I gained weight. No two ways about it, since my husband’s death, I put on the pounds. There are several reasons and none of them help reverse the process.
Cooking for one is not the same as cooking for two. When Bru was alive, I strove to make good meals that covered the spectrum of healthy eating. Salads were normal fare as were a nice meat, and a starch. Occasional, but not constant desserts and iced tea filled in the remainder.
When he died, I learned to eat widow meals, consisting of sandwiches and chips or, on a real healthy day, canned soup. MacDonald’s with its over salted, mystery ingredients was easier than cooking. Grab a burger, fries and apple pie and I was good to go.
Watching my figure was the last thing on my mind. Unending paperwork filled my thoughts, twisting my days trying to get it completed. Anger, self-pity, and endless crying took up the rest of the black days following his death.
As the months passed, I barely noticed my clothing growing tighter. Who was planning to go out and paint the town anyway? When my hair got too long to bother with, I remembered to go to a cheap salon for a cut, but my clothing? It switched from well-fitting to stretch waistbands and loose tops. If they matched, it was purely coincidental.
My daughter and I moved, bought a house and remodeled it. Staying busy kept my mind off personal appearance. Then I woke up to rolls around the waist, hips big enough to block a barn door and the horrible knowledge that I was fat! Granted, I’ve never been tiny, but there’s a huge difference between size 14 and size 22. (No pun intended.)
My daughter lost weight through Jenny Craig. I tried it. No dice. Discovered I was fiercely allergic to one item in the foods. It literally gave me panic attacks.
The gym sounded like the answer and a new one moved close to us. Great! The fees almost broke me. Walking should have worked; it worked for my brother. He lost 35 pounds! It might have worked for me except my back, which has lived through seven car accidents, decided against it.
I am now at the point of making up a program specifically geared to me and my life. Of course, had I paid attention to things much earlier, the problem might have been solved sooner.
To all widows, please take care of yourselves. You do it when you are caring for your beloved, so you will be there for him or her. You must continue afterward to be there for yourself and the new life into which you have been pushed. When we gain weight, we are also opening the gate for illnesses those extra pounds make worse, like diabetes, heart problems, strokes and you do not want to go there. After all, none of us knows how long we have to live. The choice we have is whether to push toward health or illness. I am opting for health.