What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, which makes most women the powerhouses they are. It’s been such a disastrous week, but I was able to hold on to what was important, what I could do something about, and Jenny’s like the maidens of St. Trinians:
“Maidens of St Trinian’s, gird your armour on.
Grab the nearest weapon; never mind which one.
The battle’s to the strongest; might is always right.
Trample on the weakest; glory in their plight”
Even if we didn’t actually go to that cross between an English girls’ school and a reformatory, we have the fighting spirit. And most of us, though more honorable than some of our male counterparts, are willing to fight dirty in defense of our lives and those we love.
My health situation isn’t as bad. Constant pain, and I suppose I could have something inside hidden away that’s out to get me, but basically I’m doing better than Jenny. In fact, when we were first talking about setting this up I told her I was afraid of dying, and mentioned all my danger areas (the huge weight, the brush with ovarian cancer, the high blood pressure) and she countered and raised me a stage three colon cancer, her weight and her blood disease, and I said “okay, you win, you die sooner.” We decided this was not a healthy competition.
In the end, we’re fighting for our lives, and we take no prisoners. Kale? Bring it on. I spit on Kale. (Well, that probably won’t help).
There’s nothing worse than feeling powerless. When we can fight back it makes all the difference. Knowledge is a huge weapon, anger is as well. The “I’m not going to let this get me” kind of anger can be wonderfully effective. Jenny might tell you sometime about what she did to get rid of her cancer, and it wasn’t imagining fluffy clouds and peaceful pastures. Anger’s her friend.
I was feeling overwhelmed by weight and feeling frozen, and hurting. What I decided was two-fold. I remembered how journalling had helped, and then thought a public one would keep me honest, bring in partners in the battle, and Jenny, thank God, said “shit yes” and we were off. The other thing I did was come up with my own food plan.
I’ve lost tons of weight on WW (usually the best), Atkins, Protein Power, South Beach, Scarsdale, OA (which isn’t a diet and everything I learned from that stays with me), and probably everything else one can think of. After fifty some years of thinking I was fat, whether I weighed 129 or 280, I know about nutrition, plus, my husband had a heart attack and has since kept off more than 50 pounds.
So I decided to make my own, obvious plan.
Breakfast is something grainy with protein. I’ve added a few almonds — great idea from someone here.
So far lunch tends to be a Lean Cuisine because I can grab it.
Dinner is whatever inspires me.
No fried foods. No sugar. No white stuff (though there are a couple of recipes that call for white rice that I don’t know how to convert). No fast food. Gone from 8 plus Diet Cokes to a single one in the morning, and I find that I don’t crave other stuff as much without it.
And no seconds, ever. Not even at the Thai restaurant a couple of nights ago when it’s served family style and of course you have more.
Richie handed me a ten pound weight to see what I’d lost, and I was astonished. 10 pounds always seems like nothing, but holding that impressed me. Imagine when I’m down fifty? I’ll be skipping.
Jenny and I will still be fighting battles as we trundle along in our lame-leading-the-blind old lady processional, and we’ll need spiffy new armor for the battle. But we’ll be in the battle together, with all the rest of you maidens of St. Trinians.