Kickboxing or Kicking the Scale

It is another day, another workout, and another chance to follow good eating habits. What a great way to start the day… kickboxing my frustrations away while toning my abs, arms and legs at oh-god-thirty in the am. Breakfast with a perfectly great flax cereal topped with a little almond milk (yeah, no dairy for me unless I want my arthritis to kick up and my face to breakout).

Side note from my esthetician to you, milk (from any critter) is a mucus based substance that does nothing for you other than to snot up your system, clog up your pores and creep into your aching joints.

Now back to me and my battle with the scale. It popped me again this morning with a ½ lb. weight gain after having slept in yesterday and doing a pitiful workout last night. Not drinking wine, not having dairy, cutting a lot of processed carbs and still it has the gall to spank me. At the ripe old age of 45+ something, I am at the point in my life where I can barely hold my own with exercise and diet. Okay really, I am not holding my own as the pounds are starting to accumulate on my hips and thighs again. Background… I had lost about 60 lbs. during the course of a divorce and I’ve managed to keep off half of that amount. It was a lot easier while I owned the fitness kickboxing facility and taught about 10 – 12 classes a week (yes, I said a week). And I was still just holding my own at 194 lbs.

SCREAM, I guess the only solution is to quit eating that addictive substance called food, exercise every waking hour and have no life before I drop dead. That just does not sound fun to me at all. Thank the gods that I love to exercise. Yes, you read that right. I am a freak about exercise and trying new things and reading all the magazines. I just don’t want to spend all my free time exercising with a growly hungry stomach. Meet the ultimate famine survival machine, my body.