Nope. Not gonna get syrupy and saccharine (or is it Splenda-ed now?)
Today, the eating season concludes. The eating season, at least on my calender, begins on Thanksgiving Day (great meal, Kim), quickly jumps into Christmas (great sugar cakes, Pam), and carries over into January with nearly two weeks of bowl games, then into February with the Super Bowl (great chili, Kim) and an endless string of relatives' birthdays (great banana Bundt cake, Kim). We finish off the orgy with chocolate treats today (great raisin clusters, Jeanne).
Burp. 'Scuse me.
Through all this, I've watched my waistline expand without restraint. My butt has gotten so big that truthfully I should spell it now with three T's — a triple T buttt.
So now I start work on reversing this ugly process. This is going to require eating smarter and lots of exercise.
There's no thought here to pay for a diet plan, diet pills or diet drinks. Usually don't work for me anyway.
What does work is taking in less calories and then burning off most of the ones I do consume, which means exercise. This is no secret formula.
My exercise plan is simple enough, because I've done it before. Walk. I enjoy walking. It's low impact on my knees, and if I keep a steady pace, it's a decent cardiovascular workout. (Although I was once passed by two pregnant women on walking trail I use despite the fact that I was be-bopping along at a pretty good pace — I thought. I was close to being disillusioned). I try to walk an hour each day, which usually covers about four miles.
When I feel like I'm starting to get in shape, I'll tack on another half hour or so and crank it up to about a six-mile workout. Some days might even see 10 miles. A morning walk, and an afternoon walk. It can be, umm, addictive.
Fortunately for me, there's a walking trail not far from my house at Grimes School. It's a half-mile walk through a beautiful residential area for me to get there, and I seem to know a lot of people who live there, which makes it fun. It's also a great way to get some mindless thinking (huh?) done.
Ultimately, I know this plan works for me.
It fits me to a T.