Resolve

I think there is nothing that I can do about the unenviable position of our government in El Dorado, Texas this month, sans once again make the prayer that hard circumstances always extricates from my tongue, "Lord, come quickly!" *sigh*

So, rather than get sucked deeper into the minutia with fellow bloggers, behind the scenes, who need a good argument to get the blood pumping--instead of spending one more minute of energy and attention trying to defend the fact that I know what I meant when I wrote that post--I'm going to move on dot com, and write about something that I can do something about.

34.115.70.219.351.

Those are numbers that are trying to kill me--I'm sure of it. So sure of it that I am thanking God this week for bad news new resolve to clean up His temple.

50.90.40.190.150.

Those are the numbers that are going to save my life. It's my ideal lipid panel, and I'm going to chase after them with all my might.

Over the phone, the nurse told me that my doctor wanted to put me on a regimen of Lipitor, but I told her I was still of child-bearing age, so--no. You know...we talk about it at. every. single. appointment. and I've seen her write it down, so...you know...one would think she might remember that small detail before causing any future children of mine to grow a third eye. Anyway, I asked for a follow-up appointment, and was really excited because it occurred to me that as I clean up this temple to which God has loaned breath, a nice little side effect is that I'm going to get to be thin again!

O.k....thinner. Whatever.

I'm going to be able to wear pretty clothes. I will be able to button up a blouse and not have to sew it shut with thread or safety pins. I will be able to face a day-long field trip with the girls without getting grumpy from exhaustion. I will be able to--Lord willing--live long enough to raise these girls up and meet my grandbabies someday. And maybe even their grandbabies.

News of those numbers wasn't an easy reality to wrap my arms around. They were a disappointment because I work out 4-5 times a week: three kinds of cardio with the occasional pilates, and weight training besides. I eat good food: whole grains, good fats, select nuts, salads, fruit, lean meat.

Oh, and: m&ms, monster bagels, vats of white rice, restaurant food, french fries, chips and salsa until I can. not. eat. one. more. Wait. There's more: cheese sticks, mac 'n cheese, sweets on Sundays, big ole' bowls of cereal, yogurt smoothies.

If I continue to eat these things without even a glance at the label to find out that my "Light" yogurt smoothie has 29 grams of sugar for 6 oz. of refreshment, and my bagel has 300 calories for the quick bite that it is--I will continue to reap what I've sown.

Reaping knows no moderation. There's no mercy. No magic. Just reaping.

Calories are calories even if they're served on a pretty setting. And even if everyone else is eating. Fat grams are fat grams no matter if my husband sees me eat them or not.

In the temple of the Holy Spirit, there are simply no excuses.

And no excusing what needs to be done, either. Not even if your doctor inadvertently tries to subvert your resolve by entering the exam room with a proclamation that, "This isn't a weight thing. I don't think it's got anything to do with your weight. I think it's familial."

Of course, her opinion and perspective might have come from the factual observation that I was the slimmest person in the place.

Here's looking forward to new numbers in a couple of months! How about you? Do you even know your lipid panel numbers? Won't you take a second and say so in my poll?