Forty plus pounds have literally vanished from my lilt frame. My nicknames include Flaca and skinny minnie. I have shared my diet with women all over the country. My closet is still a work in progress and I throw away underwear on a daily basis because they are too big. This diet was not a choice that I made. It was a lifestyle that my body demanded. After years of eating whatever I wanted whenever I wanted without any regard for nutrition or portions, chronic symptoms made me uncomfortable on a daily basis. It took a former acupuncturist to sit me down and explain that my diet had to change without question or hesitation. It was cold turkey or face a lifetime of having a disgruntled body.
Wine, sugar, and starches vanished from my plates. At this point I feel as if a slice of cake would be a serious shock to my system because that amount of sugar is now foreign to me. Feb 17th began my exploration into a life of protein and veggies. The addition of a personal chef during the summer made life easier, but I still have a gut. My weight was not the only thing that changed.
The better part of my closet had to be replaced. My body was a size 10 while my mind still thought it was a size 14. People started giving me loads of attention. Chairs that were once comfortable became unbearable. Pine Sol can no longer be used in my home because the fumes are too much for me to handle; switched to an essential oil mix. My sound sensitivity increased to immediate annoyance. People overwhelm me with their constant talking and general noise. During conversations, I lose track of the discussion often. My eyes have loose skin and there are ripples on my sides. The boobs that made me famous now look like the site of deflated balloons. The black woman’s signature looks more like initials. My metabolism started sending me off into naps midday. Medication has now been prescribed because my body no longer produces a certain chemical that is required to fight off issues.
All of these changes contributed to a rocky year. New people became resources for new situations. A stylist helped me explore new styles. A new boutique fitted me with trendy wear. Friends have been swift to meet the demands of my strict diet while dining with me. The chef goes out of his way to provide me with meals that are delicious, varied, and based on what I need. I am hoping that 2018 will bring more stability to what has become a life filled with drastic changes.
In 2013, my mother traveled to Jamaica. She purchased a knitted swimsuit for me that was in the design of the Jamaican flag. Unfortunately, it was unable to fit. I comforted myself by saying I would give it to a smaller friend with a frame that could appreciate the suit. Fast forward to last Sunday morning. The sun rose, and I realized that I was beach bound. Since so much weight has dropped off me since February, I decided to try it on. Not only did it fit, but it looked good on me. It gave me such joy to wear it and enjoy the wind on so much of my skin.
These days bring me a lot of attention. Coworkers pull me to the side and ask me what I am doing. They want me to share the secret. Several people have begun dieting because of what they have seen with my body. Doors are simply held open for me wherever I go. It is a whole new world. Cooking has also become very important as I’ve picked up new tricks to keep myself well nourished.
When I cook my dinner, I pack my lunch before I eat. There are tupperware cases of salad laying around in case I do not have time to chop first thing in the morning. The microwave is only used at work, and water is everywhere. Water bottles travel back and forth to work and there are water jugs in my office if a refill is needed.
The types of comments that I receive these days is material for a comedy routine…..
1.) You need to retire those jeans immediately. They are hanging off you.
2.) Do you have an ass?
3.) Wine does not support your sexiness?
4.) Can you eat here?
5.) When do you cheat?
The rain has prevented me from my morning walk. It does not mean that I am going to skip exercising today. Perhaps I can walk later this afternoon before my evening adventure or maybe I shall bust a move right after my breakfast bowl of organic yogurt. My body is sore from the small amount of exercise that it has been exposed to which means that it is not good for me to stop now.
While consuming my green goddess salad at Panera last night, I explained to my mother’s sisterhood that the weight loss that has occurred due to my diet is amazing to me. A torture master was not employed to help me exercise and this has happened. It brought about the thought of combining actual exercise with my strict eating. My stomach now comes to the surface with one question, “Are you necessary? Do you really need to be here?” Maybe I can be the one on the next cover of Sports Illustrated.
I told my mother that ever since this has happened, I have been obsessed with how I look. My reflection is admired in the mirror every single morning by my eyes, and they like what they see; what say with clothes…..there is a glow on my face in pictures. This is all supported by what I consume. It is an old equation that has truly taken on a new meaning for me.
It is Saturday morning, and I have finished two laps around the park. My Keifer is currently keeping me company. My morning probiotics have been consumed. Lunch will consist of Meatloaf, Okra, and Quinoa. My beverage of choice is room temperature water with two tablespoons of Apple Cider Vinegar. After weighing myself last night, the scaled informed me that additional weight loss had occurred.
The drastic change in my diet was a requirement as of three weeks ago. I was placed on a very strict diet. Pounds have literally dropped off my frame overnight. Exercise hasn’t even been incorporated until this morning. Last night brought memories of pizza delivery. It would have been so easy for me instead of chopping veggies and checking the oven. A few motivational texts from friends reminded me to stay on course. There are another three weeks to go before my restrictions can be relaxed.
While others are dining on my birthday cake, I shall be splurging on a bowl of berries. That is the extent of the wild and crazy food that I get to consume for my upcoming renewal of my life cycle. I guess the surprising present is that with as smaller frame, my health has also improved.
There are many things that I believe in. Some of these things receive my unwavering loyalty and the strongest passion known to the human race. Facial hair is not one of them.
My gyn decided that the time had come for me to have a mammogram. Yes, she needed more information about the infamous boob. It was relatively easy to make an appointment. I had to email the prescription because I could not read it; however, this worked to my advantage because I forgot the hard copy when going to the appointment.
If you think that a medical professional has medical billers, that scenario is nothing compared to the department of a hospital. An entire fleet of offices were front and center to handle proper payment with regards to the different procedures. There was a handprint machine and a nice yellow bracelet in addition to the beeper. The waiting room in the radiology department was quite comfortable and not overcrowded. I was taken to the special room rather promptly and had a lovely conversation with my assigned tech. She was very apologetic whenever she had to place the boob in an uncomfortable position. There was a lot of pulling and placing. I never felt any pain or discomfort. It was strange to have a small glass table machine pressing against something that is normally covered; however, it was a decent experience. As I left the hospital, a smile crossed my face.
My boob inspection was complete.
When my gyn found the aliens that were occupying my uterus, she asked me if I wanted surgery. Unless it was required, I did not want it. After months of taking pain pills, it was time to consider something more direct to assist me. During the summer, a woman happened to tell me about Seanjari Preeti. It was not long before I schedule a yoni steam and began my journey with the pearls. No, they are not white. They are small sacks of herbs that are inserted and worn for a few days. Afterwards, all sorts of alien material can be anticipated. Nothing happened with the first round of pearls; however, the second round produced strange looking debris. That was inside of me?
During this time of detoxification, a tug of war seemed to be taking place with my ovaries. The left one is being held captive by the cysts & fibroids while the right one remains free. There were several left twinges, but the right also decided to get into the mix. This was new. Apparently, they were balancing out. Now that I have seen the power of the pearls, what happens next? There are at least three more rounds of pearls in my immediate future, and a yoni steam or two. It has been a rather interesting experience.
My ovary hurts every month. It makes me consider a surgery that I do not really want. The time finally came for me to go further than rubbing oil on myself; it stops the pain. The yoni pearls were a bit premature considering I once lost a tampon. However, the yoni steam was something that I have wanted to do for a while now. I opted for the full womb sauna experience. It was everything that I wanted; meditation, steam, cards, discussion.
It was not long before my bra became uncomfortable. It became customary for me to take it off halfway upon entering my home. It gradually progressed to me tugging at it during the day while at work. Now, I want gel caps so that I do not have to wear a bra at all. Bed time also began to call for au natural. These are major changes for a girl that has a separate attire dedicated to slumber. It suddenly crossed my mind that perhaps these changes were happening due to the womb sauna. My practitioner commented that perhaps I was getting more comfortable with my body. My major weight loss in 2009 really made me feel comfortable with myself. It inspired a modeling session. After sharing this with her, she suggested having my body painted. A smile crossed my face. It is something that I have been wanting to do for years and even thought about it for this coming Halloween. Look at how the universe responds to your true desires.
The sight of the tiny elevator sent me to the stairs. Into the office I wandered. Once I settled into the chair, the dentist came to talk to me. The numbing process began. Three shots later, it had not taken to his liking. The gums were given an extra dosage as a precaution, and he proceeded with care. The chair held me for what was at least an hour. My body shook without my consent. He continued to check on me as the nerves had gotten the best of me. I just wanted him to finish. Between the sight and sounds of the tools, the process was entirely too much for me. The comedy on the virtual television was an attempt at a proper distraction. I thought about my father. I thought about a new friend. The chair continued to hold me, and he continued to work.
Throughout the procedure, there were random spurts of sensations that should not be experienced by anyone. Apparently, the tissues in the tooth were extremely inflamed and there were four roots; the man had work to do. When the chair finally released me, thoughts of passing out from my first wisdom tooth resurfaced. I moved slowly to make certain that I was okay. There were directions for medication, and a follow up appointment in addition to the crown that the referring dentist would have to do. Yes, there is more torture.
The prescription was filled immediately, and I went home. Lunch is not an option, and the folding of clothes seemed reasonable enough. My mother was MIA….again. There was no one to share my experience with. The schedule shall pick up later this evening as a performance and poetry show will keep me busy. A friend shall join me to enjoy the animate prose. This is not an experience that I would wish upon anybody.
It is almost 2am, and it is not possible for me to relax. My body is aware that some movement took place this evening. Tuesday evenings have found me in the presence of a yoga teacher for the last couple of weeks. I have been so very proud of myself for doing something physical without any purpose other than moving my body. After my devastating pole termination, physical activity simply vanished from my life. Finally, I felt safe enough to try a studio with a yoga offering. The time was was good as well as the location of the studio. The instructor was very nice. However, this evening when I walked in, a new face greeted me. It was minutes later that I realized the new face was the new instructor. A huge smile crossed my face as my feet made a beeline for her spot on the floor. My voice was heard asking about her other locations for classes. My ears immediately detected an island lilt, and that began an hour of smiles.
She was attentive. She was understanding. She broke positions down and burned incense. Shells adorned her ankles and a scarf covered her head. Her aura was green, and her skin glowed from coconut oil no doubt…wait, perhaps that is my skin. Moving on. Apparently, she just moved to town and was only teaching at this studio for now. I do not know her name. I do not know how to contact her, and I wanted to give her my number in case she vanished. A growing predicament emerged on my cell phone, and it was necessary for me to vacate the premises.
Once my house accepted me once more, food was thrown on the stove in a hungry fit. As it cooked, my fingers shot the studio an email demanding more yoga classes with the fabulous new instructor because simply put, I loved her. I texted my yogini friend whom insisted on joining me for the next class to check out my radical find. A new mat is in order, and more yoga classes are wanted. Who is this individual that made me smile with her island charm? Perhaps I shall have a name next week.