I love working out. In my case, I love playing racquetball until I drop, or for 90 minutes, whichever comes first. Forget losing weight, dropping a dress size, or looking toned. Sure, I could get that when I was young, but now I'm older and it takes twice as much work to get half the result.
I'm 50 years old. I've been playing racquetball damn near every day for about six years. Before that I was a waitress for 25 years. During that time I raised three kids. I had a good body with killer legs because my job kept me on my feet and I took every chance to do outdoor stuff with my kids – walks, swims, playground play, you name it.
Then I turned 42 and moved away from a good job and did a lot of sitting around because I could and because I really needed the break, but the break very quickly became a lifestyle. I didn't like the weight I'd put on. My knees hurt and I was starting to get sad and angry for no apparent reason. So I started playing racquetball because it's a sport I've loved since childhood and I have a couple of willing partners. At first I was slow and clumsy, but a few months later I was killin' it. I can't wipe the floor with the best of them, but I can certainly manage some significant sweeping.
I haven't lost any weight or inches around my waist. I've been eating really well for years – lots of fruits and vegetables and no junk. The weight just won't come off and the doctors keep telling me it's because of perimenopause. I've been tested for all manner of causes, only to be told by my doctor that I'm perfectly healthy.
Then I get to the Wellness Center where they tell me I'm decidedly unhealthy. According to all their weights, measurements, graphs, and pie charts, I'm obese at 201 pounds on a 5'7" frame – a weight and height I've been for the last six years despite my regimen. Their explanation for my "condition"? I'm lying.
That's not what they say, but that's damn sure what they mean when they look at me and then look at each other as if I'm stashing cupcakes in my back pocket and they'd find them if they frisked me. I already eat what they suggest in the amounts they recommend. I already avoid the foods on their kindergarten-esque "no-no" list. I exceed the days/hours they say I should be active every week. Maybe it is perimenopause; maybe it isn't. I don't care anymore because I've accepted that I'm one of those people for whom losing weight isn't a realistic goal.