My stats for my first official walk (ie, the second mile, the first being practise) was 20:23, with a heart rate of 145. Yesterday, for the final mile (mile 19 I might add) my time was 17:55 and my heart rate was 177. Plus I weighed in at 7 pounds less. That's 7 pounds in 6 weeks. Woo hoo me!
After that, I went to the doctor.
We had a very good talk. A talk that involved me broaching my eating disorder and my warped thinking for the first time ever. I didn't come out and say I'm a puker. Couldn't do that. I did talk to him about what happened last time. How food became the enemy and how by the end the voice in my head told me if I didn't do 2 hours at the gym, I was a worthless piece of crap.
Yeah. I told him all that.
I told him how I got down to 189 pounds and my mother told me I'd never lose all the fat. He grimaced and shook his head.
He looked at my weight since I've been seeing him (down over 50 lbs. thank you very much) and how I've been progressing with Weight Watchers. He asked about the walking study and I told him the results.
In summary, what he told me was that I am losing weight at a wonderful and safe rate right now. He said that the numbers the walking study gave me are more than enough proof to show walking is enough exercise and I don't have to kill myself for results. He said my heart and lungs sound better than ever. If that all wasn't enough he looked me in the eyes and said "K, you've dropped your blood pressure down 14 points in 3 weeks. That is so wonderful!" He set my 50 lbs. gone goal as August. He set my goal weight between 158 and 140, with 148 being ideal. We both agreed that hitting that by the time I am 40 would be a realistic, safe, and long term goal.
He upped my prozac and my synthroid. Not much, just a smidge. He pointed out that I am taking care of myself even when I don't always see it. He finished by telling me he was proud of what I've accomplished and that I am doing a good job of working on my health. He ended our appointment with a hearty grin, a few healthy pats on the back, and a strong handshake at which time he said "really K, good job."
I got out to the car and cried. I have proof now that I can take care of myself. I have proof that I can be healthy. I have a doctor who understands me and is working with me realistically on being healthier. He told me how important it is to take care of myself. He agreed the prozac will help with the bingeing/emotional/stress eating. I have firm written documented in three, count them, 3 places that in the last 6 weeks I've walked, I've lost weight, and my health is better.
Solid proof. I think God heard my prayers there. I need the tangable, touchable proof that I am changing, my body is changing, and what I am doing is just right for me. What a wonderful gift that is.
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