The many and various ways I pass the time now has a new addition. Usually it involves drinking coffee whilst sitting at a computer keeping in touch with chums, or sipping wine sitting on our tiny terrace catching the sun, and wondering what else I can do to avoid any cleaning or tidying or putting away of stuff and things that aren't even MINE. And now I am going to type this blog. Provided that doesn't become a chore as well, in which case...

Friday, 12 August 2011

Laxity, laziness and lassitude

I have never been deeply in the grip of a Northern European Protestant Work Ethic, and have always tended to work hard only when madly enthused or hard up against it, "it" being a deadline, or serious lack of money.  I have had some magnificent enthusiasms in the past, and have decorated entire rooms (including making curtains and other soft furnishings) in a day or two, and started and run big musical organisations to bring opera and other classical music to towns which theretofore had had none. But that was then and this is now.  I was young then and knew no discouragement.  Now I am in the middle of my middle years and pretty much on the floor most days.

I have so little physical energy nowadays I am frequently defeated even before I start.  The house looks neglected because I have either enough oomph to shop for meals and cook OR tackle the dusting and vacuuming, either to load up the dishwasher and washing machine OR tidy the bedrooms.  I find myself looking at the prices of two-bedroomed flats locally because the four-bedroomed monster that growls at me on all sides is often more burden than refuge.  And this is just one of the houses on our books.  We also have a three-bedroomed house with front and back gardens to care for in mid-Wales.  Oh, how I pine for The Husband's retirement when we will be responsible for that house alone (and to boot, have only one lot of bills to find).

I think it's because as well as being older than I've ever been before I am also bigger - fatter  - than I've ever been before, and the excess poundage is slowing me down.  So every day I am aware that as well as the house being neglected my health isn't getting enough of the right sort of attention either.  The same goes for The Husband.  We are going through this together, both older than we've ever been before and more weighed down by our bodies than we have ever been before.  And we don't like it but we are a bit stumped how we are going to effect the changes we crave. 

I've Googled "losing weight after fifty" and there seems to be a consensus that gaining weight is something the 50+ body does to us "to protect our bones and organs" should we fall.  It's a padding of fat as a safety feature argument that seems potty to me as putting inches on around the middle is a common cause of Type Two Diabetes, which is very bad for a person.

It seems that I would find I have an appreciable lift in mood and energy levels if I were to take exercise at least three times a week.  I love to swim but hate the palaver of going to the public baths, the chlorine in the air, and faffing about in cubicles and putting clothes in lockers. We've just had a week in  Spain and I was in and out of the hotel pool like a gamboling otter.  I said to the husband, if you dig a big hole in the lawn when we get back, I'll tile it?  Howsabout it?

A (middle-aged and matronly) girl can dream, can't she?


  1. You have my sympathy, Baby Sis. I ballooned to over 15 stone at my highest (just before my second BC diagnosis 6 years ago when I was 59). However, it took the threat of having to go onto medication for borderline high BP to galvanise me into trying to lose some weight. It took me over 18 months to go down from 14.5 stone to 12.5 and I'm afraid extra exercise didn't come into the picture, just eating more carefully. However, as the weight gradually reduced I became more energetic without really realising it, which helped the weight loss, and I'm probably fitter and more energetic at 65 than I was at 55.

    I have a shrewd suspicion a bit of the lost weight is creeping back on again, but not enough to make me worry too much about it. Slow and steady is the key and a realistic acceptance that we will never be as slim as we once were. Good luck :-)

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  3. I feel very sluggish, and that isn't good, as it is adding to the problem. I am beginning my change in tactics by having a Proper Breakfast everyday (high-bran muesli with a sliced banana) and seeing if this will give me more energy to tackle more chores as the day pans out. I am aware that excess weight can produce more oestrogen, even after menopause, and with the type of tumours we had this is emphatically not to be desired.

    I am 12st llbs, at 5' 6". This gives me a BMI of 29 (overweight, but not quite obese, so some scant comfort to be had there). The Husband's is 33, which ostensibly categorises him as obese, but I think that fails to take account of how muscular he is in his back, shoulders and arms. Muscle weighs a lot more than flab. However he does have excess poundage around his middle. Even if we both shed as little as a stone we'd feel the difference.