Chuck made an appointment for me to go in for my A1c today. I didn’t want to go. You know how it is when you’ve neglected your exercise and eaten too many off-plan foods. Not only had I been avoiding the scale, but I’m also not looking forward to the lab results coming back.
Haley, my nurse practitioner, looked over my labs from the past four or five years and saw no A1c numbers above 6.5. “You’re not a diabetic!” she said. “To be considered a diabetic, your A1c has to be above 6.5. Has it ever been that high?”
I told her I didn’t think so, but, now that I think about it, I can’t remember. I was first diagnosed about ten years ago, I think. I know that it was never above a seven, but my exact A1c at the time I was diagnosed escapes me now. I am old, you know: I can’t hang onto those stats forever. My husband has a mind for numbers. I do not.
As I suspected, I have gained a little weight over the last couple of months. Eleven pounds up from my last visit, to be exact. When I told my daughter she cheerily responded, “That’s better than twenty pounds . . .” After a pause she added, “. . . but worse than five pounds.” She’s a funny girl. Sometimes she’s a downright riot.
This is what comes from not doing my treadmill and–who am I kidding?–from eating too many off-plan foods. I can’t pretend it has only been because of my treadmill, but I will say that slacking off on my exercise is probably a big part of it. Chelsea reminded me that I was doing a lot more walking outside, too, before the weather turned. Physical and psychological changes, I’m sure, have both played a part in my weight gain.
Haley confesses that she has gained a little, too, but she is convinced that both she and I will get back on track very soon, now that the holidays are behind us. I hope she is right.
I had a fleeting wish before Christmas that I could just follow around a normal person all day for just one day and eat whatever they ate. I wanted to see what “normal” looked like.
That kind of thinking is not conducive to a healthy mindset. What am I, a freak of nature? No, I am not a freak of nature. I am normal. I am normal. I am normal. If I repeat it enough maybe it will eventually sink in.
One of my friends had this on her Facebook status today: “HAPPY NEW YEAR: It’s going to be the kind of year you decide to make it.”
That sentiment resonated with me. I appreciated it tremendously. (Thank you, Becky!) See, we can be the “normal” we want to be. We can say “I’m not really one to exercise much,” or we can become one who exercises! Exercising can be our new “normal.” In fact, we can be like Elf, and exercising can be our new “favorite”!
Over the course of the last year and a half I have discovered that I don’t need white potatoes, bread (and rolls and buns), rice, milk and bananas to live. I can get by just fine without any of those things. I have also discovered that once in a while a few french fries will not kill me. Interestingly enough, I don’t think they’re as good as they used to be. Are they really worth going off plan? The longer I’m on plan probably the more resounding my “no” will be.
The new year is knocking at my door, and I’m optimistic about it. I’m seeking my new normal, something I can latch onto and truly make my own, something tangible and not just the smoke and vapors that dreams are made of. It’s my hope that you find yours, too. Cheers to 2016 and all the possibilities and opportunities that lie ahead.
In the words from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella: I can be whatever I want to be.
“On the wing of my fancy I can fly anywhere, and the world will open its arms to me.”