I just baked a batch of blueberry-almond scones--the smell has been pervading and permeating the house--I could eat them all--all eight of them--right now (burning my mouth in the process--they're just out of the oven), but I will ... restrain myself.
(I hope.)
I've been trying to keep my waistline under control since this lockdown commenced. The Dyer men apparently share a gene (I should say GENE) that allows fat to accumulate with impressive speed in very visible places.
My dad and his ten brothers (or so--I lost count) all had, uh, weight problems. My brothers and I also do battle, more or less.
Since my marriage in 1969, my own weight has fluctuated from nearly 200 to 150 lbs. My waist size on my jeans has been as high as 36, as low as 30. Right now I'm 33 and holding pretty well. Oh, and unlike the pic above, I don't weigh myself anymore; instead, I go by the hole in the belt I'm using. It's in a good place right now. No movement since mid-March when we started staying at home.
The weight goes on so easily, comes off only with great difficulty--especially these days: I'm on an anti-cancer med (Trelstar) that has a number of odious side effects--one of which is the shocking ease with which I can add pounds. As if I needed more of that!
Since we're pretty much housebound now (both of us are in vulnerable categories, so we are taking no chances--especially when so many out there are ignoring safety protocols), and that means less exercise.
I used to go to the local health club 5-6 times/week, each time burning about 500 calories (exercise bike, walking laps, rowing machine, hand weights), but I somehow lost my stability--my balance--and am not safe doing such things any longer (I fell out there a few times). I also used to walk back and forth to Open Door Coffee Company twice a day--a total of about a mile (with a heavy backpack). But I haven't been there in a couple of months--though I am eagerly anticipating the day when I feel it's safe for me to do so.
So ... Joyce and I were walking about a mile a day--but we encountered too many careless people while doing so. Now, we both ride the Airdyne exercise bike we've had in the house for a number of years. I ride only ten minutes (I don't want to break a full sweat--have to change clothes, shower, etc.) and burn about 110 calories in the process. Not a lot. But better than nothing.
Joyce has no problem with weight--and never has. I've envied (but never resented) that. Each of us has genetic gifts--and curses. Right?
I am eating very little these days. Here's a very typical day (I am nothing if not a Creature of Habit):
BREAKFAST: a cup of black coffee, a homemade scone (nonfat, no cholesterol).
LUNCH: a piece of toasted sourdough bread--light swab of organic jam; a cup of lowfat yogurt with some fresh blueberries and strawberries mixed in; 8 oz of pomegranate juice (a cancer-fighter)
SUPPER: some modest amount of protein (fish, chicken, or sliced turkey); a veggie; some potato/rice/pasta (no butter or sour cream or other Evils on top); a piece of sourdough bread (plain)
And that's it.
Well ... almost. Joyce and I also have a sugar-free Popsicle as we're streaming some shows before Lights Out--30 calories, total, for me. (Except when I eat another stick--then it's 45.)
So far ... I'm Holding the Fort--and the Fort has not grown. Though it very much wants to! I would love to dive into a jar of crunchy peanut butter, bake something gorgeous and sugary and buttery, eat a half-pint of ice cream, bake and eat a Pie of Fat, etc.
But I don't dare ...
And I'm definitely avoiding those scones now cooling in the kitchen.
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