It was SO cold when I took the dog out this morning. I'm so glad I've held onto my 10+ year old Big Ugly Down Jacket, that thing is a godsend at 5:30 a.m. on a morning like today. I heard an interesting observation from a woman from Syracuse the other day. She'd recently moved here, and she said our cold days can be more miserable than Syracuse, because when we get really cold we are usually also insanely dry and windy, like today. Her theory was that the extremely low humidity and the wind combine to make it feel worse than a "normal" cold day, there's no cloud cover, no moisture in the atmosphere to make the air feel a bit more comfortable. I came in from a 10 minute dog walk and my face was so dry and cold it hurt. I'd thought it was my imagination, or that I'd "gotten soft" after living here all of my adult life, but I think she's onto something with that theory.
I've been fine-tuning the Plan in my head. 25 finished projects - the blue socks are the first. 25 pounds - damn, I'm not sure that's even physically possible, the last time I was that skinny I had a lot less muscle weight on me than I have now. I was a skinny little thing in high school, but wasn't much for exercise - oh, those were the days, when losing weight meant eating a salad for lunch. Sigh. But you know, 25 pounds might be an extreme goal, but I'm not one of those who sets an impossible goal and then surrenders with: "If I don't make my goal I'm a failure!" For me, putting the number in the Demi Moore Zone is an "aim high" encouragement. Why settle for losing 5 or 10 pounds and tell myself "That's really good for someone my age!" I don't know what really good for my age can really be until I throw myself into the project and find out. Besides, 25 Projects, 25 Pounds is very catchy, don't ya think?
I should clarify: the knitting goal and the weight loss goal have absolutely nothing to do with each other, other than I hit disgust overload on both my weight and my yarn stash simultaneously. I am not using knitting as a diet tool. I'm not a snacker, so "keeping my hands busy" has nothing to do with it for me. My extra pounds stem from a slowing metabolism and a lifetime of Eating Like a Guy - portion control is not my strong point, if it's good I want some more, thank you. 10-15 years ago I could still get away with it, but my metabolism ain't what it used to be, and I sit too much these days. Rejoining the gym and taking up yoga are a good start, but it will take time to overcome years of serious sitting. The diet - South Beach and portion control - is the other factor, but fortunately the diet is really easy to stick to, I just have to remember to watch my portions and not eat like I'm 6'4" and spend my day doing manual labor. And get my ass out of my chair regularly.
Why am I psyched to do this now? I think I hit the optimum level of disgust with myself. I am unhappy with my appearance. I remember looking really, really good. I remember the confidence to wear a clingy knit dress and not wonder if I'm Bulging. And I have put this off, and talked about it, and started and stopped, and let myself backslide, and on and on, and now a year and a half has passed, and after losing 10 pounds, I stalled and then gained a couple back. Enough already. My excess fat is like the yarn stash - it has hit critical mass and it's bothering the hell out of me on a level it did not bother me before. I like myself too much to let myself go this way. The day of reckoning has arrived, and suddenly I'm really excited and ready to throw myself into this mission whole-heartedly.
And on that note, I am retiring to my nice warm bedroom, yoga and the newest pair of socks on the needles. Tomorrow will be a gym day, so that means getting to the office extremely early.