I’ve been at this whole weight loss thing for 12 weeks now. Aside from one time about 8 years ago, I think that’s the longest I’ve attempted something like this. (8 years ago is also when I was at my “skinniest.”) I’m really proud of myself for continuing to stick with this, even though I don’t always see the results I want. I know that even if it takes me two years to lose this weight (and I really hope it doesn’t take that long), it will be worth it because I’m building a healthy future for myself, I’m creating a better version of me that will allow me to be a better wife and, someday, a better mom. I don’t want to be unable to really play with my kids because I get winded after 5 minutes of exercise; I want to have the energy to be fully involved in their games of make-believe, the chases around the backyard, the tickle sessions. And I want Stephen to be able to pick me up and twirl me around in his arms. I want to feel his arms squeezing me tight. Just today he said that he thought he could wrap his arms around me more than he used to be able to, and that made me feel good.
I went back to the doctor yesterday to find out the results of the MRI, and thankfully I have no major problem. I do have something that I can neither spell or pronounce as it’s scientifically designated but is basically “roughness under (or behind?) the kneecap.” (And I just looked it up: chondromalacia patellar. Say that 3 times fast!) Right now the only thing is for me to continue doing the exercises I’ve been given and take the anti-inflammatory meds until I go back for a follow up visit on May 8. The doctor says in most cases, this problem goes away on its own, but occasionally the kneecap has to be “filed down,” which doesn’t sound too appealing, so hears hoping for natural recovery! I’m supposed to continue avoiding anything that requires too much bending, and he told me to avoid stairs, which I found amusing, since we live in a townhouse. (When I told him this, he said, “Well, then make sure you don’t have to constantly run upstairs to retrieve things you’ve forgotten.” I do this all the time.) I’ve been limiting the amount of exercise I do on the elliptical to about 15-20 minutes because I don’t want to worsen the condition, and some days are easier than others in terms of pain. I look forward to being able to work out in full strength.
Now that I’ve kept up with this for a good amount of time, I feel more and more certain that this can be a lifestyle change. I keep visualizing myself as a “mini me,” a slimmer, healthier me, and I hope that one day the vision becomes the reflection I see in the mirror. Still, I have to keep looking to the Lord to give me strength, to help me press onward towards the goal, both in this effort and in my every day life. He IS my strength. The moment I lose my focus on Him, this whole attempt means nothing. I was reminded last week of a passage in Philippians 3, one that I used to meditate on often but had nearly forgotten until recently. Philippians 3:7-14: But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
I could lose those 100 pounds, but if Christ is not the center, then it’s all worthless. May I have His face ever before me.