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An Unusual Addiction --
"Really? You certainly don't look that
old!"
I hear this comment rather a lot lately.
The emphasis is likely to shift from word to word depending on
the locale, and who's doing the commenting. Well, to be sure,
I don't feel this old, either. But then, having
never been this age before, I don't exactly know how it
is supposed to feel. I only know that two years ago, I
felt at least ten years older than I do today.
So what happened? Several interesting
things, actually, beginning in February 2002. No, really, it
began in May, 1991, when my gall bladder ruptured. It was a
major ouch, let me tell you. While I was unconscious, my
daughter decided I should quit smoking. Easy for her to say,
but since I couldn't get out of bed to get them for myself,
once I did wake up, I did indeed quit smoking. Now, of course,
I'm happy that she made that decision for me, but then --? I
was not a very happy Mama, believe me.
Once back home again, the recuperation
period was much longer than I'd anticipated, and as a writer,
my life had already been rather sedentary for at least ten
years. Coupled with the new no smoking regime, I promptly
gained a whole lot of weight that I didn't need or want, but
couldn't seem to get rid of. I don't know exactly how much I
did weigh in February, 2002, but I had been weighed the
previous June at my annual checkup, so I had a reasonable
idea.
I don't know that I'd go so far as to say
that I was depressed then, exactly, but I wasn't overly happy,
either. In a few short months, I'd found myself unemployed,
having to move, having to cope with finding another car
because my old one died completely, and with, seemingly, a
different physical ailment every month or so. Now I know these
were mostly caused by stress, but at the time, I just wanted
to give up. I'd always been reasonably healthy, but these
niggling problems were just too much aggravation on top of
everything else!
And then, just when I needed one the
most, a good friend stepped in with a suggestion. Had I tried
any of the salads from the nearby fast food emporium? Well,
no, I hadn't. Salads were okay; I could take them or leave
them. So I thought. I carefully inspected her 'oriental' salad
one evening, and thought I'd try one. I did, and I was hooked!
What a lovely and interesting mélange of flavors were combined
in that salad! And the dressing! Ah, to die for. (Not really,
of course.) Just totally scrumptious, that's all.
A day or two later, I tried another
salad. And before I quite knew what had happened, I found
myself having one of these salads every other night or so. And
then, nearly every night! I was actually looking forward to
eating a salad! I still find that incomprehensible, but
it's still true, too, more now than it was then. Towards the
end of March, 2002, I made the amazing discovery that my
clothes were too big for me. I didn't have a scale, so
couldn't really verify anything, but definitely, I was losing
weight. And the only thing really different was those salads.
Hmmm.
Trying to lose weight is very difficult.
I know. I'd tried many, many times through the years. But when
you lose weight without really trying, that's an entirely
different matter! Now that I was started, I began to make a
more conscious effort to eat less, and to watch what I did
eat. Then, I started a very gentle exercise program that I
devised for myself. I started very slowly; three reps of six
different exercises. The second week, I upped it to five, then
eight and then ten reps. When I got to fifteen, I stayed
there, and I've not missed one day—not one!—since March 24,
2002. I've never been so faithful at anything like this in my
life. Strange to say, I rather enjoy it now. Especially so, as
I've reaped the various benefits of my scattered sowing
attempts.
Having moved to University Circle, I
started walking—here, there and everywhere within a mile or so
from where I live. It's such a beautiful area in which to
walk, with trees and flowers and grassy expanses amidst the
buildings. I walk to the rapid stop or to Euclid Avenue to
catch a bus, rather than driving. Severance Hall, the Art
Museum, The Peter B. Lewis Building, and in the other
direction, the post office or Sight Center, where I volunteer
once a week, are all only about a 15-20 minute walk away from
home.
And still, my body is adjusting itself
admirably to my new life. The clothes that no longer fit me
last spring were mostly women's 2 or 3x. Now, I'm in a ladies
size 14! To the best of my knowledge, I weigh nearly 60 pounds
less than I did just 16 months ago. People I've not seen for a
while don't always recognize me at first glance. And God help
me, I've even taken up running. Me! The original couch potato.
A couple of months ago, I had one of
those 'ahah!' moments while reading the paper, and suddenly,
lots of things started to make sense. This was an article
about the new food groups pyramid, and just how many servings
of the various food groups one should have in a day. It made
me realize that for probably the first time in my life, I had
been very close to the supposedly ideal diet. As I'd never
salted salads, and still don't, my salt intake had decreased
by about 90%, I should think. And, instead of a sandwich and
potato chips for an un-needed lunch, followed by an evening
meal (but no snacks between then and bedtime, a habit I never
did form, thank goodness!) I was now having about two cups of
greens, a bit of tomato or celery or peppers, or other veggies
or even fruits, plus small amounts of cheese and/or chicken,
or both. No wonder my blood pressure went from 156/80 to
118/64 some six months later. And it's still there!
No wonder I don't look my age. I don't
act it either! And I'm not about to, if I can help it. I guard
my independence with a tenacious ferocity, and prize my
part-time job as much as I do my Social Security checks that
arrive promptly each month, exactly when they're supposed to.
I learn new things every day; meet new people, smell new
flowers. Read more books (and work at writing more) and watch
no TV.
My waistline measures just two inches
more than it did when I graduated from high school, and two of
my class-mates and I are busily planning our 50th reunion for
next year. I wouldn't want to live another 66 years, but so
far, I must confess to being very satisfied with the first 66.
Of course there are some few things I'd change if I could, but
more that I wouldn't. No matter what. Every person I've met,
everything I've done has contributed to the me I am today. And
on the whole, I think I'm doing pretty good, thank you.
And yes, I'm still eating salads, nearly
every night, in fact. I don't seem to care much for 'real'
food anymore. Furthermore, I'm having so much fun creating my
own salads—and dressings—these days, I may just have to write
a book about them!
Kelly Ferjutz
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