It has been 12 days without social media, and after experiencing a wonderful disconnect, I found myself doomscrolling legitimate news channels. No matter what I do, the media on my screens steals my time.
Like a thief in the night, I did not realize everything was gone until I opened my jewelry box and all the treasures were missing. Clarity was replaced with brain fog. My calm was switched out for chaos.
What I gained after the past few days of doom distractions was information that would not matter in 5 years, like why Ben Affleck was kicked off Instagram two times. Why did I need to scroll through that “news” story instead of doing some yoga, reading my book or cleaning my house? I also learned a lot about politics, business and lost some of myself in the process.
Yesterday, I disconnected with a long hike, good people and beautiful views. I did take some photos but it was not for Meta. It was just a great day and I want to remember it. I was watching rocks instead of finding out what Ben Affleck was doing with Instagram.
Just like that, my heirlooms were back. I feel more at peace and can see again, literally and figuratively. I liken the experience to wearing my prescribed corrective lenses. Since high school, I cannot legally drive without them, and when I peered through the oculars on the vision machine at 18, I remember asking the proctor at the DMV which language was the exam in. I could not imagine that it was a proper English alphabet that I was seeing, but with my glasses I recognized every letter. That is what it feels like to feel better. I can see again.
This process for change is never a straight line and I will continue to be patient with myself.
What I know right now:
I am calmer today.
Yesterday was amazing.
I am grateful my body allowed me to reconnect with nature.
I tried to be consistent and write a post yesterday, but just went to bed instead. It was a long day of living and had no desire to do anything but be in the moment.
I am having no regrets about giving up social media, but for the past few days, I have had the most vivid dreams. I am wondering if my subconscious is taunting me with the need to share in my dreams. Bob Kraft died and Matt Damon and Ben Affleck asked me to join them for their next project. I just had to be in the moment and take no photos.
Back to the real flex…last night was over 8 hours of sleep and according to Professor Apple Watch I scored 99. The only thing not perfect was interruptions with a score 19/20. I am working on my desire to not impress my watch but not today.
Yesterday, my body was so quiet and I took advantage of a bluebird day with this broken body. I hiked Mt Crawford at the peak of foliage for the best day of color we have seen in years.
I looked strong and I am seeing my muscles pop from my boring training plan. On the way down when things were working I was grateful for my shift in workouts over the past two weeks. My feet did some amazing things and my weak left leg did the job. No need for poles doing some steep challenging terrain. The trees were quiet on this path but silently stunning.
I am noticing that the scale keeps moving up(I fought the desire to write “in the wrong direction”) and I am learning not to care about weighing 157 pounds this morning. I need to fuel this body for this life and not be worried about being skinny. I am trying to remember that bones and muscle show up on the scale.
I ate a lot of carbs yesterday and it’s working…so here is to carbs and more weight on the scale. Lets see where this journey takes me.
I am on Day Two without any social media and continue to delete every app on my phone that buzzes me. My wrist has become so quiet which might be one of the reasons I slept so well last night.
Surprisingly, I think Reddit was the biggest offender.
I reread my blog post yesterday and found some grammatical errors. I am curious if my writing will improve when I get more disconnected from the media. I am seeing the beauty in my mistakes, because in this climate of auto correct and too many filters, I might have forgotten who I am.
I woke up and confirmed with my watch that my sleep score was exceptional. I scored a 96 according to Professor Apple Watch. I only lagged in duration with a 47/50 and interruption was a solid 19/20. My bedtime was a perfect 20/20.
I am not willing to become 100% technology free, but I am excited to see where I land on this journey. Maybe I will graduate from Apple Watch Health App and start an Independent Study Course for this unpredictable body. But for now, I am celebrating a decent night of sleep which I did not expect at 53. Sleep has always been my biggest obstacle.
I have noticed more time in my schedule, and it has gone into cleaning my house.
So here is to another new day of choosing messy over perfection. It has translated into a more relaxed wardrobe and, so far, a little more clarity. Similar to my house, it is not perfect, but fewer dirty dishes lingered in the sink today and the bed is made.
I ran today with a lot of pain, but was not as annoyed with my broken body. I think the pain is getting a little better as I argue with my joints and brain. It is clear my body needs a shift. My ankle and feet have been killing me as I argue with my MS. My body wants to move one way but my body needs to move a different way if I want to keep running and hiking. The constant tug of war has led to some loud arguments.
Then I swam in the lake for maybe the last time of the season and loved it after I got over how cold it was. It helps to remind me that people pay money for ice baths, and I can have a similar experience for free,
It is nice to not be worried about photos for social media and wondering what people might think or who I might offend. I am focused on my inner circle and being more thoughtful about those people.
The people who I really care about and want to see every one of their photos. The people who know the good, bad and ugly about me and keep showing up. I also know the same about them.
Today, I officially signed up for the Paris Marathon. It might have been good for social media, but I don’t care. I just want to see Paris on my feet and this broken body. I am not sure if it is my future, but I have a date with Paris in April next year. I made a $215 financial commitment to do my best to be there.
Ever since my first diagnosis, planning for a pain free mobile future has terrified me. I am learning to face my fears and see where life takes me. It wont hurt me to train for the future even if it still terrifies me. It started by walking on a new Adventure Trail tonight and I loved every second as I mentally prepared for training while listening to the trees. I swear there are sections where they are so loud.
Last year, on my birthday, I colored my hair for the last time.
Not because gray hair matters. But because something stopped making sense.
I was listening closely to my body when it came to food, sleep, stress, recovery, training, gut health, and hormones. I was careful and disciplined. And yet, when it came to how I looked, I was doing the opposite. Sitting longer than recommended in a chair. Letting chemicals soak into my scalp so my white roots wouldn’t show. Ignoring the same body I claimed to respect everywhere else.
That disconnect mattered.
So for my 52nd birthday, I gave myself a gift. I stopped coloring my hair and agreed to sit in the discomfort. I promised I wouldn’t hide any part of this transition.
Not the gray roots. Not the bloated belly that shows up sometimes. Not the tight jeans. Not the poor sleep that comes from under-fueling and paying for it later.
And not the truth that multiple things can exist at once.
I can look incredible in a little black dress and two days earlier feel bloated and uncomfortable. I can feel strong and grounded and still have my body respond when my period shows up and everything shifts. That isn’t failure. That’s physiology.
I wasn’t going to curate this into something cleaner or more linear than it is.
Because longevity isn’t polished. It’s lived.
When You Stop Hiding, You Get Seen
What I didn’t fully appreciate was how visible that decision would make me.
When you live out loud and stop hiding, people notice. And with visibility comes commentary. Opinions. Projections. Sometimes thoughtful. Sometimes careless. Sometimes just a single word with no explanation.
That’s part of the deal.
Longevity training has taught me that being alive invites judgment — not because you’re doing something wrong, but because you’re doing something real.
Over the past year, I’ve heard opinions about my hair, my body, my intensity, my work. I’ve been told to transition slowly. To keep coloring. To shave my head. To cut it short because I “have the bone structure.” I’ve been told I’m too skinny. Too intense. Too much. Not credible.
I’ve even been called a scammer. In all caps. With no curiosity. No context.
And despite decades in this industry and real results, I still hear the voice in my head that says: you’re fat.
That isn’t weakness. That’s conditioning.
The Auntie
Self-doubt didn’t start online.
It started with the first auntie who hugged me and told my mother she needed to “do something about this,” while grabbing my waist. So when doctors later told me to lose weight, it felt familiar. Praise and criticism lived in the same place in my body. Approval and shame tangled early.
Today, we understand that grabbing someone’s body and commenting on it crosses a line. And yet social media has created a loophole — a socially approved version of the unsolicited comment.
The modern auntie.
Sometimes it’s framed as concern. Sometimes as advice. Sometimes it’s just mean. Either way, it usually says more about the person offering it than the person receiving it.
Once I saw that, things got easier.
Recently, a family member expressed concern that one of my photos wasn’t “professional enough” because there was a little nipple exposure. I laughed. Genuinely. I wasn’t embarrassed. I didn’t explain or fix anything.
I didn’t give a fuck.
Another time, someone told me I shouldn’t let my hair keep growing out because it “looked so good” when it was short and gray. I understood what they meant. They liked it that way. It felt familiar.
But I didn’t do this to land on a version of myself that made other people comfortable. I did it to see what it felt like to keep going — to live inside my own choices instead of stopping where others felt reassured.
And when I catch that old voice in the mirror — you’re fat — I recognize it instantly. I know where it came from. I say, I heard you, auntie. And then I move on.
Not because I don’t care or their opinion has no value. But because I’m good with my choices.
That’s the shift.
Not the absence of commentary, but the absence of obligation to respond to it. Recognizing that this might be their thing — not mine.
Listening Instead of Fighting
What this year taught me wasn’t how to override my body — it was how to listen to it.
Yes, there were years when my body felt like it betrayed me. Pain. Weight changes. Autoimmune diagnoses. Hormonal chaos. But part of that story was also me ignoring it. Pushing through signals. Expecting performance without listening.
So who was betraying who?
I stopped fighting.
I started paying attention — to what it needed, what it was asking for, and when it needed less pressure, not more.
That didn’t make my body easy or predictable. It made the relationship more honest. Less adversarial. Less about control and more about trust.
Longevity, for me, has been about rebuilding that relationship. Not perfection. Not blind obedience. Just mutual respect.
Being Seen Without Explaining Yourself
What makes me me are the imperfections. The laugh lines. The stress vein that pops out of my head. The silver that was hidden for years.
Sometimes that means reintroducing myself to people who don’t recognize me anymore.
That’s okay.
Because what I’ve gained is more valuable than being familiar or palatable.
It’s liberating to be authentic. To stop editing yourself for comfort. To let your body and choices reflect a life that’s actually being lived.
I’m no longer trying to be acceptable. I’m visible.
And once you live this way, you’re not easily forgotten.
The Long Game
Longevity training isn’t flashy.
It’s boring habits done consistently. It’s restraint. Discernment. Boundaries. It’s choosing a body that feels good over one that just looks acceptable. A life that actually works over one that needs approval.
This doesn’t mean certainty.
I still doubt myself. I still question how things will land. I still feel uncomfortable sometimes.
But I don’t fight it. I don’t explain myself. I don’t correct someone else’s story.
I check in with myself.
Do I feel strong. Do I sleep well. Do I recognize myself in my own life.
The first time I got real hate on social media, I wasn’t even trying to make a big statement. I had simply posted about my journey — what I had learned after 25 years in the wellness industry, after finally figuring out how to truly listen to my body instead of fighting it.
But then the comment came: “Even skinny people get belly fat. It’s called menopause.”
At first, I didn’t even know what to say. Because what they thought they were seeing — and what I was actually sharing — were two completely different things.
I wasn’t posting about being skinny. I wasn’t pretending menopause doesn’t change your body. I wasn’t showing off or flexing some transformation.
I was sharing something much deeper: That after decades of doing “everything right” — lifting weights, running, eating clean — my body was still changing, and the answers I kept getting from doctors, trainers, and even other women were the same:
“That’s just menopause.” “That’s just aging.” “You have to accept it.”
But something inside me refused to believe that the only answer was giving up.
I didn’t set out to be skinny. I set out to understand what was actually happening in my body.
When I got that comment, I read it out loud to my daughter. Without missing a beat, she smirked and said, “Well, Mom, I guess you’re officially a skinny bitch now.”
We both laughed. Because if you know me, you know how far from that stereotype I am.
I’m not surviving on three almonds and a side of rage. I’m not obsessed with scales or chasing a younger version of myself.
If I haven’t eaten four full meals by two o’clock, believe me — everyone knows it.
Real meals. Real food. Real energy. Omelets packed with vegetables. Thick sourdough with peanut butter. Oatmeal drowned in whole milk, bananas, and berries. Turkey burgers the size of my head. Cottage cheese and apples when I need to stay steady between meals.
I’m not hungry. I’m not angry. I’m not surviving.
I’m living. Fueled. Full. And finally free.
This didn’t happen overnight. It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t some magic diet or a miracle supplement.
It was years of paying attention. It was deciding that I didn’t have to accept fatigue, pain, and swelling as inevitable. It was rebuilding my habits from the inside out — slowly, imperfectly, consistently.
And yes — sometimes depending on the lighting, the angle, the split-second a photo is taken — I still see my old insecurities. The back fat. The soft spots. The reminders of a body that lived through real life.
But now? I also see someone stronger than I ever imagined. Someone who didn’t give up when the world said it was too late.
This journey was never about “beating” menopause. It was about understanding it.
It was about giving my body what it needed to thrive in this new season — not punishing it for changing.
I didn’t lose belly fat because I hated my body. I lost it because I finally respected it.
So for anyone who still thinks this was about vanity, or trying to pretend aging doesn’t happen: You missed it.
This is about living fully. Fueling properly. Moving with purpose. Resting when needed. Respecting the chapter I’m in — and loving it enough to stay in the fight.
If that makes me a skinny bitch at 52, so be it. I earned every inch of this life. And we’re just getting started.
Post Conclusion for Sharing:
*Not everything you see on social media tells the full story.
As I embrace my natural grey, I’ve been overwhelmed by the positive response from the women in my life. It feels like a celebration of confidence, authenticity, and aging on our own terms. When I shared this growth with my mom—the woman who has rocked her grey for most of my life, much to the dismay of her older sister—her response was unexpected.
She looked at me, smiled, and asked, “What does your husband think?”
Without hesitation, I answered, “Why does it matter? He’s incredibly lucky to have landed me, no matter what my hair color is.” And that’s not a jab at my husband—he’s fabulous. I just know my worth, and I’m well aware that his good fortune has nothing to do with the shade of my hair.
My mother, never one to miss a beat, responded with her signature sly grin and told me a story about when she first cut her hair short. My dad took one look at her and asked if she was “changing genders.” Her response? She never grew it out again. She wore her short hair proudly, proving that no one—not even her husband—would dictate how she presented herself.
That moment made me realize something: influences have always been around. Long before social media, before beauty trends dictated by algorithms, and before a boardroom full of men decided what’s “in,” my mother was my greatest influence.
If someone at school wasn’t nice to me? She’d tell me they were just jealous of my big, beautiful eyes. If I worked hard on something and didn’t get the grade I wanted? The teacher clearly didn’t understand what made me amazing. But if I didn’t put in the effort? She was the first to call me out on it.
When I stepped out in my junior prom dress, wondering if I needed a bra, she glanced at me and said, “Bandaids will do.” And to this day, I’m still bra-free most days, letting the ladies live in freedom.
When I wanted to dye my hair in high school, she shut it down. While she was paying my bills, she wasn’t going to support any unnecessary alterations to my appearance. She had no problem walking into my elementary school and warning the principal that if anyone messed with my self-esteem, she would sue. At the time, I was mortified.
Now? I get it.
I look in the mirror, and the unwavering confidence that so many people comment on? It started with her.
She taught me how to slay.
How to cut someone down with a glance.
How to walk into a room knowing exactly who I am.
And I hope I can pass that on. I hope my daughters recognize that we define what is beautiful. That they never let anyone else dictate their worth. And to my stunning mother—who wears whatever she damn well pleases, regardless of the dress code—thank you.
Thank you for being my first influencer before social media, before the beauty industry, before a bunch of executives decided to tell women what is “acceptable.”
You were louder than all of them.
And I was listening.
Good news—you won’t have to sue Estabrook Elementary. My confidence is still very much intact.
Check out my new YouTube channel, Thrive Beyond Diagnosis, where I’ll be sharing more about my journey to feeling amazing at any age—no matter the diagnosis!
This is a glimpse into 11 years of my journey with MS.
Aging alongside MS has presented its challenges, but it has also given me the opportunity to approach aging with a touch of grace. Reflecting on the past 11 years, I’ve encountered moments of fear, harnessed strength, and embraced vulnerability while navigating this condition. Observing other women my age who live with MS, confidently using their canes and relying on their support networks, fills me with inspiration, even though it underscores the uncertainty that lies ahead.
The nature of MS can be particularly unpredictable, with symptoms emerging unexpectedly, and it’s a reminder that even with all the right steps, the impact can still be profound.
I’m pleased to share that I recently had a positive appointment with my doctor, and I recognize that this outcome is a blend of both fortunate circumstances and diligent effort. Perhaps a little more luck than effort, truth be told.
To celebrate, I engaged in a workout session and some rejuvenating yoga. I’m grateful to have a profession that allows me to delve into the evolving landscape of wellness science. I also extend my gratitude towards the Empower Fitness program, which has contributed to an improved sense of well-being. While I acknowledge that perfection is elusive, especially considering I’m a 50-year-old grappling with MS, lupus, and unpredictable hormonal changes, I find solace in the progress I’ve made.
My ongoing goal of shedding those stubborn 6 pounds persists, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the positive changes my body has experienced through this new program. Witnessing similar transformations in the fellow participants who have been testing it for the past three weeks fills me with enthusiasm. Now, together, our focus shifts towards embracing the aging process like a well-aged bottle of wine. We anticipate change and, hopefully, an enhancement of our well-being as time unfolds. #thisis50#livingwithms#AgingGracefully
“Just go breathe”, thanks Captain Obvious, do you really think some meditation will help with my stress? During 2020, I woke up every morning with a plan to focus on healthy habits, but after a couple emails or news alerts the meditation minutes became an opportunity to repeat obscenities.
Just like many people, COVID has taken a toll on my mental health and physical health. The past couple of months were a tipping point for my stress, and getting the advice to just meditate and breathe was like a turn on switch for my stress. I am unique, stress is subjective and what works for one person might not work for me.
Last year I was running a 50 Mile Ultra Marathon on the 8th anniversary of MS diagnosis, and this year I was spending time in multiple doctors’ offices trying to figure out how to walk again. It has been a long slow painful road to getting my legs back this year and rediscovering a new path to a healthy lifestyle was more challenging than training for a 50 Miler.
Completing a marathon or ultra marathon is wonderful, but it’s a selfish gift to myself. Living with a chronic disease is my real greatest accomplishment, and not finding the healthiest version of me has a domino effect on everything that I love. If I can’t get out of bed, my family suffers. If a flare up is serious, I can’t work. Living with a chronic disease is basically walking around with a ticking time bomb. Honestly, everyone’s health is a ticking time bomb, but people living with chronic disease are just more aware of their delicate fuse.
How did I fall so fast? A healthy body is not a guarantee, and finding a way to navigate is the key to staying healthy. What worked in 2013 isn’t going to work in 2020, and daily reminders that it wasn’t working were only making it worse.
The good news is that I am feeling better, and have found a way to stay accountable to my body. My MRI is scheduled for January and I am staying on plan for the remainder of 2020.
Here’s my survival kit for the remainder of 2020 :
Acceptance
I stopped waiting to see the light at the end of the tunnel and just adjusted to living in the tunnel. This might sound negative, but for anyone who has had a difficult road gets this. Stressors are not going to magically disappear at a convenient timeline to manage my health. I need to manage my health first and adjust my eyes to the dark tunnel. I won’t be angry when I am reminded of a time that I was faster, fitter, and happier. I will celebrate the journey and embrace the change. I will be the best me, today.
Goals
The concept of setting goals did not change in 2020. When I made the decision to manage my health, lifestyle setting goals were key, but I had more bandwidth to be intense when I first started setting them. Now the goals look very different. I am not as restrictive with my plan. I celebrate a little more frequently, and have lowered the bar without compromising the results.
My Community
Meeting a friend for a cup of tea at a cafe and laughing until we were kicked out was one of those pre-COVID activities I miss the most. Things have changed, but this is an opportunity to learn and grow from the people in my life. One of my favorite “new experiences” was a Kundalini Yoga class I joined during this unprecedented time. I am excited to grow my remote world and try new things.
I have also embraced my old community. I have been quarantined with my husband at it’s like we’re 18 again when we first met. In the beginning of our relationship we played Tavli (Backgammon) for hours, like Greek sailors. Now, the board is out, and I am much better. I am excited to play together at home and eventually on the beaches of Greece.
Planning for after COVID
The pandemic will end and I will be ready. I am researching trips and new experiences that will be around in 2021. Things will be different, I will be different, but that difference is nothing but exciting. I am not going to be sad for what I have lost in the past year, but I am going to be hopeful because of how much I learned.
I am confident that the next time I get on an airplane I won’t complain about the dinner being served, the leg room, or the movie options. I will only be excited about the destination and the people in my life. Being different is a gift.
Ask for help
My middle name should be TMI. I have no filter and am completely transparent. It was a trait that developed twofold after I embraced my MS diagnosis. I discovered that pretending my life was perfect lead to more stress. The people who run away from the rawest version of me are not the people I want in my life. I am not needy, but I will look for any guidance and growth from anyone. I am a student of life and that means my teachers are everyone and every where.
Be ready to pivot
If the same actions are not working be ready to be different. I have learned that complacency is a cinder block tied to my waist when I am trying to swim. I will always be ready to pivot and grow during this crazy time. That does not mean closing doors, but finding new ways to open them. Life is too short to be angry.
Letting go of anger
This one is tough and doesn’t happen overnight. I am not a master of this skill, but I consider it a work in progress. I aspire to be a little better each day, and if I focus on everything other than my anger this will naturally follow.
Everyone needs to find their own way to manage their inner ticking time bomb. Embrace today as a gift that can all be an opportunity to celebrate the simple things in life. Going for a run and having a stranger start a conversation because he likes my shirt is a small gift. Decorating a Christmas tree with my three adult daughters was a special moment. Taking a nap in a warm cozy bed on a rainy day is wonderful.
Things are different and that will best thing that comes out of 2020.
Reboot, reset, or jumpstart call it whatever you want it, it is a challenge to change a lifestyle.
After my MS diagnosis on 11/11/11, I have been rebooting my lifestyle on a semi-regular basis. Managing MS and lupus without utilizing any pharmaceutical options requires discipline and focus.
November 11th is a reminder of the beginning of a very long journey to good health. Last year, I celebrated the anniversary of 11/11 with a 50 mile Ultra Marathon. This year, I can’t run more than a mile pain-free. My body is betraying me and I was not in the mood to celebrate the anniversary 11/11 this year.
In 2020, for the first time in 9 years, I cancelled a training class because of the symptoms associated with my chronic diseases. Historically, I work through the pain. I did not cancel a class when I was suffering vertigo, I warned my clients that I might tip over, but I taught the class. When a MS hug constricted my breathing, I taught spin class.
A historic pandemic, that targets a weak immune system and small businesses, is a tsunami of stress directed at my small, unprotected island. Coaching health and wellness doesn’t protect me from life. Let’s just say I got caught in a tsunami, and it wasn’t easy to get out.
I made the decision a few months ago to begin another lifestyle reboot. I am a work in progress which means I am always working to make progress. In the beginning of my challenge, I couldn’t sleep 8 hours at night or walk more than a mile without pain. Bed rest and exercise weren’t healing me. Now I am sleeping through the night, unless a stressful situation keeps me up. I am walking, but not running.
I am joining my clients for this six week Fall Reboot. Let’s get healthier together.
What are my goals?
More Hiking
Before the pain started, hiking was an opportunity to feed my competitive spirit. I heard about the NH48, a hiking patch for hiking all 48 of the New Hampshire 4,000 Footers, and I was taking it to the next level. I was on track to bag all the summits before my 49th birthday, until pain derailed my plans. My first solo hike, after weeks of debilitating pain, was something special. Now, I schedule my week around the weather and shut off my phone for those miles on the mountain. I am finding a new level of peace in the woods.
Be a good example for my clients
I have a hard time understanding coaches who don’t walk the walk as they talk the talk. If the challenge is too difficult for me to manage with my busy schedule, how can I properly coach people? I am coaching myself for the next weeks and holding myself accountable to the challenge and my clients.
Be patient
A healthy lifestyle is never about a quick fix. Patience is not by any means my strongest trait, but I am excited for growth during this Fall Reboot. I am working on balancing intensity with calm.
“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
I will not be perfect for six weeks, but I will be different, because the same is not working.
I am posting my before picture because it represents a time in my life when I was deep in the weeds of life. I had lost my dad to complications related to his diabetes, I was helping two daughters with the college process and I was recently diagnosed with MS.
I had all the excuses to quit on my nutrition and just buy some better clothes to hide my choices. Instead, I made an agreement that I would be better, faster and stronger at my oldest daughters graduation from college in 4 years. I learned to focus less on the after photo and focus on showing up for the milestones. Milestones are the greatest gifts to anyone living with chronic disease.
I went public with my journey and invited friends and clients to join me. I had some bad weeks and some phenomenal weeks along the way, but those bad weeks were just learning opportunities. I did get better with time and with every obstacle I faced.
My daughter graduated last weekend and I hit my goal. I sprinted every hill in Ithaca.
I have been in this business for years and discovered the after photo makes people sick. Any stylist can make Oprah beautiful and that has nothing to do with good health.
A true transformation is focused on getting healthy and staying healthy. The waistline is the best measurement of health and wellness. Visceral fat(the fat around the waist) is the bodies way of saying that something needs to change.
The choices that we make today will be more powerful than any pill in the future. My favorite part of my job is getting calls from my clients on the way home from their physician. I get a lot of those phone calls. Those phone calls make me think of my dad.
I was a teenager when my dad came home with a “miracle pill” called Actos. He struggled with diabetes after living in this country. Living on an island in Greece was great but the US diet impacted his health.
For most of my life, I remember how careful he was with his diet. He listened to his doctors when they told him to eliminate sugar, but artificial sweeteners were fair game. He drank Tab and eventually Diet Coke like I drink water. He carried Sweet n Low and eventually Splenda for his coffee in his wallet. He was careful with his health.
I lost my dad 4 years ago to bladder cancer. During his diagnoses, there were multiple commercials on TV about joining the class action suit against his miracle pill. He used to watch a lot of TV when he was recovering from his grueling chemo treatments and joined the class action suit.
I am passionate about everyone finding a healthy lifestyle because my dad would have been at my daughters’ graduation if someone had forced him to change in his 30’s or 40’s or 50’s or 60’s. There is no magic pill for anyone. A healthy lifestyle requires being consistent.
Success with a healthy lifestyle is a marathon. Find the right program for your family. You can see with my weigh-ins that this marathon never ends. Success is about trending in the right direction.
I would not be here without those challenging days. Set a goal and realize that it will take time and patience. I would not have reached this goal without the support of my community. Encourage your family and friends to join you in January.
