Monthly Archives: April 2014

I’d Rather Be Me Than Him

I’m going to start seeing my counselor every other week. I think I’m ready for it and so does she. I feel I’m sort of at a turning point in my life and not just in terms of letting go of my husband.

She reminds me of how far I’ve come in six months and asked if I ever thought I’d be volunteering and losing weight, etc. And I said, “No. I couldn’t have imagined it.” She said another six months will bring additional changes, I just have to keep moving forward.

I told her today that I am re-examining my weight loss and exercise routine because I don’t want the rest of my weight loss to take forever and at the rate I was going it would take almost a year.

So I’m doubling down, but not looking at the whole 55 or so pounds. I am just working on getting to 199 within the next three weeks or so. That’s about two pounds a week, a fairly doable goal.

Way back when I was about 30 I gained a lot of weight and found myself at 190 pounds which mortified me. I quict drinking and started exercising, and left an abusive marriage (another one) and within nine months was a svelte 135 or so.

I can’t lose weight at that rate any longer, unfortunately. But if I can lose between 1-2 pounds per week for the next twenty pounds or so, I’ll be satisfied. By the time I get to 25-30 pounds to go, it’ll be harder and I’ll have to be happy with slower weight loss. But now, at 205? C’mon!

Getting below that 200 mark will be an incredible milestone. I can’t remember when I last weighed under 200. I don’t aspire to get down to 135, which is quite thin for me, but who knows? My goal has been 150ish but perhaps I can get it closer to 140. I have no idea.

I’m going to try to figure out what I can do to increase my metabolism, but I have a feeling the only means I have in that regard is to exercise more.

My husband’s court case has been scheduled in October so certainly I will not see any money from him before that. It gives me six months to keep thinking about what I might do but it’s hard when I have no idea what the amount will be. I’ll continue volunteering, exercising, working on my website.

If it’s a lower amount, my husband will want to pool our money and set up a business together, but I need to put him behind me and so I won’t be doing that.

Because of how we broke up, and how I wanted him back until I found out there was another woman, I never got to scream at him, or throw something, or display my anger, despair, grief, although once I got on my knees and he just backed away from me, cold as ice. He will probably never know how much he hurt me.

I just recalled how he had cruelly said that my ex husband gave me money to “pay me off” when I had worked just as hard and earned just as much as he had during our 18 year marriage and he was in total agreement that our assets be cut in half as they should be. But no, to my current husband, I was being “bought off.” He hit me below the belt like that all the time; a trait I’ll be happy to never experience again.

I want to get to a point where I can tell him not to contact me any longer. Contact with him always upsets me and sets me back. He’d love to be my pal or better still, my fuck-buddy. I don’t want that. I wouldn’t mind if someday he sees me with a worthy man and feels sad about how he used me.

When he told me his court case was in October I said, “Hopefully you can get by until then.” And he replied, ‘I’ll have to. Won’t I?”

He hasn’t paid rent since about October so by the time he gets his money a large chunk of it will go towards paying back rent. When I stop to think how he buys cigarettes, food, or pays for electricity, I assume he’s getting some from his parents, and probably some from his girlfriend.

How on earth does that make him feel to go from one woman to another to have your bills paid? Unbelievable. I still pay his cell phone bill party because I don’t want to upset him now and partly because I fear it will interfere in how his daughters are able to contact him. Maybe his girlfriend can take that bill off my hands; I wish she would.

I have realized I am ashamed of my relationship with him and knew underneath that I was doing so many things that were out of my comfort zone. I made so many mistakes that I finally got to the point where I figured I might as well spend the rest of what I had because I had already lost so much it just didn’t matter any more.

He doesn’t deserve me to treat him as well as I do now, but I do that for me, not for him.

Sometimes I think it’s hard to be me. It’s hard to be 56 and alone and broke and fat and scared. But it’s better than being him.



Being Fat is (mostly) a Choice We Make

I want to say some things that might be considered controversial or maybe even offensive about being fat.

I figure since I am still over 200 pounds I can say this. If average weight people say hard to hear stuff about us fat people, we jump all over them and accuse them of being bigots.

Being fat, for the vast majority of us, truly is a choice. Whether it’s a disease or not, I don’t know, but certainly it does cause diseases such as diabetes, heart disease, cancer, and much, much more. But, as hard as it is to hear, most of us are fat simply because we eat too much and we don’t move enough.

The main issue, though, is that we’re not really aware of it while it’s happening. Twenty pounds overweight easily becomes 40. Forty pounds easily becomes 80. And when we do acknowledge it and begin dieting, we lose a little, gain more, lose a little, gain more, until we’re bigger than ever. We then throw in the towel and resign ourselves to it as though it is our fate. The moment we do that, whether we’re aware of it or not, we begin to dislike ourselves. Our outer shells do not reflect who we are inside and a battle ensues.

When we wake up and realize we don’t want to be that way any longer, some of us are old. Past menopause. Media tell us it’s futile to try to lose weight. Most of the before and after photos are of people under 40. We are more invisible than ever. Fat and old.

And media seems to think we all want to be model thin or expect to look good in a bikini. So that rules out the vast majority of us. What about those people who just want to be fit and active and live a more fulfilling life?

I lost a good 15 years of my life by being fat. I spent many, many nights at the psych ward despising myself. I even lost the love of my life because I hated myself so much. But I never said out loud that being fat was a horrible nightmare to me. That I felt trapped in my body. There were times when I wanted to take a knife and cut off my enormous breasts and fat thighs but I never said to my shrink, “Hey, I think much of my problem is I’m stuck in this body and I hate being fat.”

I wish my psychiatrist, psychologist, or GP had addressed the possibility that part of the reason I was depressed was because I was obese, but people are so conditioned not to address obesity face to face, for fear of what? Offending us? Please, offend us! We are killing ourselves! Besides, they were prescribing me the weight gaining anti-depressants. SSRIs cause many of us to gain a lot of weight. I am now taking Wellbutrin, which is not an SSRI.

Why doctors don’t warn us about the weight gaining factor of anti-depressants is beyond me. If becoming fat isn’t a good reason to get depressed, I don’t know what is. If you’re fat and on a known weight gaining anti-depressant, consider switching to another type.

During the late Fall and all during the Winter months I dressed in the same pair of black stretchy pants and rain coat so that no one could see my ill-fitting clothes. Finally when I lost more than 40 lbs I had to begin to buy some things. Later I began to throw out my completely worn out fat clothes.

All of my new wardrobe has been purchased at Old Navy because it’s all I can afford. I enjoy looking at my closet and deciding what to wear. I’m beginning to wear color again. I wish everyone who has struggled with obesity can know what it feels like not to be limited to shopping in what I called “fat lady stores.”

In recent years I wasn’t able to participate in fashion because nothing looked good on me. I convinced myself that it was a shallow endeavor anyway and there were more important things for me to be interested in. Now I am having fun with clothes again. It’s enjoyable and it makes me feel younger and more feminine.

I see fat women (and I was/am one of them) who would spend their money where they could, on shoes, or purses, or fake nails, or highlighted hair, but you know what? None of those things look as good as being at a normal weight does. No purse, no amount of makeup can give that to you and if you think it can, you’re in denial.

As I creep towards a more normal weight I know it’s not just my attitude that’s changed. People are looking at me differently. I feel as though I am belonging again. I’m just a fairly normal person now (especially by U.S. standards), basically, not too far off from being average weight. I don’t stand out as “fat” any longer. It’s not the first way a person would describe me now.

When I go to the used bookstore in a big old building, I climb the two long flights of stairs and I’m not winded any more.

When I began to do laps in my local pool I could not do three laps in a row. Now I swim for an hour doing over 100 laps.

I feel physically powerful.

I have energy.

How could I have ever given all that up? How can I ever give it up again?

I’m a 56 year old woman and six months ago I was 62 pounds heavier. I still have about 50 pounds to go, but I’ll be honest, just losing 15 or 20 at the beginning made me feel much better.

I thought at my age I’d never be able to lose weight and I was wrong. I had a life changing event happen (husband cheated and left) and I woke up and vowed that I would change mentally and physically and I’ve worked really hard to do that.

At first I’m not sure what my motivation was. It may have been, “I’ll get him back” or it could have been “I’ll show him.” But eventually it became what I was doing for me. It’s been incredibly hard, and some days I feel as though I am failing, but I keep getting up and doing it and the proof is in the pudding, so to speak. The scale doesn’t lie.

My life is far from perfect. I’m losing weight much slower these days. Emotionally I have so much more work to do. But losing 62 pounds as helped me feel as though I’m back in the world of the living. I am a member of society again. Until you’ve felt like you didn’t belong anywhere, you can’t know how good that feels.

It feels good to take up less space and not bump into so much. To take the booth and not worry if my stomach will hit the table. To have so much room between my stomach and the steering wheel. To tie my coats around me. To hop out of a chair to do something. To feel powerful as I exit the pool after an hour of laps.

I was’t a particularly athletic person before I became fat but I did enjoy being active. But from now on I plan to have physical activity and exercise be at the core of my life. I’ll plan vacations around where I can walk, ride, or swim. I’ll someday have another man in my life who also wants to be active. I won’t give up my new lifestyle for anyone.

When I say most of us are fat simply because we eat too much, I’m aware that it’s not really simple at all.

I am an anxious person and I comfort myself with food. Many of us do. I have had to learn how to give up large quantities of food and not replace it with alcohol, or drugs, or sex. I have had to admit that the way I eat now is how I will always need to eat. If not, I will slowly or quickly gain it all back. My way of eating is not temporary therefore if there’s birthday cake, I will eat some, just not a lot.

I weigh myself every Sunday so that the weight does not creep back on. I dislike the scale immensely but I force myself onto it once a week. The scale is the truth.

I have had to find the way that would work for me and no one else. For me, being obsessed with food and recipes and calories, or being told what to eat would not work. As a middle aged woman who has dieted much of her life, I know a lot about weight loss, I just didn’t practice it.

I don’t deprive myself of much, I just really watch portion sizes. I limit breads. I rarely eat out. I’m not a big meat eater. The only fried food I eat is the occasional taco shell. I don’t eat ice cream or potato chips. I watch my juice consumption. And I began to like the feeling of being a bit hungry. When you begin to feel that that is your normal, then being overly full does not feel good. It really doesn’t.

But I would not dare to recommend my method to anyone. It’s what works for me and I will continue to fine tune it. My advice is to find out what works for you. To admit to yourself that being fat has affected you more than you realized. To consider that you have the power to change it. To understand that the real you is still there inside and wants to participate in life.

The last fifty pounds that I have to lose are coming off slowly. I’ve noticed that as my depression eases, my anxiety goes up, and anxiety is what I eat over. Lately when I feel the need to eat too much I try to ask myself, “What is it that you want?”

What I want is to be mobile, active, attractive, energetic, dignified, and someday, to be with a man who is the same. If I stop my weight loss and fitness journey now, I will give all that up. Now that I’ve decided that that is what I need and deserve and want, I have to strive for it even though I’m finding it difficult.

When I read about people who demand “fat acceptance” I have mixed feelings. We should not accept ourselves being fat: it is unhealthy, erodes our quality of life, and is a bad example to future generations. That does not mean, however, that fat people should be ridiculed or made fun of. Non fat people who harshly judge the obese need to understand that obesity is not just a matter of shutting one’s mouth.

Since I still have a significant amount of weight to lose some might find it ballsy of me to try to write something inspirational, but I don’t care. While this road is a hard one, the rewards are so great, that even while I’m not done yet and will probably never be done, I have to share the good news. It is possible for you to lose weight and regain your life. And it feels really good to do so.







Weighday and Not Much Else

Yesterday was one of those days where, in the past, I might have done something drastic. Yes, I felt suicidal and hopeless, but I didn’t even consider doing anything about it. I vowed six months ago when I started this blog that the days of considering suicide are behind me forever. That’s one area where there’s no compromise. That person can no longer exist. That person has already ruined enough lives.

So I just kept telling myself, “Well, you’re really depressed today” and I let it go at that. It was far from a pleasant feeling, but I lived with it. I also read a chapter of my ACT book, “The Happiness Trap” which helped a little.

I didn’t want to weigh today, but I did. To my surprise the scale read 204.7 so I’m calling it 205. One more pound lost. I decided that I will really buckle down to lose the six pounds it will take for me to be under 200, and then I ate some chocolate chips.

It’s raining today so I doubt I will exercise, plus I am doing some redesigning on my website and I’m totally engrossed in that.

I think it will help me to eventually be mad at my husband. I can’t afford that luxury now (at least outwardly) because I am praying he will share half of his settlement with me and I can’t afford to alienate him. But on the day that the money is safely in my account, I want to tell him I don’t want to be his friend, or fuck buddy, or safe person to flirt with.

He’ll never fathom how much he’s hurt me, and that’s really frustrating. But I can let him know that I cannot possibly respect, or hang out with, or do business with someone like him. Sadly I think it will come as a shock to him.

I imagine he might only value me if/when he sees me with another man. He’ll be very curious about that. He’ll want to know details. I won’t give him any.

It’s sad that he thinks I’m the sort of woman who’d advertise myself on Craigslist. Why doesn’t he know that there are some things I won’t stoop to!? When I asked him why he was looking at Craigslist personals in the first place he told me (as if it’s something to be proud of), that he was “craigslist stalking” me. I told him he will never, ever find me on Craigslist unless I’m selling a piece of furniture.

My parent’s dog is doing a bit better. As long as they keep her on pain meds she will eat. They’re feeding her only rice and chicken due to her pancreatitis. I am really hoping the diet change will get her on the mend.

My dad hardly slept last night. He got some new medicine that is delivered through a nebulizer. It loosened up a bunch of stuff in his chest, but he could not cough it up so he was awake most of the night. It’s amazing how he (and us) have adapted to things we never thought we could such as his oxygen, and most recently, a walker. He is at the mall with my mom now trying it out. He was told by his physical therapist that he could probably walk more if he used one. I think it’s important that that sort of advice come from someone else. I hate to see him this way. I can see that life is a bit of a struggle these days. But I appreciate that he is doing all he can to slow up his COPD.

Sundays aren’t quite as bad as Saturdays for me because I know Monday is only a day away and Sunday night is a good TV night. I will go to the pool in the a.m. and the kids center in the p.m. I see my therapist on Tuesday, so I can make it until then.

Sunday Stats
Starting weight: 267 (mid October 2013)
Today’s weight: 205
Total weight loss to date: 62 pounds
Height: 5’8″
Goal weight: about 150 (about 55 pounds to go)


The Weekend Blues

It’s almost amusing that two posts ago I spoke about having dignity in this breakup and mess that is my life and then the next post was the opposite of dignity.

I’m super sensitive to my mother’s loud voice and her constant talking. She’s worse than normal right now because one of her dogs is sick. I don’t blame her there. It’s awful when you can’t seem to help your dog get better. But I am having to use a lot of control because her volume and nonstop chatter are getting to me.

I’m depressed because for the millionth time I have realized that my husband doesn’t want me. I’m not sure how many more millions of times it will take to get it through my thick skull. This relationship is over. And in the end I’ll be better off for not being with him. I say that, but do I mean it? I don’t know.

My diet is crap. I’m not really eating meals, just snacking a lot. I’m sure the scale will show no weight loss this week. I need to really focus, even on just a short term goal: lose the seven pounds to finally be under 200 lbs. Just do that. One goal at a time.

I began that walk/run thing last Sunday and then had bad knee aches this week. I was able to swim on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, but I don’t plan to go to the pool on Saturdays any more; it’s always disappointing. So, if I will be swimming only three or four days a week, I need to add the walking at least two days a week.

As soon as my breakfast has digested I will go out today with the “ease into 5k” app and see how it goes. I feel I’m about to jump out of my skin and I wish I could walk for three hours, not 30 minutes.

I decided I will join this local group, The Obsidians, and walk with them and then I realized I still don’t have any hiking shoes. I plan to buy some in the beginning of May, and then no more excuses. I need nature and I need it badly.

Hopefully the contact with humans will do me good, but I’m not sure. I’m finding that I’m crabby, unsocial, too shy, too critical. In other words, I don’t like myself.

My ego simply can’t take the fact that my husband used up every penny I had, discarded me, and now wants to act like my friend. Neither my company nor my vagina is enough to make him want me back: I am that bad. If he doesn’t want me, who will?

This is a bad spiral. I’ve got to shake myself out of it. I’ve got to remind myself that just because I can think negative thoughts like that, doesn’t mean they’re true. In the end, I KNOW I’ll be grateful that I’ve managed to move on.

Life is very difficult with this Pied Piper of a man. He’s so dominating. If there is settlement money, I fear he will go right through his. Money just slips through his fingers. Perhaps that’s why he wants to start a business with me. He doesn’t want to run it or be there, he just wants to be part owner.

I can’t understand why I am only focussing on the things I liked about him and not all the many ways he was cruel to me and made my life unbearable. It’s made doubly hard because I have realized all the ways I could have been a better person and a better wife, but I realized it too late.

As I’ve said many times before, the only thing I can think of to do to get myself out of this state of mind is to work very, very hard. I generally do work extremely hard on my website, often over 12 hours a day. But that’s such a solitary thing with almost no interaction with anybody else. I’m so proud of it, but it does not get very many visits. Somehow I do have 550 Twitter followers for it, but they don’t really go to look at it.

I don’t know if the site has a future at all. I do it simply to be able to say to people, “This is what I do.” Because having not worked outside the house for almost ten years, I have to be able to show something. If/when the settlement money comes, I’ll probably drop it because I really do not know how to turn it into a money making business. Monetizing websites is a tricky, tricky thing. Plus I’m not assertive. I don’t sell myself.

I wish I could give myself a mental break, even just 24 hours of not thinking about my husband. It would be such a relief.

Sadly, I have a bad feeling about my parent’s dog. She had pancreatitis two years ago and they think it is back. She’s home from the ER but she’s not eating, and seems lethargic. If anything happens to her, my mother will literally fall apart. She has often told anyone who will listen that she wants to die before her dogs do. She’s an odd dog, a Bichon, but I like her very much. She’s got a unique personality and is only seven years old. I want her to get better.

My apologies. Today is just a complaint day. I guess I have those days more often than not. I pray my walk/run wears me out and that my attitude is better later on. Weekends are always a challenge because for some reason I’m acutely aware that I am alone.


I worked far too hard on my website today. It’s after 9 p.m. now and I finally go to the living room to watch some TV. I’m laughing my head off at a really old Saturday Night Live with Martin Short and Harry Shearer doing water ballet in the Olympics and then the TV does this shit where, because my mom’s watching TV in the other room and recording two shows, I can no longer watch it. I can’t even type or explain I’m so pissed. Fucking DISH fucking network.

My fucking neck is killing me. I’ve sat at this desk and this computer all day except for the hour I fucking swam.

I took an ativan. I’m too wound up.

Jesus, it was funny.

I’ve been crabby all day. Some stupid woman decided to come into my lane with her waist belt thing and her fucking noodle and twice she got in my fucking way. I looked at the lifeguard, like WTF man! She should not be in this pool. Tell her to fucking go to the deep pool or the shallow pool, but get out of my fucking way!

And it doesn’t help me at all that my husband called me this afternoon to chit chat and help me with a question I had on my website. Then we hung up because we’re oh so civil to one another.

It’s as though he got all he wanted. He wanted to get away from me without drama, and basically he did. Did he deserve that? Fucking no. He fucking ruined my life for the time I was with him and now that I’m apart from him.


And I can’t even fucking watch a half an hour of fucking tv to laugh and unwind?



My mom and dad are fighting badly.


One of my mom’s dogs is at the ER tonight. And I like these dogs and I don’t want anything to be wrong with her.

There’s so much fucking tension here you could cut it with a fucking knife.


Not Knowing Who She Is and That’s Okay (now)

I have ventured into the blogs of women who have been cheated on again and came away this morning having mixed feelings about not knowing who my husband cheated on me with, or if there is only one.

If I had become aware of the affair before I left him, we would have no doubt had a huge fight over it. And god only knows what sort of scene I would have caused, but it would have been HUGE. And if I knew who she was would I send her emails? Go find her to humiliate her? Contact her husband if there is one? I don’t know.

On one hand I’m glad that, by the time my husband admitted he was with another woman (he never has admitted that he was with her while we were together, but that much is obvious to me), we were separated a couple of months. I had been trying desperately to get him to let me move back and I had even gone so far as to ask that while we were dealing with this decision, he keep his dick in his pants. He said okay, but it was already too late. He wouldn’t even treat me like a human, let alone his wife, except he did take my calls and respond to my texts. I think he knew, given my fragile state and mental problems, that for him to completely ignore me would be the height of irresponsibility.

But our contact was so painful for me because he was utterly closed to me and my feelings and what we had together. As I said many times here on this blog, it was as though the man I knew died and this other man took his place. I actually mourned my husband.

So as I sat there in my car at his curb and asked him who was in the apartment and he began lying really badly, I finally said, “Admit it. Admit that there’s another woman and I’ll leave you alone, because that’s a deal breaker for me. Admit it”

And he said, “Okay. I admit it.”

And he’s not said much more about it in the months since.

I actually appreciate that when I say something a bit snide to him about “your girlfriend” he never takes the bait and always changes the subject. He has never spoken of her. I am grateful for that.

I looked at him that cold rainy winter evening and I realized I was in shock, but I also realized that I had been telling him I had changed in the last couple of months and so I felt that causing a scene would only convince him that I had not changed at all. Although showing feelings when your husband just told you there’s someone else in his life is a good reason to be upset, don’t get me wrong.

I drove home and I’m not sure how. It took two full days for the shock to wear off and the pain to come.

So I did not cause a scene and I have never asked him who she is and while I am curious, I know that it would not be good for me to know. I do not want to compare myself to anyone. Underneath my insecurities I know that I am a good person. I’m interesting and fairly attractive and that some decent man would consider me his catch.

Do I wish and hope that the other woman has some idea of the pain she has caused? Of course, but I blame him more than her.

Underneath my insecurities, shame, and pain, I decided back then to try to behave in as dignified a way as possible because that is who I want to be now. I have not been perfect, far from it, but it’s what I’ve striven for, to have dignity in the midst of this train wreck.

Looking back on the last six months I realize I should be proud of how I behaved, overall. I have not caused scenes. I have not contacted his family to shame him. I have stayed off the subject with his daughters. At the beginning I spied on him a bit, but soon realized I didn’t want to see him with her and didn’t want to catch him in the act of anything. But I did it to protect me, not him.

Don’t get me wrong. I would never judge the women I read about who confront the other woman. If circumstances of my husband’s affair were different, I probably would have done that too. I’m a bit envious that they are able to show their anger right to her face, but it seems to me that the other women never really get it. They just keep making excuses. So what’s the point?

For many months I wanted to know more details and now I’m so grateful I don’t have them. I still dread running into them at the mall and I think I probably will not handle that very well, but knowing me, my feet will turn me around and I’ll run before they even have a chance to figure out what to do. I suppose I can run to take an ativan but then I will now know what she looks like and know that he preferred her over me. The pain will probably start all over again.

That’s one of many reasons I don’t want to go into business with him as he would like. I can say to him that his girlfriends are never allowed to accompany him there, but how long would that last? He would like to have a very European separation with me, meaning when I see him I kiss him on both cheeks and we both still flirt with one another. I won’t do that. That just minimizes the pain he caused me.

He would like to have sex with me, and perhaps if he weren’t my estranged or ex husband I would have sex with him (If he were someone new in my life), but I will not give him that part of me — he already tossed it aside.

The women who are brave enough to express themselves to the other women are to be admired. For me, I’m made of weaker stuff and know my limitations.

Besides, I have changed and I am trying to behave in a way that the next person in my life will find admirable, which in turn causes me to have pride in myself. I think one reason my husband now flirts with me is that he is seeing this calmer, nonreactive woman in me.

I will never forget, however, the extreme pain he has caused me and I know that I deserve better. I still fear I will never love again or make love again, but I just have to brush those thoughts away and hope that when I am healed, I will do so.

I have a staff meeting at the kids center this morning. This evening I am going to the library to attend a “how to start your own non profit business” because it’s something I’ve always been curious about.

I’m not eating very wisely, night time being the hardest. The rain has returned so my ability to continue walking/running outside has been curtailed for the time being. But that’s okay. The rain will go away.

She Runs (but mostly walks)!

Yesterday at mid-morning I got dressed in workout clothing, put my iPhone in my pocket and went out to try the free “Ease into 5K” app. You can listen to music and the app interrupts you at intervals to tell you to walk or run or give you an update on how far you’ve gone.

The day one of week one program is 31 minutes long, and I believe that included the 5 minute warm up (but not the warm down). It starts you with ninety seconds of walking and then 60 minutes of running and repeat that for the entire outing. After the 2nd round of running for one minute I realized I needed to stop running. There was too much pain in my shins.

And that’s okay because I realized a lot of other things such as:

I have tons of strength and energy. I’m just not that used to weight bearing activities. So with that in mind I think it’s fine for me to first start with fast walking and then, in time, move on to running.

I did end it at the 31 minute mark, which they figured was about 1.7 something miles, and it probably was pretty close to that for me because I kept up a fast walking pace the whole time. Perhaps for now I should find out what walking apps there are. Also I’d like to buy a pedometer at some point.

On the last leg home I felt like skipping, jumping, and dancing through the streets. I mean, it was glorious. I was clapping my hands to the No Doubt music that was blaring through my headphones. I was whistling and singing! It was wonderful… “I kinda always knew I’d end up your ex-girlfriend.”

I’m not at all discouraged in fact I’m inspired and eager to do it again. And this neighborhood is perfectly suited to walking and running and doesn’t have very many cars.

I fluctuated between a fast race walk (my interpretation of it) and a normal fast walk. Either way I knew I was getting a workout.

It’s amazing, too, when I went to warm down I did a bit of stretching and because I stretch in the pool I have pretty good flexibility.

In the pool, when I first reached back to grab my foot and pull it towards my rear end to stretch, I could not reach it. I was too fat. Now, however, I can grab that foot easily and press it to my rump easily and I can touch my toes, etc.

All I can say is I am so glad I began my journey to fitness with the gentleness of the pool and I am very eager to see what I am in store for now.

I really hope with a modification in my diet, and adding this walking and perhaps running routine, that I will take off the remaining 50 or so pounds I want to lose.

I have a busy week this week, but the thing most on my mind is my husband and why he is suddenly calling me. It is impossible to “move on” when my mind is so mixed up.