230.

Because no new year is complete without a health-related resolution, my sister, my cousin, and I have made A Pact. We have Goals! We have Plans! We have Accountability! We have Rewards! We have Food/Exercise Journals and we have brand new pens with which to record our progress!

We are prepared. We are on track for success.

But who isn’t on January 3?

My previous weight-loss efforts were successful. I lost 50-something pounds and I haven’t gained any of it back for a couple of years now. I fluctuate in a range between 133 and 136 and, while I do believe my backside could be smaller, I can live with this weight. My body seems to like it here. Either that or years of having ‘135’ on my driver’s license when I was no such thing have convinced my body this is the Magic Number.

So, because I’m no longer as portly as I once was and because I can run several miles without dying and lift weights without collapsing, I consider myself fairly healthy.

Or I did.

Until the day the letter came.

During my last visit to the doctor’s office, I had some bloodwork done. Routine stuff. I had no concerns. And then the letter came.

My cholesterol? 230. TWO-THIRTY. That’s higher than my two-time triple-bypass uncle’s cholesterol. That’s higher than, according to my non-scientific survey, the cholesterol of any person I know. What’s that all about?

I know (from TV commercials!) that cholesterol isn’t all about one’s diet and that genetics play a part, too. And granted, my mother has high cholesterol (though lower than mine, dagnabit), so I guess it could just be partially out of my control. But it’s still a little scary to me.

So, my Plan for 2005? Do whatever I can to get that number down. I’ve been focused on the scale for so long I’d stopped paying attention to anything but losing weight. I can see that it’s now time to think about other numbers.

Oatmeal, here I come.