Back in January 2015 Loretta and I joined the gym and forked out some serious cash on a personal trainer for 9 months. Enter Personal Trainer, Tom. Tom was awesome. He didn't judge me or Loretta. He was all for the breakup though. He could see how Loretta would take over. She was always in the way and did her level best to make every exercise as difficult as possible. She wanted me to quit, but I did not.
Tom taught me about lifting, which I've grown to love. Bench press, deadlift, and squats with the barbell. Loretta and I got into some dumbbell exercises as well. Tom had us sweating and feeling super about it. My A1c went from 8.9 on 1-30-15 to 6.3 on 4-27-15. At the end of the 9 months with Tom I had dropped 47 pounds and quite a few inches, but you know who was still lurking. Although she wasn't quite as big as when I started, she still maintained a pretty impressive existence. She's one tough broad!
While training with Tom he suggested I cut my carbs and increase my protein considerably. I really dogged on some proteins and was having about 60-70 carbs a day. This combination helped me to drop the A1c. Even my medical doctor was impressed. I'm, however, not impressed with my medical doctor. I don't think she's all that smart and she aggravates the hell out of me with the way she 'cares' for me. I have little confidence or respect for much of the medical community. I despise the insurance industry. I've yet to find a medical doctor I can really work with. So, I'm just biding my time with this gal. I am working toward the day I can walk into her office and tell her to kiss my ass! Anyway, I'm not here to bad-mouth my doctor. She has no real part in any of this.
Let's get back to me and Loretta. So, during the course of the last 2 years and following the 9 months of training, I gradually added back some carbs into my diet. I've stayed away from the white stuff, you know, bread, pasta, flour, rice, all of that crap. I found that I gained some pounds back but my A1c remained in check. Gotta feel good about that.
So here I am in 2017, the year I will turn 59 fucking years old. Loretta continues to 'hang on' to the relationship. I'm still determined to get her out of my life, out of my bed, out of my clothes. Loretta, Loretta, oh, how you sicken me!