Weighty Thoughts

I mentioned a week or so ago that the final stages of revising a dissertation for defense are not good for the waistline.  Perhaps that statement was a bit off and might require a bit more elaboration.  After participating in Academichic's Dress Your Best Week this past week, there's no doubt in my mind that there are a lot of things that I love about my body: my hour glass shape, my shoulders, my upper back, my eyes, my hair, my calves, my hands, my nose, etc.  I love my body, and I think I'm an attractive woman.  My love of my body extends to both its form and its function.  I appreciate how it ran and recovered from two half-marathons and a marathon in the past year.

However, there's no getting around the fact that I've gained almost ten pounds since I stopped running 25+ miles a week in October, and I had not lost any weight during the course of marathon-training.  The holidays, the stress of being on the job market and dissertating, and the hours spent teaching at two universities this year cut into the number of hours that I could run or hit the gym and into the number of hours I could spend in the kitchen preparing healthy meals.  In other words, circumstances and inertia have made for a number of less than healthy eating choices.  With the exceptions of when I've been ill, I've still run, gone to the gym, or done ashtanga yoga around four days a week, but that does not compensate for the boxes of crackers, bags of chips, and blocks of cheese I have consumed while sitting at my computer. 

I'm not into body bashing or beating myself up for eating a cookie.  I've never been one to think that I need to run an extra mile or spend an extra hour at the gym because I ate an extra piece of pizza at dinner.  I'm not fixated on numbers, and I actually don't even care that much that I've gained a bit of weight.  The problem is that I can't fit into most of my pants and a couple of my pencil skirts....  The first place that I always gain weight is my upper thighs, followed by my hips, followed by my ass, followed by my stomach, followed by my arms, followed by my face.  This means that most of my dresses and skirts and tops still fit just fine.  I just can't get my skinnies over my hips and buttoned, and my slacks strain across my thighs and hips in a way that makes me feel terribly self-conscious.

I can't afford all new pants and there has been a certain element of pride that has kept and still keeps me from hitting the thrift stores and coming home with some in a size or two larger than the ones currently hanging forlornly in my closet.  And, to be honest, I'm a little bit tired of wearing dresses all the time.  So that leaves me with a few choices: cut back on calories (which entails actually keeping track of calories), get some new pants, or continue to sulk about how I can't fit into my pants while doing nothing about it.

So I've decided to start keeping a food journal and now that the semester is over at one of the two institutions I have some more time to funnel into exercise and longer walks with Bailey (as well as more time to devote to revisions).  I'm not making any drastic changes, and I certainly don't expect overnight changes.  I am hopeful, though, that by the start of the fall semester I'll be able to fit back into my pants.

Why have I (perhaps over)shared all this with you, dear readers?  I've been ruminating on this post and writing it, deleting it, and rewriting it for a couple of days now.  Maybe I should have just deleted it and let it go, but some part of me needs to post this.  I need just a little bit of extra accountability and also I suppose I'm hoping for a little bit of support.