The community of weight losers/dieters has its own lingo, and one of the terms frequently used is “NSV” for non-scale victory. As I continually state, my focus is on behavior around eating and physical activity (more about my thinking process later). Yesterday, however, I experienced a marvelous NSV, which almost made me cry – almost. I was able to wear my wedding ring for the first time in many years, and I don’t mean just squeeze it on for a few minutes but actually put it on for good.
My ring is unique, or at least it was designed just for me. For years I wore it, re-sized down for my big weight loss in ’91, then gradually stopped wearing it as I regained and relegated the symbol of our commitment to a special glass container within my jewelry box. Now it is mine again. Those of you who are married, imagine not being able to wear your ring for years. Those of you who aren’t married, imagine regaining a part of your body, a piece of your identity, reconnecting with a long-lost friend.
OK, before this turns into a “you-complete-me” kind of moment, here is a picture of my aging hand (aging more quickly from the Arizona dryness) proudly displaying the ring. The gem is iolite.
Feeling grand and connected with my body, I decided to try a gentle walk with my bum knee. I choose a path toward Sabino Creek near our home assuming the gravel would easier on my knee than asphalt. The creek still flows from the wet winter and mountain snow thaw. (Yes, Virginia, there is water on occasion in Tucson.)
We ambled along the path as the creek dropped farther below us. I so wanted to get closer to the water (cue ominous music). Several hundred yards later we could hear the water flowing over another small dam, and determined to get closer, I bushwhacked off the nice level path toward the babbling brook. Honestly, the rocks did not look that craggy (they weren’t), the pitch did not seem that steep (it wasn’t), and I felt very nimble (I’m not) – that was until my knee collapsed and 238 pounds of unbalanced, untoned me pitched forward toward cactus, stones, and mesquite trees. Throughout the slow motion fall, my brain screamed not to break anything. I managed to land most gracefully on a large rock, scrapping one-third of the skin off the top of my right hand a la 2nd degree burn injury, thorns stuck in my ass, with my lovely partner rushing to my prostrate form – to take a damn picture of my butt. Imagine my disgust as we walked/limped up the hill, me proudly trailing of blood, only to find a level path (complete with a mediation labyrinth courtesy of Canyon Ranch) from the path to the creek a mere 20 yards from where I had started my misadventure.
Today I am sore everywhere except my head – even my toenails hurt. My right knee is alas doomed to visit the orthopedic surgeon. BUT, my ring remains on my left hand.
We get up; we fall; we get up again. One day I will run. Well, maybe walk rapidly.