Overkill; Or, Packing on the Pounds

So I had to go to the doctor yesterday to see if I was in the midst of having a stroke or some other serious vascular disturbance (several days of a seriously painful vein in my leg, random, and a pounding headache had me worried). Fortunately, my doctor thought it was nothing more than early-onset vericose veins (sexy!) and residual sinus headache from a sinus infection I didn't realize I had last week. Good news aside, that wasn't the big takeaway from the doctor visit....I had to get weighed while I was there.

And while it was not surprising that I gained some weight, the total amount of weight I had gained was stunning. I thought I might have gained 5-7 lbs...maybe. Nope. Maybe 10 lbs. Nope. Try 15 lbs since my last appointment in February! Holy moly! And this means I've gained a grand total of 20 lbs since my wedding last October. I gave myself a bit of a pass following our wedding since we had a long honeymoon planned in Hawaii, and by the time we got back, we were sliding right into Thanksgiving, then Christmas, then New Years. And somehow 10 months later, 20 lbs had found their way on my body (and I'm one of those lucky people who gain weight only in her midsection).

Ick.

And I am a lucky girl because my husband has not made a single comment about my ever-expanding girth. And when I've whined about it, he's only been supportive and said he'd go along with any food changes or exercise plans I wanted to work into my life. Nice. And yet I've done nothing.

What's a particularly cruel irony (and an obvious explanation for this little predicament I find myself in) is how very much I enjoy food. I read copious amounts of food blogs, restaurant reviews, chef memoirs, you name it. I love to eat out (and do so frequently). I really like to cook. I even have a food blog here in Cincinnati. But I need to make some changes. But I'm not interested in going on a strict diet, and I'm not interested in becoming a gym fanatic. But I have to do something. If nothing else, I have to stop the weight gain. And I need to be mindful that my weight, combined with my serious hatred of my job and the seemingly endless stress it causes, is going to lead me to some serious health crisis sooner than later. While I was driving to the doctor yesterday, I couldn't help but think I'm now only 5 years younger than my dad was when he dropped dead of a heart attack at 41. I really need to make some changes.

And the food and exercise is something I can try to make some inroads on immediately. I'm not going to go crazy or drive myself crazy, but I need to get a healthier perspective and act on it. And then I'm going to have to tackle this job drama and find something that doesn't counteract my efforts. Oy.