Thanks to my 6-year-old granddaughter, Evie, I am eating food that's good for me, and I'm working out every day.
It's nothing I planned on doing, mind you. She unknowingly forced me into it. And it happened so innocently.
I had just returned from a two-week visit to San Diego, where I met my granddaughter, Charleana (sounds like Pollyanna), six hours after her birth. It was a joyous visit where I bonded with my new baby and also spent valuable time with my son and daughter-in-law. But I had to come home.
Saying goodbye to my little bundle of joy was hard, but coming home wasn't. I'm rarely away from my other grandchildren - Tilleigh, 10, Evie, 6, and William, 4, who live next door. It made leaving San Diego bearable. I missed the goofy little kids.
My grandkids breathe life into my existence. Hugs and kisses are abundant, and the joy - and occasional headaches - are ever present.
I was cuddling with Evie on the sofa in my living room when the life-changing moment happened. My grandkids are used to me kissing and hugging them at any given moment for no particular reason other than I adore them. Whenever they're at my house I always have at least one on my lap (including Tilleigh, who I'm conditioning to never stop no matter how old she is), and sometimes the others are fighting for a position there.
I'm tall and strong, but I'm about 20 pounds over my desired weight (my husband is an excellent cook. I totally blame him for my the weight gain) but, frankly, it doesn't bother me. Until Evie pointed something out. While I was snuggling with her, she squeezed the underarm area close to my armpit and said, "This feels like Play-Doh."
Play-Doh?
Brat.
My first thought was that at least she didn't say Jell-O. Still.
Of course, I was offended because we all know kids have no filter and they speak the truth. Again, Brat.
The thing is, I have skinny arms and legs. I really have no fat on those appendages, Mine, like many post-menopausal women (too much info?), settles around the center. So I was rather shocked when the little offender said Play-Doh.
While I do have skinny arms and there's no in-your-face evidence that the area is a little, well, Play-Doh-y, it's admittedly not firm like it was before I hit my mid-50s, but I am 64.
Evie, the brat, was speaking the truth. And it was up to me to do something about it.
The next day I went to the store, bought some weights, an exercising step and got to work. Two weeks later, I've lost more than 10 pounds and I already feel the muscles in my legs, arms and abdomen tightening. I've completely rehauled my diet by eating only foods that are good for me and snacks are minimal - mostly low-calorie fruit. I am rocking it.
I even got a little ego-booster the other day when Evie's mom, Kacee, and I were shopping at Lowe's. An employee came up to us and asked if we were sisters because we look so much alike. When Kacee told the employee I was the mom, she made such a big deal of it telling me how good I looked (Hello. I'll always shop at Lowe's from now on). While it may have been an insult to Kacee, I was beaming.
When I later told Evie that someone had asked if her mommy and I were sisters, Evie said. "No way. You're old."
Brat.
I did, though, get a reprieve from insults when she told me that Boo (my husband and her grandfather), had to be at least 100 years old (he's 67). She pegged me for about 80. I'll take what I can get.
Kids keep you on your toes and, most definitely, entertained. But my granddaughter's declaration has forced me to take a path that I had needed to take. And, just maybe, she'll recognize one day soon that the Play-Doh under my arms was left out too long and has hardened. At least I know she'll tell me the truth.
Contact Karen Nazor Hill at khill@timesfreepress.com.