Creeping
normality is a phrase coined by American scientist, Jared Diamond. It refers to the way a change is accepted as
the normal situation if it happens slowly over time. If the same change occurred quickly, we may
find the change unacceptable.
A
good example of this phenomenon is that I gained approximately five pounds a
year for 15 years.
Five
pounds doesn’t seem like much, but multiply that over many years and it
certainly becomes obvious. It was
causing my body to age far faster than my mental faculties. I couldn’t step up on a chair. I couldn’t squat down and pick something up
without getting help back up. I was
winded after the slightest exertion. Sleeping?
Forget it. Between
gastrointestinal discomfort and menopausal night sweats, a good night of sleep
did not follow my husband’s goodnight kiss.
I
tried many weight loss programs over the years.
Some were successful in the short term, but most often I lost more money
than pounds. If it had a gimmick, I was
willing to try. I tried low-carb,
no-carb, bought the special food, vegetarian.
Sometimes I’d lose, but only to gain it back again.
In
the spring of 2008, I was sitting in my doctor’s office as she prepared to
write a prescription to treat another of the maladies I suffered as a result of
my weight. I was already being treated
for three other ailments related my excess poundage. She shook her head sadly and almost like
pronouncing a death sentence she said, “You know, if you would just lose
weight, you could be a healthy person. You’re
not getting any younger, and with your family history, it’s only a matter of
time.”
What
do you mean, “a matter of time”? Time until what? Was time running out for me?
This
was the year I would turn 58. My mother
died at the age of 58, and my father suffered three heart attacks at the age of
58, finally succumbing to heart disease at the age of 62. They both had three things in common:
overweight, inactivity, and smoking.
To
my credit, I had succeeded in shaking the smoking habit, but definitely was
guilty of inactivity and being overweight. Yet here I was, at the same age of
my mother’s death and I was in denial.
In
that moment, I said to my doctor, “I’ll make a deal with you. If you don’t make me take more medicine, I
promise, within 60 days I will whip myself into shape.” The doctor smiled indulgently and we shook
hands on my proposal.
That
very day, I committed myself to two things: to walk five miles a day, and to
lose weight. I know that sounds extreme,
but in our rural farm location, five miles was the size of my “block”, so once
I left the front door, it was five miles back around again.
It
was summertime, and moving my overweight body in the heat was sometimes
torture. There were walks when my feet would
be so swollen, I’d have to untie my shoes to relieve the pressure. But I kept at it.
The
same week I started walking, I joined a weight loss program that encouraged
smart lifestyle choices and habits. I had tried the program before, with little
success. Honestly, it was because the
first time I was being a weight-loss “pretender”. With friends, I would demure the high-fat
appetizers because I was “dieting”.
Secretly, I was eating peanut candy out of a 3-pound bag in my car.
This
time I had determination and the promise to my doctor on my side. I attended the weight-loss meetings and
played it straight. I learned that a
serving of mashed potatoes was not half a plate, and it wasn’t always how much
I was eating, but making smart choices with what I did eat. With perseverance and the changes I made in
my eating habits, I started to notice subtle changes. As the pounds came off, my agility and energy
went up.
Could
this be my creeping normality working in reverse?
As
promised, I returned to the doctor at the end of the 60 days, and was thrilled to
find that I lost almost 20 pounds. I was
still committed to the five miles a day, but now I was running part of those
miles. The doctor was so pleased with my
progress that she began to wean me off the blood pressure medicine I had taken
for more than ten years.
Time
moved on and I stayed true to my word, eventually losing almost 50 pounds. Ultimately, three years later, at the age of
61, I won my first 5K race in my age group.
Here today, in the year I turn 65, I am still active and at a great
weight. I am healthier at age 65 than I
was when I was 45.
The
thing that has meant the most to me is the realization that weight loss is more
than just poundage or a dress size. It
is also a commitment to your family and those you love.
My
parents have been gone for more than 30 years, but I am still acutely aware of
how much they have missed. They didn’t
see the grandchildren grow up or great-grandchildren. They didn’t see my career successes, or share
the excitement of my world-wide travels and experiences. After all these years, I sometimes see
mothers and daughters shopping or lunching together, and tears will come to me
as I long for the relationship of family that was lost to me through their
early deaths. As much as I loved my parents, I wish they loved themselves
enough to take care of their own health and to be here for our family.
Your
good health is not just about you. It’s
about those you love and those who love you.
If
you think taking care of yourself is not important to your family, I say this:
take a clue from the flight attendant who demonstrates that you need to put the
oxygen mask on yourself first before assisting others.
If
you take care of yourself, you can better care for those you love. Your family will thank you.
