100. Or...The True Story of How I Am Almost There....

I find it rather fitting that I just saw this is the 100th post. This blog was begun as a way to help me lose weight by keeping me "honest". And yet, in my absence of quite a few more months that I liked to see, I am almost done with my weight loss....journey?

That sounds too touchy-feely, too hokey. I am 3.5 pounds away from actually being within my BMI range----a feat that has not been accomplished in adult memory. To date, I have lost 36 pounds and I like---really like---what I see in the mirror.

I went back to the tried and true Weight Watchers. Because IT WORKS. This time has been different than my last 3 (recorded online; there might have been an additional one in there where I didn't record my progress online) attempts at WW. It feels different and has, quite honestly, been the easiest thus far.

For me, it was just a matter of relaxing. There has been a lot of positive thinking in terms of "This will be a success; it feels different." Or more accurately, "This feels different; it will be a success." I get up and walk every morning for at least a half hour, sometimes more. Not walking has not really been an option. Snooze button has not really been an option. And I don't really fight myself about it as I have in the past. There aren't really anymore of in-my-brain discussions or even getting a little mad that I have to get up and walk crap. Part of why it feels different is that there is just......I can't explain.....there is acceptance that this is what I have to do. It isn't a punishment for being fat, it isn't a bad thing, it isn't something that I will quit cold turkey when I have reached my goal.

Walking is my deal of choice for many reasons. It's free, for cripes sake. I roll out of bed, maybe/maybe not with the hair brushing so much.....and I am out the door in 3 minutes, cranking the tunes and enjoying the peace of the morning. I get up before my husband is up, before the dog is up(although Lionel has taken to taking my spot in the bed....) and see my regulars in the morning. There is the lady with the gray teeth and the grandpa in shorts and a gray mustache on his bike---ringing his bike bell to warn me he is coming. (There is a post coming with more about him.) I am going to have to figure out an alternative for when there is ice in the winter, but other than that....I walk. Rain or shine. It wakes me up, I feel better, I have more energy and it is out of the way first thing in the morning. I start to stress if I leave it for later, so I just do it right away. Done and done.

"Doing" Weight Watchers feels different because I am not battling myself nor beating myself up. I have gained a couple pounds a week here or there but I don't use it as an excuse to eat everything. Because it feels different. I don't sweat the gains because I know I will increase my walking the following week, or watch my points more closely, or make sure to get my healthy oils in that week, or make sure I take my multivitamin every day that week. And I lose the next week. I am not looking for a number as a goal....even now, I don't know what my ultimate goal will be. OF course, my goal is to be within a healthy BMI (174), but then I think, "Well, maybe 170...a nice round number and a little buffer." Then I think, "165? A little bigger buffer." We'll see how I feel at 170, to stay at 165 may be more work than I want to live my life by.

This time feels like when I quit smoking and it has felt like this since the very beginning. I just decided that I was no longer a smoker and pretty much quit cold turkey, October 1, 2001. There were maybe one or two regret cigs, but they tasted awful by that point and I didn't really enjoy smoking any more. Same deal with the couple weeks that I have gained. They felt bad; I felt bad. Not mentally---I knew what I was doing, I accepted the fact that I wanted a free-for-all couple days and more importantly....I accepted the fact that there would be consequences and I would have to make compensations the next week. And then I DID! What's more, I just felt physically crappy eating crappy food and lots of it.

I really don't obsess about it as I have in the past. I only weigh myself once a week. The previous times I would be tracking every morning and then that sometimes dictated what kind of day I would have, mood-wise. Once a week, my weigh in day on Monday, and that is it. I look forward to Mondays, honestly. Partly because most Mondays, there has been some sort of weight loss----sometimes a surprising amount.

I also don't obsess about points as I have in the past. I track my points, even when I eat something crappy (That I decide to eat and not beat myself up for the choice and just enjoy it.) It is about the total picture of the week. I have extra points each week and for the most part I dip into them each week. Some weeks are deeper dips than others. When I go into my exercise points, after blowing by all my weekly points and daily points....I usually have stayed the same or gained a little. But again, I compensate the next week. I am not going to lose all my weight in one week; a marathon, not a sprint.

Lastly, I am not really using the Weight Watchers recipes or fat-free products, or any thing that allows me to eat as I once did just with fewer points. That is not how my husband and I live. That is not something I want to sustain. I like the taste of real whipped cream. If I know I want to have chocolate pudding, with whipped cream and raspberries.....then I have to eat fewer points during the day to account for it. Then I can enjoy it. I have found that I prefer to have points that I have to eat at the end of the day rather than the other way around. It makes me not stress. For example, today I met my brothers for lunch and ordered broiled walleye, not realizing it would be broiled in butter. Well, that butter ate up most of my points and I now have no points left for the day. Which means that I will dip into my weekly points for dinner tonight. I still haven't had my healthy oils for the day. Which means sauteed veggies in olive oil is for supper for me. Maybe some popcorn after supper if I am still hungry. And now, I have learned to ask how food is prepared before I order. I am a little stressed that I don't have points, but have also learned a valuable lesson not to be repeated. I have let it go and accepted that this is today's gig.

In the end, it has come down to decisions and the mental part of weight loss. It has always been this for me. I have been concerned about my weight for most...strike that...ALL of my life. As a result, I have read many books, learned many things, and know a lot about how to lose weight. Yet, I never have been successful for any period of time or with this large of a loss. It feels different because I am actually doing the things I have learned and stopped freaking out about all the static that was my downfall before---every time. "What if I gain it back?" (I won't; I am going to be honest with myself when I gain and get on top of it the following week) "I am not losing weight fast enough." (So what?!?! I am still losing weight overall and am going to continue to do the things that have been working for me in the past.) And on and on and blah blah blah. I don't care about the excuses or negotiations anymore.

It just feels different and I am really really proud of myself.

A Good Day.

No one says that anymore. "A good day to you, sir." "It was a good day." Today...today was a good day. For no particular reason, which is the best kind of good days. I walked with my mom and her friend this morning--a beautiful morn, crisp-ish, fall weather, yet warm enough to wear shorts, bright sun, fall leaves beginning to appear yet summer flowers sort of still blooming. Then I went to the co-op to buy bread flour because we are out and they sell it in bulk. I love the bulk food section at the co-op. All these things that I might like to try, but you know what.........I don't have to buy a big honking bag of it. I can take a taste size portion. It just makes so much sense.

Then to the cobbler. No one says cobbler anymore unless they are talking about desserts. I am here to bring it back. It just seems so much more civilized to say cobbler rather than shoe repair guy. Then, home to clean, roast more peppers, cook steel cut oatmeal for the week (We reheat it each morning: supes dupes good.), pickled some eggs (I hope these turn out better than the last...they were gross. Way too sweet, like there was a cinnamon or clove flavor or something. Ish.), still doing laundry, work on the powerball project, went to the goodwill to drop some stuff off, made pizza dough for supper, dug up the rosemary plant from the garden to pot so I can have it indoors this winter, walked Sophs, and just in general puttered. Tonight, we eat homemade pizza with homemade pepperoni and fresh mozzarella and roasted peppers. Then, we'll maybe watch a movie and just enjoy the evening. Tomorrow we are off to Fargo for family portraits, so it is good I got all that done. I am gonna gag pretty soon with all this positiveness oozing from me. But I do love me a productive day of puttering. Things that needed to be done, but that I was in the mood to do; serendipity, my friends, serendipity.

You can bet your sweet ass I made a list, though.

Grown Home

This is a grown house, designed by Lois Walpole for the place where I do some of my walking. It is really quite interesting. Obviously for decoration here, not for actual living. Most everything is living and formed into the shape of something you might find in an actual home. Such as a bed. Like deeeees:

Or a table and chairs, like so:

I find it all interesting because I picture fairies and elf-ish type characters (fun fairy tale ones, not the Hobbitt-y ones) living in places like this for real. I picture myself shrinking down so that this would be from their perspective, and I would be fairy sized and this could really be my home. And my fairy friends could come over and have tea and crumpets at this table and it would all be so very wonderful.

Do you think I should cut back on the cold medicine or the gin first?

Efalumps and Woozles.

Winnie the Pooh video, I think...I can 't remember who I was babysitting or nannying years ago, but they loved this video that had the Efalumps and Woozles song on it. I watched it approximately a bajillion times. A rather dark and scary, psychedelic bad LSD trip video. Where some character (I can't even be sure if it was Pooh) was being chased down by the Ephalumps and the Woozles. I am surprised more children who view it aren't scarred for life.

This tree always makes me sing the song that is the soundtrack for that part of the video. I think it reminds me of Dr. Seuss and something that he would have drawn as a tree...and it has come to life. "Form of a Tree, Shape of an Elephant"---I realize that it was always some form of water, and never a tree...but that would not necessarily work here. I live by my own rules, people.

Maybe because it reminds me of Snufalufagus from Sesame Street? I have warped my childhood elephants all into one: Horton (Who Heard a Hoot, apparently) and The Efalump, and Snufalufagus. I am surprised Dumbo didn't make an appearance; although, not really. I never really cared for Dumbo. I mean the character is fine, I just never really got into the movie. (I hated the part where they dressed him up as a baby clown and made him deal with the fire flames.)

I had a bunch of Babar books when I was little that my mom would read to me or I would just look at, but they never really put a hook in me. He seemed nice, but kinda snootysville. Wow. Where was I?

Anyway, this tree is on my walk that I occasionally take, and I always end up singing a few bars in my head as I walk by. I have a couple things going for me regarding this:

1.) I am singing in my head and not out loud.

2.) You are the only ones that know about this, so far.

3.) I understand it is a tree and not some scary monster come to life. Which could be troubling if I were writing about that. I can pretty much predict a drop in readership should that ever happen. Or.....maybe a rise---checking in on the nut job who thinks trees are elephants.

Things I Like.

I gotta tell ya.......you keep me honest. You keep me on track. I came home from a training thingy today at the District Office and I knew I had to get my walk in before it got to hot. NOT going was not even an option in my brain. And I don't think I am being highly Militant Freakshow here. It was just what had to be done today....go for a walk.

Additionally, I only even MADE half a sandwich because I knew with a side salad, I would be too full for a whole sandwich. Which, it turns out, I was right. The half with the salad and a FEW Doritos was just enough. Satisfied, full, content. Not stuffed, not uncomfortable, not ashamed at having eaten food that I knew I didn't really want.

How that does all tie to you?

Well, I thought about what I wanted to post today and I thought some views from my walk might be fun to write about. Which, you know, meant I had to actually go on the walk.

The lunch choice: well, I remembered writing about the wedding this week end and make okay choices (Especially compared to what I have done in the past at these types of events....) and that encouraged me to make a good choice for lunch today.

And finally, my nemesis.......Captain D. I DID want the zingy, the zip, the crunch......but I only had 6 maybe 7 Doritos instead of the gargantuan portion I usually take. All as a result of thinking about what I wrote a couple days ago. This was a time where I did want them and it wasn't just because they were sitting in front of me and I wasn't really thinking about what I was eating. I sure did enjoy them.

So. Here is one thing I enjoy about my longer walk. I have a short one, "in town", that I do. This longer one gets down and dirty out in the country. Well, I am still on a paved road, but you know what I mean. The corn looks really good. That's how you can tell I am country folk.

Whenever we are driving somewhere, inevitably we drive alongside countless fields of corn and soybean, and occasionally hay in various stages of growth, cutting or harvesting. You can tell we are country people, for now, because we say things like, "Boy, the corn looks good, huh?" Or, "Corn could sure use some rain, there, huh?" "Is that the second or third cutting? (Of hay)"

I grew up in the suburbs, so I think it is really cool to see the whole farming process on a daily basis. Not that I am doing any of the work or worrying for "real" about the rain or lack thereof, but I like watching the cycles of life and whatnot.

Which leads me, in a rather long winded way, to this:

I love when you can see the rows.

It makes me think of Farmer Joe, sitting on his Tractor, tilling the fields in the early spring, waiting for the field to be dry enough so as not to muck up all his gear so he can plant. The nice neat row after row. It is weird that I find it.......I don't know.......comforting? Organized? I just like it.

It reminds me of riding in the car either north to my uncles' farms or south to my grandparents' house. Sitting in the back seat of the Woody Stationwagon (But not the way back, that was where my brothers usually were), leaning up against the window, zoning out at the view outside.

When the farmers planted parallel to the road we were on, it was just solid corn that you could run into and get lost. There was something courageous about that. Not that I ever would have done it, but it would have been creating you own private space int he middle of a corn field. Of course, owned by someone else and would have gotten me into high holy hell if I had run off or messed up some one's cornfield.

When they planted perpendicular to the road, you could get lost zoning out on each row and the car zoomed by. My eyes would play games and try and keep up with each row but, of course, my eyes were never fast enough. It is one of those childhood memories burned onto the inside of my brain. That and watch the phone/electricity lines swoop and dance as the car went by.

Here is something that concerns me.

Are those leaves turning colors??!?!?

On Track.

I had a minor victory this morning.

I will be attending my cousin's wedding this afternoon 2-2.5 hours north of here. I was supposed to meet my family at my parents' house at 9:30. The wedding wasn't until 3 and then the supper afterwards at the church. We were going to get my grandfather, who is at his cabin nearby the church, and then go to the ceremony.

Turns out one of my brothers and his wife are driving separately and asked if I wanted to ride with them. Yes. Which means I have an extra 2 hours as I am not meeting them until 11:30.

What I had planned to do was to clean up a bit......just in case we get some sucker to come and look at this place to buy it. And then I was going to lounge a little bit and gear up for the day of drama that is sure to ensue at the wedding.

I got up early so we could have breakfast together as we always do. And then did the math in my head and realized that I would not be home until, most likely, dark. Which means I would probably not get my walk in today. I have walked everyday since I started this blog. I know myself well enough to know that this is how the Militant Freakshow disappears, slowly, unnoticeable in her fade out. A day here, a day there and then suddenly I haven't walked in over two weeks, then two months. I made a commitment to myself that I was going to be healthier and in that plan I included walking every day.

So, I had the time. I got my ipod and just went. Didn't negotiate with myself and now I am back and still have time to clean and straighten up a bit and leisurely get ready for the day. Minor victory, but victory nonetheless.

I do want to mention that I am a bit worried about my focus at the supper. Talking to people and relatives I haven't seen in a while may lead to not paying attention to what I am eating. In addition, there won't be a choice of what I eat. Which could be pretty damaging.

My plan: I am going to bring a snack/lunch/tide me over type deal. Since we will be driving during lunch and then supper isn't until later. I know that when I get really hungry, I don't give a crap what I eat. Poor choices ensue.

I am up for the challenge of the day.

Where Has the Summer Gone?

Did the summer FLY by? Now, I realize that it is still the beginning of August, but I have half my body mentally out the door of summer. August, for me, means gearing up for School.

Usually, the first Sunday paper adverts containing back to school stuff start appearing mid-July. Bastards. Our neighbor children are still shooting off fireworks on a nightly basis how can they even fathom purchasing the big box of Crayolas or pencil boxes??? (Newsflash: The Surfers are being evicted!!! Sweet. More on that in a later post....)

August, despite the heat and humidity, is a good month. Not my fave, but up there. (I don't know if I have a fave.) Anyway, the garden, begun a couple months ago, is beginning to come to fruition. Literally. I actually made and froze pesto a couple weeks ago with half my basil crop. That was a proud moment. Usually, it goes to seed and I haven't followed through with my big plans. Not this year, dammit.

So...There...Then...Girl: 1, Garden Procrastination: 0.

Yay me.

The tomatoes are in and beginning to ripen:

This year, as last year, I have a variety called Druzhba. Yep. It is a Bulgarian heirloom variety. I heart it; I spent 2 years in the Peace Corps there and it reminds me of my former home. I used to hate tomatoes. HATE them. (I would still eat ketchup and salsa, but plain RAW tomatoes? Barf. ---Side note---I love the word "Barf". The "Buh" with the "Are" ending nicely and conclusively with the "Fuh". One clear syllable.) Turns out, if you eat produce that has been allowed to ripen naturally, it makes a friggin' difference. Not any of those pink, mealy tomatoes of Minnesota groceries in the winter trucked in from who knows where. The tomatoes in Bulgaria converted me. It was like, "SER-iously??? I like tomatoes now??"

I now grow them in my own garden. If you would have told 13 year old me THAT, she would have rolled her 'Tweener eyes, sighed dramatically and with the condescension only a 13 year old can perfect, "Yeah. Riiiight. WhatEVER. (Silently, in her head, "I hate you. And tomatoes.")" Those of you that deal with 13 year olds know of what I speak. Or...if you knew 13 year old me.

I also have Bulgarian peppers, simply called Chushka. Which is just "Pepper" in Bulgarian. If I remember correctly, Druzhba means friendship, but I can't be certain.

I am really doing well with this whole healthy living thing. I went for a walk with my mom this morning where we usually go. It is a four season landscaping research area; I really have enjoyed going at various times during the year to see the different seasons in action. We HAVE gone in the winter. Once, I think. It was late winter and a "nice" day, maybe just above freezing.....What??? That counts. While I have been doing great moving by walking everyday and doing good food-choice-wise, I fear myself.

See, this is where I am in my Militant Freakshow Wannabe stage. I am full steam ahead with new lifestyle, new choices, new motivation. I fear that it won't last. But, really..........that's just stupid. Part of the reasoning in creating this blog is to acknowledge these fears, put them out there in the Interweb-o-sphere and then laugh at them. Scoff in their face, if you will. I would never spit at them, though. That's gross. Barf.

I fear that it won't last because history has shown that So...There...Then Gal always starts out like this and then gets bored, frustrated, crabby, restricted-feeling, lazy...you pick one....and then melts back into old habits of excuses and patterns.

Then, I start getting mad, disappointed, frustrating with myself for having failed again at losing weight and sticking to it. (For those of you that have struggled with weight or something similar, you know of what I speak, yes?) Then it all goes to s*** and I eat a suitcase because it doesn't matter anymore and I have given up already.

I have matured to a point in this struggle that I know that the "fear it won't last" is pretty spot on about me......but also, at the same time, pretty ridiculous. The fear is not coming from something imposed from the outside, it is all me. Duh. I can chose to, or not to, do something. No one is barring my way from walking, no one is somehow opening my mouth and making me ingest a morsel of food. It is a decision to be made in the moment. If I do "screw up", then I get back on track and move on. A screw up is put in quotes because it is only a screw up if I eat a suitcase's worth of food as a result.

It is not a "screw up" if I acknowledge it, make the decision to NOT eat a suitcase, enjoy whatever it is that I decided to eat or do instead of exercise. Then, in the next day's moment, maybe I walk an extra 20 minutes or eat a salad to compensate for the previous day's decision.

It isn't rocket science here, people. (Insert eyeroll/dramatique sigh combo here.)

So. There. Then.

I Am Not a Militant Freakshow.

So. There I was in an all fire hurry to get the shoes (Oh, the shoes....) the other day. I have reached critical mass once again and I feel the need to do something about it. Also a motivation to start the blog, actually.

I have always been a "Big Boned Gal". Even big headed, and not in the egotistical sense. Literally. A BIG head. My mom enjoys telling people that whilst I was a babe, she had to make sure to get the shirts with snaps on the side so that she could get the darn thing over my head. Pretty Girl.

We're gonna start with a clean slate here, no secrets between us. I don't want to be model thin. Nor do I want to be "thin" or "skinny" as a label. I just want to be healthy. That in and of itself is a change from a decade ago. I DID want to be "thin" as a label. As in, "Yeah, the girl over there...the "Thin" one." That ship has sailed, my friend. The desire, not the reality. I could be "thin" but I think I would obsess about food too much (read: More.) and I would have to work out much more than I am right now (read: None.) and gasp on a REGULAR BASIS. Those that know me, know that while I am gung ho in the beginning about working out and watching what I eat (read: Militant Freakshow.)....it doesn't last.

Let's step inside the Way Back Machine for a moment, shall we? From what I can remember ....besides sneaking the Oreos when no one was looking by climbing up on the counter....I know. It's not a pretty thing to admit. But, it's out there. So.........my first experience with my "issues" was Diet Center in 6th Grade. Yep, folks. 6th grade, on an official diet where you go in to get weighed (I can't remember if this one was weekly or daily.). How old are you in 6th grade? 12? 11? Christ. All I took away from that was the memory of homemade mayonnaise. I hearted it.

Again, Diet Center in 11th grade. I look at pictures from High School and think, "Cripes, I looked pretty good. What was the deal?" But, I clearly remember, CLEARLY, hating my body and the way that I looked. Why don't the young realize what they have and just enjoy life? If I could go back for real, I would give myself a real good talking to. For sure.

Summer after graduating, spent in Ecuador. Let's just say that my new intestinal friends helped with the weight loss effort. Didn't last.

College was fun, but not necessarily my shining moment in terms of healthy eating.

OH! I forgot my Richard Simmons kick in junior high??? At some point in my life, I watched the Richard Simmons show, I might or might not have exercised along with Richard. (He is a "Richard", not a Rich, Richie, Dick, Dickie...this is a case of where the personality is name-specific.) Again, not proud, but there it is. I think I even had his book, one of them, in my possession at one time. Oh, the shame.

Various Diets With a Capital D that I have tried (and remember):

South Beach Diet (Ick. And WAY too expensive.)

French Women Don't Get Fat (But apparently this "diet" does not get past immigration in my house, although it had some really, REALLY good, helpful information about changing my mindset towards food, weight, dieting, exercising, etc.)

Weight Watchers [To date: I believe 3, maybe 4 times. It is a really good program, and one of the most sensible..........but, as I said, I am NOT a militant Freakshow. I do okay at the beginning because I have something to focus on and obsess over (counting points, not counting points, getting all my dairy in, blah blagh, blahhhhhh.), but eventually I hate the control and restrictions I place on myself and slowly sneak back into old habits. It really works for some people and I truly, honestly, not-trying-to-be-Pollyanna-here am really happy for them. And oddly proud of them, even though I don't know these Nebulous, Unknown Weight Watchers.]

The No Fat Diet (Everything you eat is non fat. And also, apparently, non taste. Enter a Doritos Incident.)

"Diets Don't Work" Nope. They don't. And neither does your book.

I am sure there were more official ones, but these are the ones that jump out in my brain. There have been multiple attempts at "Just Eating Right". Read: Just Not Paying Attention.

So. Here I am. I am not a Militant Freakshow. You know the type. It becomes a religion. I can think that I will stick to a diet and exercise, but I know that eventually, I will be found beating myself up and drowning my sorrows, Dorito dust still lingering in the air. (My love hate relationship with Doritos will be discussed in a future post. Let's just say, "We have issues.")

I can't...well, I CAN, but I know that I won't...be the hyper-vigilant dieter who counts calories and fat grams and bottles of water and minutes exercised and calories used, etc. There is a part of me that really wishes that I was. Truly was a Militant Freakshow. Because then this would no longer be an issue for me. Diet Center in 6th grade would have given me the tools and I would be over my dealings with the scale in a frustrating way.

Since I am not a Militant Freakshow, I have to figure out a method that will work for me. The one thing all the business with the Diets above has gotten me is knowledge. All the books I read and meetings I have gone to have given me information. Eat less. Move more. This, I know. We all know it. I eat mindlessly. I eat huge portions. I eat fast. All of it, all of the sordid mess.

I HAVE begun a walking regimen. 30 minutes last night after I posted and 30 minutes this morning. So. There, then. I am not on a diet. I am changing habits to live a healthier life, not to lose weight. Although, that WILL be a byproduct. I weighed 200.5 lbs 3 days ago. I'd like to be able to say I threw out my scale after that, but I didn't. I (in my Militant Freakshow Flashback) have weighed myself every morning and have dropped a pound each day. Duh. I know it is all water, but it feels good. I am not going to be weighing myself every day, I know it won't last and will just serve to frustrate me.

The day I weighed 200.5, my measurements were taken as well........let's discuss that tomorrow. Let's just say it relates to a Letter in the Alphabet and probably not the one you think.

Thus, the blog begun. I have tried "journaling" and it helped for a while. This is just, for me, an uber journal. If I know that people are reading it, then it holds me accountable in a place in my mind where I have supreme trouble holding myself accountable. My plan is to post everyday, sometimes related to my "Healthy Livin", sometimes not. I have sent a link to friends, in the hope that they will read or at least tell me they are reading and if other people stumble upon this blog and take something away, so be it...great. All I ask is for an occasional comment (Thanks, Rach.) every now and then to let me know you are out there. Over and out.

The Fuller Footed Gal

I have begun a walking regimen.....I mean...I have made the decision to begin a walking regimen and my old sneaks have seen better days.

I have big feet. There, I said it. Size 11, if you must know. Now, while this does not cause me embarrassment or shame, it does serve to frustrate me beyond belief if I go shoe shopping. Most stores (read: "almost all") only carry shoes up to size 10 for women. Nice. Great. Can I fit into a 10? Sure, and often did in my teens and 20s. And, if we are honest, into my early 30s. I am 38. I hit a point where I finally realized a couple of years ago: That was dumb. My feet hurt and it really didn't matter how cute the shoes were, "Fashion before Function." does not apply here.

So, yesterday, I went to DSW. Discount Shoe Warehouse, for those of you who are unlucky enough to not have one in your community.

I heart DSW.

The angel choirs sometimes sing when I walk through the doors. So many shoes and usually shoes larger than 10 for women. Yesterday, my quest was for walking shoes. I had three choices. THREE, People. A whole warehouse full, FULL, of shoes and there are three choices in my size. The choices: a metallic pink and metallic silver Adidas jobbie. A puke slate blue WITH metallic silver piping. And these babies.

The ones above, the ones I ultimately chose, are yes, you see correctly, metallic gold. Metallic. I don't get it. Why is that in fashion now? What am I, 13? And if I am and I heart the gold shoes, how miserable is my world if I am 13 and wearing size 11 already??? (Flashback to junior high, 7th grade when I was already 5'10''. Yep. No scarring of my psyche there. )

But, I digress. the question thus begs to be asked, "IF you don't like the shoes, then WHY did you buy them, Jackass?" Well, truth be told...I don't really care.

They are shoes.

They are not a tattoo on my face.

Do they serve the purpose I bought them for? Yes.

Am I really all that concerned with what people think of my footwear choices? Minimally.

And, I didn't want to spend a crapload of time going to a different store looking for shoes that would probably cost more. I wanted shoes immediamente. I have begun a walking regimen....I have made the decision to start a walking regimen.