Don’t Diet while on Menopause, It’s Lethal!
The beginning of this year, 2011, I braved to step on the scale and was mortified! I weighed a hefty 229.3 pounds. So I immediately began the Atkins diet at full throttle. In 2 weeks I’d lost 8.7 pounds. I was doing great! Even my 9 year old grandson, Andrew-Jordan, when seeing me for the first time in a couple weeks said, “Bella, I almost didn’t recognize you!” Dear God, bless his little heart. I love this kid!
But since entering menopause I can’t stick to anything. I am Indecisive about everything, and am always tired and/or crying. But cooking soothes my confused emotions and gladdens my heart! Of course, eating what I’ve prepared with my own hands and to my personal liking—chowing it down with yumming and humming like there is no tomorrow—does make me feel much better…for a very short while that is. After my religious-like experience with food, I am back to crying for having indulged yet again.
I tell myself that I can stop; I can do this; but always leaving it for tomorrow!
Memories; Food for my soul
Friday, November 16, 1981 I sampled my very first meal cooked for me by a date, by my very own Knight!
He greeted me at the door wearing a smile. His 6 feet, slender frame scanned the whole of me, and his smile broadened. I’m guessing he liked what he saw! I know I did! He hugged me with warm familiarity, although kissed me with shy reserve. I could have kissed him with full abandon!
Just a few days before, after seeing a movie at my parents’ house—San Francisco, with Clark Gable and Jeanette MacDonald, a 1936 film based on the 1906 San Francisco earthquake—we’d kissed goodnight at the door. At first, there was dead silence for the longest awkward moments, each one waiting for the other to make a move. Something needed to happen. And it did. He leaned in close, waiting for approval, and when I didn’t withdraw he bent to kiss me. I melted. My heart melted. My brain melted. It was to be the best melt-down I’d ever have.
Inside, I took-in the sweet aroma of butter, potatoes and thyme sautéing. Dinner also included grilled New York steaks—marinated in soy sauce, salt and pepper, and just a sprinkle of nutmeg—his signature meal, he proudly boasted.
I hated New York steaks…steaks of any kind! I loved hamburgers; I liked meatloaf; but steaks…? I was dreading the moment.
But my worry was for naught. The potatoes were cooked to a crispy, golden-buttery delight, and the New York steak, though simple yet far from modest, was fabulous! This was the night; it marked the moment of my future, of soon saying goodbye, forever, to my sleek 125 pounds!