I was noticing that it was Sept. 2 since I last posted. Sept. 2, 2011, is a day that will live on with me just as Feb. 20, 1989, will. Feb. 20, 1989, my mom called me screaming. Someone from the Air Force had just called to tell her that my sister was killed in a car wreck at approx. 1:30 am that morning. Sept. 2, 2011, my mom called to tell me that the doctor had just called to tell her that she had pancreatic cancer and it was inoperable. Since then, it seems that all I've heard about is how many people have been struck down at relatively young ages by this cruel and malicious disease.
So, I want to lose weight for me. No doubt. I want to get healthy because I've just been put on insulin. I want to feel sexy with my husband again. I want to feel good about myself when I look in the mirror. I want to be able to ride my horse without feeling quilty and without looking like a big blob trying to mount her.
But I also want to get healthy because that was one of the last wishes my mom had for me. She wanted me to overcome my eating addiction and prove that I was as tough as she was. Because my mom was tough. She had dealt with the pain of severe scoliosis for years. The doctors were amazed that she was able to walk. And walk she did. Three miles every day in about 45 minutes. She walked three miles every day during summer break (she was a school bus driver). She even managed two miles week before her first oncology appointment. Sept. 17, she had several small strokes that left her paralyzed on her left side. This was her worst nightmare. I guess to her, she could not understand how I could take my health for granted so easily. She was right.
Today, I made a new commitment to me. I am going to lose this weight. God is with me and if He is with me, then I cannot even stand against myself. And I have been my own worst enemy throughout all of this.
