A long, hard look

     Playing the role of Supportive Partner Woman (lover of cinnamon-y donuts!) is something at which I very much want to be successful. I've written about it here before. But, as I am discovering, it's not the easiest project I've ever attacked.
     My dear SPM (walker of increasing increments!) is seriously into his weight loss process, as he needs to be. But I'm really beginning to grasp why spouses are so readily welcomed at all the appointments and the support group sessions. We need all the help we can get, too.
     Monday morning SPM had appointments with Ryan, the exercise physiologist, and Shauna, the dietician. Naturally, I went along. Everyone's thrilled with SPM's progress so far. He's down 12 pounds (they told him he needed to lose 10 before the surgery ... the surgery's still at least four months off) and has majorly improved his eating habits all on his own. They expect him to really take off now that he's going to start adding supervised, instructed exercise to his repertoire.
     But as they were asking him questions about diet and exercise and lifestyle, it really and truly hit home how much my own lifestyle must change as well.
     Like, completely.
     It dawned upon me that, gee, I really have to do this. The time for fooling around with the weight and the health has struck the witching hour.
     As SPM's shadow begins shrinking, there is nowhere else for me to hide. And, I can't lie ... that scares me.
     See, I've always been able to talk a great game. I'm fantastic about being an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, the friend who focuses on the other person to help solve their problems. But that's my game. I live to find projects, distractions. If I help you, I don't have to look at my own mess, which can be downright depressing. So, out of sight, out of mind.
     But now I can't do it anymore. Because realistically, not only is SPM's health at stake here, so's my own. Through SPM, I've been able to get a long, up-close look at some of what may await me if I keep going down the path I've been on. Sleep apnea or diabetes, perhaps. Throw in my own family history of high cholesterol and cardiac/vascular events, and I'm totally screwed.
    Talk about a deadline hanging over your head. A real, literal deadline.
    So, yeah. It's time to woman up.
    And guess what? SPM is hitting the bariatrics office's in-house gym at 10 a.m. At the same time, I'm planning to step foot into our local rec center for the first time in almost two years.
     I've already started to sweat.