts) And I won't deny myself chocolate or treats because that leads to failure but having one Halloween mini bar after dinner is a better bet than sitting with the box at your knees. And later this week when I meet some friends for wings and beer, I will eat my wings and drink my beer but it will be once this week, not wings and beer this night and samosa this night and M&M Oriental Party Platter this night.

It starts today. I know I've said this before but let's face it, I've never had more reason to mean it before - I've never been more motivated to be strong and healthy than before. It's going to do me no good to beat cancer if I keel over from heart disease in 2 years and remember, heart disease and stroke are still the leading killers of women in Canada.

Imagine, maybe by next summer I'll be able to shop for a mastectomy bikini! (okay, that might be stretching it)