The truth is that I am morbidly obese. My BMI is off the charts. My blood pressure - amazingly - is normal, the last time I checked. Which wasn't recently because I hate going to doctors and hearing them say: "You know, this [cold] [sore back] [carpal tunnel] would be vastly improved if only you lost weight.". As if losing weight cures all health woes.
I have trouble walking any distance, most days. And by "any distance", I mean "1/2 a block". I'm so physically compromised I calculate my life in increments of what my body will tolerate. I can walk to my office 3 blocks away, if I can stop and stretch out my back after a couple of blocks. I can go to this movie theatre, but not that one, because there the seats are too narrow for me to comfortably sit for any length of time. I take cabs to the courthouse because if I walk, I arrive panting and gasping for breath, and my face is so bright pink that people look at me funny. That, or it's my wheezing that's making them glance over.
I used to love travel, but now dread it. Sure, security since 9-11 is a pain, but it's been years since I comfortably fit in an airplane seat, and I just can't stand the humiliation.
It wasn't always like this. 10 years ago I was a fit and healthy 165 pound size 12/14, 5'9" woman. I could go for long walks without my back seizing up. I didn't get exhausted just getting dressed. I had muscle definition, for gosh sakes. Today...well, let's call me a super-heavyweight trying to cut down to welterweight. I am Butterbean.
This blog will chronicle my efforts at returning to personal fitness, one agonizing step at a time.
Image: Michelle Meiklejohn / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
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