After a semi-deep dive into clues about Aubrey Plaza’s husband’s suicide—and coming up with nothing—I zombie-walked across the room. Zombie-walking, for the uninitiated, is a confident forward thrust with one leg while the other slides passively behind. My fear of pressing too hard on my still-asleep foot, risking a twist or break, kept me moving with this cautious shuffle.
I wanted to make the most of my alone time. The possibilities seemed endless with Dave at a meeting and Evelyn in bed, . So what did I do? I shuffled over to a spoon with about 15 drops of water in it, zoomed in on the less-than-pencil-thin worm under the microscope light, and carried the spoon’s handle to the laundry room sink. There, I returned the wiggly little guy to the plant from which he came.
The worm’s journey was a result of my new watering method. Inspired by a video, I’ve been setting my plants in baths of water, allowing them to drink from the bottom up. Apparently, this tiny creature hitched a ride and ended up my first live specimen under the microscope. Earlier, I’d examined a dead stink bug, but the worm felt far more thrilling.
But back to my alone time—what does one even do when the house is tidy enough, and you’ve already been stimulated both physically and intellectually? Fiction reading paired with easy-listening music might be the move.
Now, here’s where things get personal. I’ve been thinking about my weight loss journey. I both want to talk about it and don’t. On the one hand, I’m so happy. My clothes feel roomier, I’m motivated daily to do yoga, and I feel in control around food. On the other hand, weight loss feels superficial, like a topic too personal to share, almost like a dirty secret. Maybe that’s part of what held me back in the first place—the resignation I felt about doing anything.
The shift from resignation to empowerment has been incredible. Seeing my body change and feeling hope for its future has been transformative. But I know this isn’t a quick sprint; it’s a marathon. I’m doing the hard work now for what I hope will become a lifelong path of maintenance.
One of my keys to success has been setting achievable goals with realistic time frames. I knew a pound or so of weight loss per week was doable, but I held myself to a lesser standard; keeping my expectations low helped me stay consistent. Accountability has also played a huge role—stepping on the scale every morning and night has kept me honest. Sure, there have been frustrating moments, like after a book club dinner where I thought I’d been careful, only for the scale to say otherwise. But the numbers don’t lie. They tell the tale, and I’ve learned to view them as tools, not judgments.
Right now, I’m just two or three pounds away from reaching my second goal. At this pace, I might hit it by the weekend. After that, I’ll have about fourteen pounds left to go before reaching a “healthy weight.” I plan to break it up into seven-pound increments and give myself plenty of time. There’s no rush—this is about rewiring my brain with healthy habits and discipline.
The house is quiet now, the spoon is back where it belongs, and the worm is probably happily burrowing in its soil. I think I’ll grab my book, settle into the couch, and let this moment of peace sink in.
Until next time, take care.
Love,
Jaclynn
PS This post’s photo was taken from my baby book.
Going On 40 