NL-1 - Morbidly obese

Morbidly obese (MO) - yikes! That sounds... deadly. Something that could kill you. Something that describes someone else, never me.
But according to all standards, that's me as well.
What does morbidly obese mean?
I'm not going to define it, I'll describe it.
MO means feeling ... heavy. You're reluctant to move, and move the least possible. On Hell's Kitchen the MO chefs just don't hustle. They move sparingly. It looks like they don't care. That isn't true but that's what it looks like. That doesn't mean that you are handicapped, just that you are predisposed to inaction. Chores don't get done as often as a more energetic person would like. You get neighborhood kids to mow your lawn and do the weeding and paint the house. Yes, you make it sound like you're supporting the local economy, but you really don't have the energy or want do deal with the aches afterwards if you do it yourself.
You do laundry as little as you can get away with. When grocery shopping, you only go down the aisles you need to. You look for the best parking space. Books and the Internet are more interesting than walks and activities. Your hobbies become computer-based hobbies, like... writing a blog. Facebook. Computer-based games. Editing photographs. You know you have a problem when you spend more time at a computer editing photographs than you spend taking them. You start carrying your cell phone in the house because you're too lazy to pick up the phone in another room. Over time you don't even notice how lazy you've gotten.
MO means

• ditching watches because you can't buy one to fit your wrist (use that cell phone for time!)
  
• looking for tables with chairs in restaurants instead of booths
• worrying that seat belts in cars and planes might not go around you.
• stop looking in mirrors (a challenge in public restrooms)
  
• start focusing on isolated things (hair, earrings, rings, shoes) rather than the entire body
• avoiding clothes shopping just in case you don't fit the largest size in the store
• buying clothes over the Internet 'coz they carry your size
• start hating body parts - flabby arms, heavy legs, swollen ankles
• wear outsize clothing because the clothes that *fit* are now all stretched out of shape
• packing heavy when traveling because you couldn't buy something if you forgot it
• watch the shopping channels on TV because those companies carry large-size rings and necklaces with extenders
• always being hot, using a fan or AC year-round
• wearing sandals and shorts in winter and calling it eccentric
• having a long list of auto-record programs on your Tivo
• taking kids to the amusements and sitting on the bench because you couldn't get the harness on.
  

... and of course there are all the eating issues which I am just too lazy/tired/disgusted to get into.

The crazy thing is that you don't feel ugly or unattractive; you are still as interesting and interested in the world as you've ever been. Your *character* hasn't changed , just the vessel that carries it. So you feel normal, with adjustments or accommodations made with the passing of time. You might blame the changes on creeping age or stress or insufficient sleep or money troubles.

Somehow, something calls out to you to stop and take stock. It can be anything.
Something has to change. The time is now.

... to be continued.

NL-2 Two days before a new life

This blog is about my new life, one that starts in two days.
New life, you say? How so?
Let's go back a bit. I never expected to have a new life. I've lived an outwardly uneventful life so far - wonderful childhood, the best family anyone could ever have (no one would believe me if I put it in a book), a career in a field that suits me. Any bumps in the road have shaken me up a bit just enough to make those years memorable. Nothing exciting - I've had no traumatic illnesses (TG!), nor any Olympic medals, nor any earthshattering romances. Didn't even win the lottery, unless you count my family - I've won the lottery quite a bit through them. Slow and steady.
On the slow and steady path things creep up on you. In my case, weight. As a child I was skinny as all five-year-olds are. Then I discovered books. But with books came bicycles, as you needed a bike to get to the various libraries within biking distance of home, so things balanced out. However, in those pre-Title 9 days, there were no sports programs for girls, even if I were genetically predisposed that way. So I slipped into a sedentary lifestyle - piano lessons (sitting), buses, trains and subways instead of bikes for libraries, cars and buses instead of walking to school (high school). Skipping forward to the college years, my new interest in folk dancing didn't compensate for the sedentary bookish life. Diets started coming into my life in high school and were part of my college life, more as something to worry about than to follow.
I was fortunate to enter into the computer field in its infancy. It was and still is fascinating - there was the challenge in using pure logic to make things happen. You go to work and people people gave you puzzles to play with all day, every day. Not literal puzzles but figurative ones. They'd ask me to help them to accomplish something. I'd see it as a challenge - what is the most efficient way, using computers, to get this done? Efficiency was everywhere. What is the most efficient use of my time? Do things just-in-time. Arrive at events without wasting any time (i.e. never arrive early, arrive when things start to happen). Work to the deadline. Don't waste any effort.
Yet, this was balanced by the interest to be 'in the moment' - reading a book, riding a bike to explore something, figuring out a new interest. I guess I thought I had enough exercise to balance my sedentary work life, but, unnoticed, my life was tipping toward the sedentary side. I gave up dance classes for singing in a symphony chorus (what do you have when you combine 150 people and a lot of heavy breathing - a chorus!). I gave up exercise to get a graduate degree at night. I traded ice-skating lessons and weight-training for a mortgage. Then the biggie - I bought into a 45-mile commute (one way) for a paycheck. The transformation was now complete - sitting in a car for two hours a day, sitting at a desk for another eight. The only saving graces were my hobbies - photography (trading my computer-geek credentials for photo-geek ones), travel (when I could afford it) and golf (yes, I kept banging my head against that particular wall) more as a family activity than an actual sport.

Which brings me back to today. This life. Me as morbidly obese.
I know how I got here and I know where it is taking me. A place I don't want to go - I've seen someone die a slow death from the complications of obesity. I have to change and it has to happen now.
A new life. It starts in two days. Come along with me on this journey.