You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March 2017.

Living in the 907 was a catalyst for much change in my life. Most of the changes have been good; some were great. However, there is one thing I picked up that I would rather drop: extra pounds.

I wasn’t skinny before I made the journey north.  My struggle with weight pre-dated my time in Alaska.  Six years of cold, dark winters, a deployment, and one more pregnancy compounded the matter.  Long ago, I had picked a number that as long as I had not reached  I was still okay. While in the Lower 48, I was still some distance from that number.

I cannot be sure just when I went over. While Chase was deployed,  I had stopped weighing myself in fear that I had finally reached my limit.  I decided I was not responsible for what I wasn’t aware of.  In recovery we call that denial.  Before recovery I was Cleopatra, queen of denial. (Sorry, I can never resist the chance to use that joke.)  I was already exercising by the time I had begun to see the error of my ways, so when I finally hit the scales I was back under that number.  The first time I saw that number on a scale, I was 30 weeks pregnant; therefore, I gave myself a pass.  I found myself slowly gaining pounds after Rory’s birth, and was trying to be proactive about not reaching it.  Unfortunately, some old injuries resurrected themselves in my zeal to exercise the weight off.  Last summer the scales tipped beyond that number again.

Ages ago, when I created the threshold, I also had a plan-a trip to GNC to buy whatever weight loss remedy was hot.  I knew this wasn’t the most healthful plan, but I figured the extra weight was also not healthful.  It just so happened though that at that same time Alaska gave me an excellent solution for my weight issue.

PS 907 is the Alaska area code, not my current weight 😉

Advertisements