Hello world. I’m writing about covid and my BMI and tidying up. You might want to stop right here and not read any more. The pizza was wonderful, btw.

Fourteen new cases of covid in my county since yesterday. We are, considering our size, kind of surging right now. Schools have opened and this might explain the five sick children reported in these two days. For most of last year, we didn’t see any cases at all of any age on most days, but we are a tourist destination, it’s Spring Break in other states, and when we drive to get our mail we see license plates from all over the country. I have no control over that. We mask, we avoid people, we go out only to walk daily, get our mail weekly, and for groceries every three weeks. We know many people who have been sick, and one who has died.

I finished weaving the third length for a blanket. I can control that work. Last September, I weighed over 160. At a fraction under 5’3″, my body mass index (BMI) was nearly 29, indicating “overweight”, and even though BMI is a notoriously imprecise measure of weight, I felt it. Sitting, my gut felt pinched.

My weight has fluctuated throughout my life. I weighed 114 when I started high school, 117 when I graduated, and 121 when I left the University of Washington with three degrees, six years later. I gained with my first pregnancy and took it off. I gained with my second and took off only some in the 80s. While I was coaching cross country in the 90s, I gained in the summer, even though I was routinely running six miles every other day, and weighed 141 by Labor Day, but then school and Xcountry started and I was down to 130 by my October birthday. My lowest running weight was 127 because I carried muscle.

I gained a lot of weight while my mother was ill, then lost 40 pounds after she died.

Other than the loss after my first pregnancy, none of these gains and losses were deliberate. I wasn’t paying attention and ate badly (gain) or forgot to eat (loss). I was not taking care of myself. I was bored or depressed or grieving. My favorite strategy of dealing with stress—eat your way to happiness. Except it doesn’t work.Food never made me happy.

So the end of September 2020, I started tracking my weight and what I ate. I set up a chart that emphasized eating vegetables and fruits, placed my biggest meal in the middle of the day, and set a goal of dropping to a BMI of no more than 25. I have not deprived myself of good food. In fact, I’ve eaten tastier meals mindfully. Pie and cake, and waffles for breakfast. Lots of salads and pasta and all the rest, just not too much. I had been eating from habit. Now I feed myself. I feel less hungry. The tracking forced me to pay attention, to wait, and to eat only meals and not snack.

As the weeks and then months went on, I added more information to my tracking—miles walked, and fun stuff like seaglass found, activities, goals, and events. I am retired. I have time.

So far, I’ve lost over 24 pounds and as of two weeks ago I’d lost five inches each off my hips and waist and my BMI is 24. All my clothing fits, including the petite jeans I bought on sale at Nordstrom years ago and kept even when I couldn’t get them on, much less zipped. They are loose enough now I can pull them off without unbuttoning them.

Some days I gain; some weeks I gain, but overall I’m losing and also coming to understand why. I mean to lose at least ten more pounds, maybe more. My weight loss has slowed to about half a pound or a pound a week. And it’s important that I feel better physically—fewer aches. My husband says I look good, but I never looked bad to me. 😉

I keep reading that dieting doesn’t work. But yes, it does. Diet and exercise. The thing is I have to keep doing it, like forever. Once I’ve lost weight, I’ll have to go right on eating properly for the rest of my life. Since eating better has been a pleasure, I think I should be able to do that. I just need to pay attention.

The pandemic has not been without struggle for me. Retiring in 2019 kept me safer at home, but I loved my work and still miss it. I want to go places and do things, and even though I’ve actually attended more events virtually than I would have managed at other times, I also miss my family terribly, and sometimes that feels like a lot more than an inconvenience. Even though I am not exposed to risk in my work or put out of work, the past year feels like a struggle. My distractions ended in December. For most of 2020, I was busy preparing for a show of my work which never actually materialized. I made a mess and now I have begun cleaning it up. I keep trying to figure out exactly what I am missing.

People. I miss my people.

Right?

I’m not posting a photo of my work area, which has descended into chaos. This morning, I sorted out the yarn I had lying about. I tossed some paper trash. There is a lot of organization that wants doing, a quilt still stirring in my head (fabrics all over the place), and a sweater designed, sample knit, and waiting to be cast on (safely stashed in a small bin). Lots to do.

Losing weight, gardening, weaving, quilting, writing. I will get to it all. It has been my strategy throughout my life. Focus on a couple of goals at a time. I honestly believe I can accomplish most of my ambitions, just not all at once.

We had our first vaccinations and hope to be fully vaccinated by May. Then we will go to the Portland Farmers Market (masked) and see family (also masked) and we will walk the shore and go right on.