I had to start thinking about weight for the first time while I was pregnant. In my first trimester, I ate everything that came within reach. With both hands. Every calorie stuck. When my doctor started
I firmly believe my pregnancy weight gain was due to genetics. When my mother was pregnant with my sister, her doctor recommended she start smoking to curb her weight gain. No shit. The cigarettes didn't help her any more than my doctor's bitching helped me. We were genetically engineered to gain weight no matter what we did.
Fortunately, genetics worked in both directions. As soon as I expelled The Boy from my womb, I started losing all the weight I'd gained. That extra 70 pounds (yes you read that right---I gained 70 pounds to create a baby that weighed little over seven pounds) melted away in the same amount of time it took me to gain them: nine months. With a few notable, inevitable exceptions, things were mostly back to normal with my body.
Then somewhere in my late 30s, the shift began again. Sudden may not be the right word to describe the change, perhaps realization and acknowledgement is really what was sudden. Since then, I have had to be aware of my weight and how it relates to what I swallow. I find it rather irritating as self-discipline has never been my strongest suit.
I recently came across this equation. I don't recall exactly where. It was an article about body mass index and how to tell just how overweight one may or may not be. I can't resist a calculation, dontcha know. Here, you try it.
Divide your weight in pounds by your height in inches squared. Multiply the result by 704.5.
An index of less than 18.5 is underweight; 18.5 to 24.9 is normal; 25 to 29.9 is overweight; 30 to 39.9 is obese; 40 or more is severely obese.
So? Where do you fall?
I'll tell ya mine if you tell me yours.