Small Update

Yesterday, I walked a mile. This morning, I got up, had tea, and hopped on my exercise bike for 30 minutes. It was the first time I have ridden in months, and my legs *really* felt it. When I last rode, I was doing 30 minutes, 6 days a week, on 7 resistance and it wasn't terribly hard. This morning I was dying after 8 minutes and wondering how I would get through 30. I varied the resistance between 3 and 5 and I just made myself stay on the bike for the full 30. I feel like I accomplished something important today.

Breakfast was steamed asparagus and two eggs over easy fried in cooking spray. I had some black currant flavored iced tea and fresh cantaloupe for a snack, and then I took my daughter for a walk to the park. Given that it is already 84 degrees out, walking a half mile after biking for a half hour is pretty good.

When I weighed 2 days ago, I was up to 240 pounds. That was pretty upsetting to me. I haven't seen that number in a very long time. It makes me kinda angry that even WITH the amount of effort I put into losing weight, I am going up and down with an emphasis on the up. I mean, really. I walked a mile at least 3 times a week this month. I made healthy meals about 75% of the time. I said no to a lot of indulgences I wanted. I drank a ton of water, I paid attention to what I was eating, I logged calories some of the time, I ate more vegetables and fruits and less junk. And yet here I am, 240 pounds. If I had been making *no* effort over the last 6 months, I have no doubt in my mind that I would easily weigh over 300 pounds right now. And that is a very scary thought.

And so I have made the commitment to myself to put my biking first. Walking is nice but it just doesn't get me into the aerobic range I need to be in to burn calories. Oh I will still walk, for pleasure... to the park with the kids, or in the evenings after my daughter goes to bed. But I have decided that the biking is just essential for me to make a part of my daily life FOREVER in order to be fit. I am even going to request an actual real live semi-recumbent bicycle for my birthday so I can ride outdoors instead of in the family room. I am a biker. I love to ride.

Yesterday I decided to do my yoga DVD, but couldn't find it. It took me a full half hour to find the thing and then I had other things to attend to. So now it is on top of the TV and I am going to try it this week.

Tonight's dinner: whole grain spaghetti with buffalo, tomato veg sauce, and piles of mushrooms and zucchini, with broccoli on the side.

I am not giving up this battle. Never.

Substitutions

A couple of days ago, I found myself in an obsessive quandary. I have this thing in my head, where sometimes when I hear about a food or see a food, I start wanting it to the point where I will walk through fire to have it. It gets totally stuck in my brain. I used to see pizza commercials and then spend hours fighting off pizza cravings until I'd finally cave and order pizza. Over the past year and a half, I have gotten a lot better about just saying NO or distracting myself... otherwise, I'd still be morbidly obese. But occasionally I still get the "skipping record" in my head for a particular food... and I *think* I HAVE to have it or I will just DIE.

So it was that I read a post on the Pioneer Woman's site about making homemade fried chicken tenders... complete with pictures and step-by-step instructions. And I couldn't stop thinking about fried chicken. Now, I don't own a fryer, nor do I ever deep fry *anything* anymore, but these chicken strips were haunting my head, dancing around taunting me about how good they would taste with Ranch. I *wanted* them. I wanted them SO BAD. I started negotiating in my head about how many miles I would walk or what meals I could skip to have them. And then I got in my car and drove around thinking about it, and when my daughter fell asleep in the back seat I drove to the next town over because they have a KFC there, and I went through the drive though and ordered a box of popcorn chicken with a side of Ranch.

I parked in their parking lot like the desperate food addict that I am, opened the box and gazed down lovingly at the crunchy fried golden nuggets. I ate one. It was okay. I ate a second one. And as I stared out over the horizon at the blue sky and trees, feeling the grease and salt coating my mouth, I had the loud and distinct thought, "This is not what I want." I looked down at the nuggets. "I didn't want nuggets. I wanted love."

I sat back and thought about it. There are so many things I really, desperately want in my life right now. Peace. Quiet. Alone time. Love. Affection. A cleaner house. More communication with my kids. Energy. Time. But not chicken nuggets.

The chicken nuggets were a substitute for what I *really* wanted, but felt I couldn't get. I want to be rid of this blasted eye infection that came upon my daughter and myself, but I have to just keep using eye drops until it's gone. I want my husband to work on our marriage with me, but that seems more and more to be out of my control. That's it... out of my control. I want a lot of things I can't control. I want my son's disability to go away. I want my house to be bigger. I want my dog not to have heart problems. But I can't control any of that stuff, so my brain calls up something I CAN control, like, say, a Hostess lemon pie or chicken nuggets, and then I go all nutso getting it for myself because, HEY, this is something I CAN control. This is something I can want and get. Food. I can have any food I want, no matter what it is, I can drive around for hours until I get it. But it's just a substitution. A diversion that tricks me into *thinking* I got what I wanted, when in fact, I didn't.

Some things *are* in my control, but take a lot more effort than a walk to 7-11 for a donut or a drive to the grocery store for ice cream. But really, how much sense does it make to keep doing these substitutions? If you want a cleaner house, how about cleaning it? It makes no sense to go out for a hot dog because you want a cleaner house, any more than it makes sense to buy a new chandelier because your toilets are dirty.

I have to accept the things I can't control, and work on the things I can. Like my body. I can take walks, I can bike. I might *want* to jog or roller blade or do step aerobics, but just because my knees won't allow me to do those things doesn't mean I should substitute Big Macs so I can have what I "want." Taking walks and biking makes more sense. It gets me closer to what I *really* want. But takes more effort. It's simpler to buy a candy bar and feel momentarily fulfilled and indulged than it is to bike for 30 minutes. But the food substitutions have to stop.

I looked back down at the box of nuggets, and I took the remaining dozen or so and threw them away. Because that's the reasonable thing to do when one realizes that they do not *really* want chicken nuggets.

And then I came home and cleaned my house instead.

Beauty and Disease

Last week, I had the pleasure of attending a ballet that was put on by a local dance school and featured students from toddler to teenager. It was a lovely show (especially since my amazing daughter was in it, in her pink tutu and tiara), but I was struck by the beauty of the older dancers. I've never been interested much in ballet, so never bothered to watch many performances. But being up close and seeing such young girls moving with grace and joy was truly beautiful.

As I sat there watching the teenagers flit gracefully across the stage, I started thinking about their body types. There were tall, thin ballerinas and shorter, heavier ballerinas, but none of the older, more talented dancers were obese. I started wondering why.

As I continued to watch, the combination of music and dance was just captivating. So artistic, so beautiful. The dance school stresses that all of the ballerinas need to look as similar as possible. Even in the toddler classes, for performances all the girls must dress the same, in the same color tights, with their hair pulled back in the same tight bun. No cute ringlets, no earrings, no nail polish, no tattoos on their arms. Nothing to draw attention to any particular dancer over another (unless it is done intentionally as part of the performance). I'm no dance guru, but it seems to me that the beauty of the dance is in the fluid movement of the dancers moving as a unit, or in patterns to create an artistic flow. If one of the kids had their hair in a mohawk it would distract from the flow.

So what to do with an obese ballerina? Well, certainly in the younger classes there were heavy girls, and they were very beautiful just as the other girls, and danced nicely. I think it is wonderful that they are NOT letting their size get in the way of what they love to do. And physical activity is great for people of every size. These heavier girls might even slim down to a healthier state THROUGH dance.

But once you got to the older girls.... 13, 14, 15... they were not obese. Some were "heavier" than others, meaning, not the kind of girls you might see on TV as models, but normal healthy, beautiful bodies just the same. And as I was watching and thinking about all of this, I realized that part of the beauty of ballet is in the form. Seeing those young, healthy, strong bodies doing what they were meant to do was wonderful. Their arms were strong. No one had big hunks of flab hanging down off their arms like I do. No one was inhibited by an apron of belly fat slinging down around their tutu. No one was thudding down on the stage with every leap because they had 100 pounds of extra fat bulging out from their waists and hips and thighs. It was all very beautiful. Healthy bodies, not distorted by disease.

Yes, disease. I have seen obesity is referred to as a disease before, and it sort of offended me. I mean, I don't buy into the obesity virus thing, and I certainly don't like to think of my fat as a disease... but it IS, really, a disease, whether you define it as a disorder of the body system, a harmful condition, or a condition that impairs normal functioning (all from the dictionary). Being obese IS harmful to the body. It is NOT how bodies were meant to function. Just doing a little research on what all that extra fat does to the internal organs... what obesity does to the circulatory system, the joints, the digestive system... is usually enough to open anyone's eyes to the fact that obesity is just NOT healthy, NOT a normal way of functioning for a body. It's not good for anyone.

That's what was going through my mind as I watched those dancers move. They can move with grace and strength. They exude confidence and joy in living. It's wonderful to see young healthy bodies doing what they were meant to do.

I know that a 39-year-old body is never going to look like a 14-year-old body, and once a person has spent a decade being obese, it's impossible to ever get back to the perfect state of health we wish for. But I certainly can do better than this. I can work to melt off the extra fat. I can build muscle. I can restore my body to a state of health and get rid of the disease of obesity that has plagued me for years.

There IS beauty in every body. But, to me, the most beautiful thing is a body... any body, even as imperfect as mine... that is as healthy as it *can* be. That's something we are all capable of: building strength and grace and health, day by day, step by step.

Dichotomy

Sometimes it feels like there's two different people living in this body: a healthy, fit girl and a lazy, fat girl. Sometimes they have talks with each other, like when I see a brownie in the store:

Fat Girl: oohhhh, that looks gooood. Look at the frosting! I want that.
Fit Girl: No, you don't want that. It'll make you ill.
Fat Girl: No it won't! It's only one brownie. It won't hurt anything and you can make a salad later.
Fit Girl: One brownie got you where you are now.
Fat Girl: Oh come on, I really really want it. And wouldn't a bottle of chocolate milk taste sooo good with it? You can eat it in the car... mmmm.
Fit Girl: Shut up.

Sometimes they have little spats when I am getting ready to exercise, too:

Fat Girl: Ugh, I don't want to bike.
Fit Girl: We are biking.
Fat Girl: I'm too tired!
Fit Girl: That's the point.
Fat Girl: We could make a plate of fettuccine and watch TV instead.
Fit Girl: Nope.

And their behaviors come out in interesting ways, too:

Fat Girl circles the parking lot for 10 minutes waiting for someone to pull out so she can park really close to the store, because heaven forbid she should walk farther than she absolutely has to. She sees a close parking space as some kind of victory. It's like winning the lottery. "Yay! I got the closest parking spot! Yess! I beat everyone to it!"

Fit Girl just drives up and takes whatever spot is open, because that is the logical thing to do if you don't have a handicapping condition that forces you to park closer. She leaves the closer spots for the elderly, the sick, those with small children, and other people who really need them. She understands that walking a little farther to the store is no hardship and actually contributes to her overall well being.

Fat Girl sees cookies, brownies, or pieces of cake and eyeballs them down to the last millimeter to see which one is the biggest before taking her serving. If a cheesecake is cut into 8 slices, and she is in public (where she knows she is only going to get one piece and not be able to eat the whole cheesecake herself), she carefully looks at the width of each slice to get herself the biggest one. Again, some kind of victory, like a child who gets more than their playmates and dances around singing, "I got more than youuuuuuuu! I got more than youuuuu!"

Fit Girl takes whatever piece she gets, or goes for the smallest serving because she does not *need* a huge piece to feel satisfied. She is happy to savor a half slice or even just a taste of someone else's dessert, because having dessert is not the pinnacle of her existence.

As you can see, Fat Girl is pretty juvenile in her actions. She is pretty selfish. It's all about winning, getting, having. She wants to sit around, ignore her responsibilities, and eat everything she *wants* to whenever she *wants* to in whatever manner she *wants* to. And heaven help anyone who gets in her way when she is trying to binge. GET AWAY FROM MY M&M's, BUSTER, OR I WILL BITE YOUR ARM OFF.

Fit Girl is more concerned about being healthy, being responsible, and taking care of herself. She is more mature, and doesn't have to have her every whim catered to. In fact, she is pleasant to be around and she enjoys life, unlike her bratty Fat Girl counterpart.

I wonder if these two essences of myself can peacefully coexist. I don't think they can. Someone's gotta go... or at least go far into the background in order to have some peace. It's the conflict between Fit Girl and Fat Girl that drives the sadness, guilt, and anguish that comes from feeling like a failure when trying to lose weight and struggling. Maybe that's why some people try to kill the Fit Girl by "accepting" that they do not want to diet, do not like exercise, and are "okay" with staying fat. Once Fit Girl is drowned in a vat of milkshakes, it's much easier to smile and eat pastries and not feel bad about *not* walking or eating vegetables or whatever. By embracing Fat Girl, one can be rid of the dichotomy that causes inner conflict.

But I don't want to do that. I want to embrace Fit Girl, and let Fat Girl melt away into the background. I want to walk and hike and be healthy and fit. I want to give up the inner brat... or rather, give her time outs until she learns how *not* to be so bratty.

Fit Girl took a walk this morning. She had a healthy breakfast of Egg Beaters with light cheese, watermelon, raspberries, and iced green tea. She had grilled chicken/veggie kabobs for dinner last night, with a side of broccoli salad and fresh mangoes, and tonight she is having grilled vegetables with feta on focaccia bread. She might even lift weights this afternoon.

I'll let Fat Girl sleep for now. She can slumber away, dreaming of cupcakes and lasagna while I live the life I've always wanted. When she awakens, I'll teach her to be civil. I can love her until she learns that it's safe to let herself become one with Fit Girl. And then there will be peace.

Yesterday

I know you're just dying to know how I did yesterday! Well, actually, even though I ate a whopping 2,548 calories yesterday, I did *better* than I have done for the last two weeks. First, because I even know how many calories I ate. I had to dust off my trusty old Sparkpeople account and make myself log everything I ate, but I got that done. I was a bit resistant at first because, you know, change is hard, but I figured I really need to get back into the habit of logging and being aware of my food in order to improve my intake. So that's how I know about those 2,548 calories.

My breakfast was good, which is probably the easiest thing for me to improve. I have a short mental list of nice, healthy breakfasts I really enjoy... smoothies, Egg Beaters in various forms, oatmeal, grapefruit with peanut butter wheat toast... so a healthy breakfast is very easy and habitual for me. In fact I have to make a concerted effort *not* to eat a healthy breakfast (like reaching for the waffles and sausage that the kids are having) and when my breakfasts go all to heck, you know I am way, way off track! Anyway, my breakfast yesterday was: cup of chai tea with skim milk & agave nectar, and a bowl of mixed grain raspberry cocoa oatmeal with half a banana mashed in and a splash of 2% milk.

Now I have to admit that after this, my eating went haywire... but really not as haywire as it has been. So while it may *look* awful (and yeah it is awful) it is still a step in the right direction, which is all I am asking myself for for now. I was out and about for hours, looked in my purse for the almonds I usually carry and the tin was empty. Daughter wanted to go play at the park but I still hadn't eaten. I've been having caffeine withdrawal headaches since stopping the daily Cokes I had slipped back into, so I thought, well, I will have an iced coffee while she plays and that will tide me over til I get home and eat. So off to Starbucks I went for my caramel frappuccino, and then to the park. When I got out to take her to the park, she was asleep! Guess what's next to the park? Mcdonald's. So I thought, "I'll just grab a cheeseburger and sit here in the car and eat it while she sleeps and listen to talk radio and relax, and then when she wakes up we will play." (I can hear your heads shaking now. Yes, this is the kind of thinking I am trying to eliminate. That's why I'm writing it down. Awareness.) So off I went to the drive thru, where I suddenly was thinking a Big Mac meal would be better... but I ordered 2 cheeseburgers and a small fry and thought I was being "reasonable and moderate" with my choices since, hey, I didn't get a Big Mac and large fries and a Coke and an ice cream cone and 3 chocolate chip cookies, right? Wow, the more I type this out, the more ridiculous it is. Back to the park I went, ate my 2 cheeseburgers and fries, drank my coffee, threw the evidence in the trash can, and then thought, "hey, I wasn't going to eat in the car anymore."

When I tried to wake up my daughter she started tantruming which means she was just too tired to wake up. So I went home. Which is what I should've done in the first place. She slept on the couch for an hour.

When I went to get the other little girl (who is living with us this month) from preschool, I *DID NOT* stop at the store on the way there and buy either 3 Russell Stover chocolate mint dreams or 2 Hostess pies and eat them in the car on the way there as I had been doing last week. I just drove there, got her, and came home.

And then when my daughter woke up, we all took a nice long walk around the block, played at the park, brought the dog with us, and really enjoyed the sunshine and nice weather. This was another victory for me, since all week I have been telling my sons to take the girls out in the backyard to play because I was too tired and crabby to be bothered.

I was planning to make a huge salad for dinner with baked chicken nuggets for the kids, but when I got home from the walk I had other things to tend to so my husband gave the kids their nuggets with some hummus and milk and I bailed on the salad for another day. When I got around to eating I had 2 pieces of pizza, which was good (chicken breast, spinach, and mushrooms on thin crust) and bad (600 calories total). I had iced green tea with it, and a light Yoplait yogurt for dessert.

Later that night, I didn't bike. I didn't go back out for another walk and I didn't lift weights. I sat and ate a bowl of cereal with skim milk at 9pm and didn't get to bed til after 11.

Sooo, to recap, I improved some but not enough. I'll call it a baby step, and work harder today. I definitely need wayyy more vegetables and some fruits in there. I think the biggest step I took was getting back to logging my calories. I want to do that daily and hone my eating down to a very nutritious 1700ish calories.

Our little houseguest goes home next week! While I do love and enjoy children, it will be nice to have space and time back to focus more on myself and my health. We are going to cook out on the grill this weekend and I am so looking forward to grilled vegetable sandwiches. The kids can HAVE their burgers, I would much rather have a huge pile of grilled zucchini, onions, red peppers, yellow squash, and feta cheese on some toasty focaccia bread! Grilled portabellos are fantastic, too.

Have a great Memorial Day weekend, and remember to be kind to yourself.

Renewed Focus

Well, I've been cruising and/or floundering along for a week, improving my meals and activity level but still not feeling satisfied with my progress. I guess I got too relaxed about the whole weight loss thing; after I lost enough weight to be more comfortable and active, it just became less urgent. But I don't want to stop here; I want to lose more weight. I want to be even *more* comfortable and active. And frankly, I haven't been putting in the effort. It hasn't been a real priority, since my desperation to escape the pain and prison of morbid obesity is gone.

I was thinking yesterday. I used to have a really structured way of eating, living, being.... a way that led to weight loss and greater fitness. I was fairly regimented in my exercise and what I was eating. When I got lackadaisical about it, the exercise fell off the map. Six days a week of vigorous biking turned into a couple of one mile walks a week. The weight lifting melted into the background. I kept "forgetting" to do my knee exercises and resistance work, "forgetting" to weigh myself. And the eating has been sloppy too, even when I am not on the junk-food wagon: just eat something healthier than what I used to eat, in smaller portions than I used to eat, and call it good.

But that's not getting me where I need to be. Right now I feel pretty positive and energetic, which is a great time to step things up a bit. So I am going back to the old way to get myself into the habit of doing more.

The strangest thing happened this week. You know how I was agonizing over where to set up my weights so I could have a space to work out? And after days of mulling over every possible scenario, I came up with a great solution that made use of the space we have. I had mentioned to my husband that I was going to set up the weights and he seemed at least mildly supportive (okay, he didn't object). Well suddenly yesterday he tells me that he wants a *den.* He wants "his own room" where he can put his things and retreat for privacy. Well, if you read my description of our house, you know that just trying to make space for my weights was a dilemma. Now that I have a plan and am going forward with moving things around and setting up a fitness space, suddenly he needs a den. Frankly I never *really* thought there was sabotage going on but this is just too much of a coincidence to ignore. I don't know what's going on in his head... I've made many attempts to discuss this stuff with no results. But you know what? I am in charge of my destiny. I am going to set up the freaking weights where I said I was going to, and if he needs a *den* he is going to have to work it around my health requirements. On a brighter note, he did promise to NEVER bring candy in the house again. If he can keep that end of the bargain, it will make things a whole lot easier! (And... other things are better... so just remember that my sharing about my weight loss obstacles with my husband is not an invitation for commenters to trash my marriage).

I'm going to start using my blog to report more detail about my food and activity again, and my goal is to get myself back to the way I was doing things last summer:

Bike 30 minutes, 6 days a week
Weights and resistance training 3 days a week
Counting calories (1500-1700/day)

Plus I do like to take walks and be active outside. Hiking is a lot of fun! I have been slacking so I am going to have to work my way back up gradually so I don't hurt myself.

I'm excited to get back to the strong life! When I am working out, I feel so much better. It is so rewarding! The sun is shining and weather is perfect for living. Let's get to it!

Where I Feel It

When I was a little kid, my Mom used to give me food to make me happy. I don't really remember it much, but I know it happened. Like the time I'd knocked my teeth out falling on a curb, and she gave me ice cream, Popsicles and cotton candy to help me feel better. My Dad did it, too, actually, but used it as more of a special treat or reward. After I'd play my violin in a concert, he would take me out for ice cream sundaes, and if I behaved, sometimes he would bring me home a candy bar. It wasn't every day, and I do the same things with my kids sometimes... celebrate with food, get a treat if you're good. Even the pediatrician gives out lollipops after you get a shot, and all the kids playing soccer get a cupcake or a cookie or something like that after their games. It's a tradition, I guess. And maybe not a bad one in context.

But I remember the first time I actually reached for food FOR MYSELF with the conscious awareness that I was not hungry, and was using it for something else. It was when I was about 14 years old and I had the beginnings of a stomach ulcer (although I didn't know that at the time). My stomach hurt a LOT. I always had sharp pain and burning in my gut, and I found that the only thing that helped it was eating. I remember eating applesauce nearly nonstop all day long to try and stop the pain. I'd eat a few bites, and feel better. Then 15 minutes later it would hurt again, so I'd eat more. I alternated bites of applesauce with swigs of milk, and when it still hurt at the end of the day, I started drinking Mylanta straight from the bottle. Eventually, my mother took me to the doctor, who told me I was developing an ulcer. I remember asking him, "what should I do? I eat applesauce all day long to make it feel better but it isn't working" and he looked at me like I was NUTS, and told me not to eat when I'm not hungry. He told me the applesauce was making it worse! And even at that young age, before I had a weight problem, I knew it was not "normal" to eat when I was not hungry and not even enjoying the food. But I didn't know how else to fix my pain.

When I am physically hungry, I feel it in my head. It is the weirdest thing. I might get a stomach grumble, but generally, my true hunger comes out as a headache and lightheadedness. Maybe that's because I wait too long to eat because I don't get a really strong hunger signal from my stomach.

When I am emotionally hungry, I feel it in my stomach. I get a knot in my stomach and feel like someone is squeezing me or putting a noose around my midsection. I get this sense of anxiety coming from my gut, and my stomach seems to be calling out, "fill me! fill me!" The sensation doesn't stop until I put a significant amount of food into my stomach. I wonder if it isn't really my *stomach* that is giving me those feelings, but perhaps my soul. Hunger of the soul is the hardest kind to fill.

With this kind of confusion about what hunger is and where it's coming from, it's easy to see how one could get into the habit of eating to subdue sensations that are perceived as "hunger," but that are, in fact, something else. It's important to stop and take note *before* you eat, of why you are eating. And ask yourself, "is it really food I need? Is eating this food going to make things better? Or worse?"

I used to wish I was anorexic or bulimic, before I understood how truly painful and disabling those conditions can be to those suffering from them. I used to *try* to be anorexic by following the models I saw in the media: skip meals, drink water, eat plain lettuce and a yogurt and nothing else. But I'd start feeling so desperately dizzy and sick that my body *forced* me to eat. And when I "tried" to be bulimic, my body rejected that as well; I couldn't make myself throw up no matter what "trick" I tried from bulimic advisers. I'd stand there over the toilet sticking things down my throat and gagging for 20 minutes with no results, and then sit down and cry because I had eaten so much and I didn't want to get fat.

I got fat, and I got educated so that I no longer *wanted* to have an eating disorder... but I ended up with one anyway. I binged. And I didn't know that was in the same category as anorexia and bulimia... that it is disruptive and can be disabling and cause your body much distress and emotional pain.

Now I'm working it out. I understand that a binge is a hurtful thing, and that if I want a long and happy life I just can't continue that behavior. I still get those feelings in the pit of my stomach that shout, "feed me!" But I am learning to feed myself with self love and self care instead of hurting myself with food.

When I feel that sensation in my gut, there is something else that can make it go away. Taking a walk works; about 15 minutes into a brisk walk I start to feel better. Being loved helps too... if I can get comfort from a person, I feel better and don't feel the need to turn to food. It's all part of the healing process, and I am so thankful to be on this journey. I'm learning so much about myself and how to care for ME. Finally, I'm believing I deserve to be loved and cared for. And that's a really good feeling.

The Comfort of Obesity

When I started losing weight, it was fun. It didn't take a ton of effort to start seeing changes: I ate more watermelon, my pants sizes went down. I ate less sugar, my zits went away. Within weeks, I could walk farther, do more, fit more places. The benefits of losing weight were rolling in, and my life got happier and more comfortable as the pounds dropped. I went from hobbling around in pain to walking and hiking and mopping the floors. I could wear cute, comfortable clothes instead of slinking around in shame in stained, baggy tee shirts and black stretch pants with the inner thighs worn out. I was reveling in the delights of a whole world of fresh fruits and vegetables and focusing on moving my body in new ways: lifting weights, biking, doing situps and wall pushups. When I went to the doctor, I no longer had to go through the ritual of them trying to take my blood pressure with a too-small cuff, then acting surprised, then waiting endlessly while the nurse went rummaging around in every other room for a Size Extra Large cuff attachment for my gigantic upper arm. I no longer had to endure the embarrassment of having a radiology nurse try to stuff my overflowing leg fat into a brace for special knee x-rays and cringing as she tried to get all the rolls and folds into the plastic housing and snap it shut without pinching my plentiful skin in the seams. All of the discomforts of being morbidly obese melted away with the fat as the scale went down. Down, down, down the weight went. Down 64 pounds to 214. And then things started getting uncomfortable in a whole different way.

My clothes didn't fit anymore... which was great, you'd think, until you go to wear your favorite dress and it hangs on you like a sack of potatoes, or you try to wear your deceased mother's sweater because you miss her and wearing it always brought you comfort... but it's now so big it looks ridiculous so you sit on the edge of the bed just holding it, tears streaming down your face. Looking in the closet and suddenly finding that you have nothing to wear is disconcerting. But it's okay, right? You get excited and go out on a shopping spree. It really IS fun buying clothes in smaller sizes...

I remember the day I went to buy myself some new clothes. I couldn't wait to get some fun things to wear to reward myself for losing 64 pounds! Off I trotted to my favorite store... Catherine's! It was rather surprising, but all the clothes were too big! They had nothing in my size. So I went to my other favorite place, JC Penneys. I always find great clothes there. I started in the Plus Sized section, but once again, nothing was small enough. THAT was a great feeling! I happily pranced downstairs to the "normal" sized section... but when I got there, it was an ENTIRE FLOOR of clothing. There were "normal" sizes stretched from one end of the store to another! As far as the eye could see there were clothes. I wandered and wandered through section after section of clothes and I started to feel *really* overwhelmed! This was definitely NOT the tiny 10 by 10 space of clothes choices I was used to in the Fat section, where I could easily grab the one shirt that looked decent and fit. The number of clothing choices in the "normal" section was astounding! I had no idea how to shop in the normal section. I spend a half hour just wandering around staring at all the choices. And then I went home with nothing.

When I went to the mall, I didn't know what to do with myself. Instead of walking from the food court (for pizza) to the chocolate store (for fudge) to the Cinnabon store (for a giant cinnamon roll) to the Starbucks (for a mocha frappuccino), I just walked around wondering why I came there. I didn't really *miss* the junky foods... I just missed knowing what to do with myself. When I got together with my fat friends, I didn't know what to talk about. Instead of bemoaning how impossible it is to lose weight together, there was uncomfortable silence as they stared at my new body, and offhand comments about hoping I was not going to "get too skinny." No more sitting on the park benches together with Big Macs. When one of them brought Kit Kat bars for us to eat together at the park and I said no thank you, you could have cut the uneasy silence with a knife it was so thick. And at home, instead of my husband lovingly running his hands over my body and telling me that my butt was perfect, I was hearing "I am not attracted to skinny women." My world was getting less comfortable by the minute.

And that's not all. There was a strange comfort in the misery of not having to *do* anything all day... or rather, being too fat and out of shape to accomplish anything physical. Sure, I cared for my children. I did the basic cleaning. But I never went out much. I was too tired to vacuum often or carry in my own groceries or walk the dog. I didn't have to play with my kids or mow the lawn or do any major yard work because I was too fat. But when I lost weight, the expectation increased... not only from others, but from within. I *knew* I was capable of doing all those things, and I no longer had an excuse not to.

But the single most difficult thing to deal with as I lost weight was the emotions. When I weighed 278 pounds, I medicated myself with food *constantly.* Sad about something? Have a cheesecake. Angry at someone? Bury it in a bag of chips. Stressed out? Eat a pound of chocolates. All of the painful emotions could be taken care of with food. I didn't have to be angry or sad or lonely. I was always happy because I had yummy food in my mouth. Who can feel anything but happiness when they're delighting in an entire bowl of brownie batter? At least, that's what I thought.

It's definitely not healthy to stuff down your emotions with food, but it sure is easy... and comforting. Just sit on the couch and eat ice cream and stare at the computer screen all day, and you don't have to deal with all the *crap* life is throwing at you. Ignore it! It'll go away with a box of Little Debbie cakes! No more problems. Just drug up with the food and life is dandy.

When I took away that lifestyle, it got a little scary. Okay... maybe a lot scary. Suddenly, I had to actually *deal* with emotions and problems instead of stuffing them down. That is NOT comfortable at all. It's no fun having to *feel* angry or sad or lonely or upset. It's not easy to break old habits of *avoiding* life and start living it. That's why losing weight and keeping it off is tough for many people.

There is a comfort in being healthy and thinner that surpasses anything I can get from food, though. I just *love* the way my body feels when it is lighter, stronger, healthier. I feel more confident and capable at 214 pounds than I do at 278 pounds, by far. Even now, at 238 pounds, I am far better off than I used to be. But I want more. It was comforting for awhile to turn back to food to block out the bad stuff, but now it just doesn't feel good anymore. I don't like how I am starting to feel. I have a sense of uneasiness and irritation at the way I am living my life.

Being obese has its benefits. If it didn't, there wouldn't be so many people living in bodies that they can't really enjoy. But I want the comfort of strength and confidence that comes with being fit and healthy. I can find peace in my own power instead of in the false security of a a bag of chips. Real comfort, for me, is the pride and happiness that comes from being able to bike 7 miles, lift 15-pound dumbbells over my head, and carry my child easily. That's what I'm going for now. The real thing.

Improvement

It's Sunday night and I had a better day today! As a matter of fact, last night after I wrote the last post, I went out at 9PM for a mile walk with my son. I came home and drank water and dumped out the rest of a bottle of Coke.

This morning, I got up and had tea and a smoothie: plain nonfat yogurt, frozen banana, fresh mango, carrot juice, protein powder, and spinach. I put out the first pitcher of sun tea of the season (I use green tea) so I have something healthy to drink (iced). I was fairly active, got some stuff done, felt better. Lunch was a veggie pasta salad (tiny shell pasta, light mayo/skim milk/packet of dry Ranch mix, chopped cucumbers, grape tomatoes, black olives, baby red onions, bacon bits, peas. I wanted to add steamed broccoli but was out.) My snacking went a little overboard (a mini frozen pizza, 300 calories... and an ounce of cheddar) but even when I went shopping I did *not* stop at any drive thrus. I just can't be eating that junk and shouldn't eat in the car, either. Bad habit. So I am glad I made it through a day without Starbucks or McDs or any other evil drugfood.

I made a pot roast for dinner with mashed potatoes (made with skim milk) and low fat gravy. It was good! I only had about 3 oz of meat and a small serving of potatoes.

After dinner, I went for a walk with my other son. It was hot today. We ended up walking to a convenience store for an ice cream bar. Hey, it's still progress... and most importantly, I got some much needed one-on-one time with my boy.

Now it is 10pm. I usually feel sick if I eat after about 8, and get heartburn that keeps me awake at night. My (growing, teenage, can-eat-the-house-and-stay-fit) son just came upstairs and made himself a personal pizza for a snack. And I wanted one. I still want one. I want it so bad I can taste it. And it would be NOTHING for me to go grab one from the deep freeze in the basement, bake it up and eat it. But I decided not to do that. I know I didn't have a perfect day, but why make it worse by eating pizza NOW? No point in that. May as well enjoy the small successes of the day and aim even higher tomorrow.

I think I'll get to bed early and get off to a good start for tomorrow, starting now!

Readjusting...

This has been a total week from hell in regards to my eating. I absolutely regressed back to the behavior that got me to morbid obesity. And my body is showing it. I am so tired, cranky, moody, and unmotivated it is not even funny.

I wasn't even going to blog this, but as always, I am keeping it real. In fact this is the reason people regain weight and get/stay fat. I don't like it but the whole reason I have this blog is to chronicle the battle, the ups and downs. And this week has definitely been a huge problem!

All week I have been hitting the drive thrus. McD's and Starbucks for the most part. I found myself doing things I have not done in a long, long time, including:

Going to McD's for a Big Mac meal as a "snack" at 3pm before picking up a kid from preschool... sitting in the car eating it and then driving to a trash can to dispose of the evidence.

Eating a candy bar in the bathroom so no one would see me.

Eating 3 candy bars in a row as a snack.

Eating far more than I can comfortably stomach but continuing anyway.

Drinking a lot of Coke, iced coffees, hot coffees... every day.

Eating a lot of cheese, a can of Pringles in one sitting, 4 buttered English muffins for a nighttime snack.

Eating waffles and sausage for breakfast every day (which my husband has been preparing).

Watching the vegetables rot in the fridge.

Eating 3/4 of a half gallon of ice cream in 2 days.

Eating crap like hot dogs. Ew.

I am really disgusted. I totally know better than to do this to myself. In fact I have been shoving food in my face and at the same time, thinking, "This has to stop." And I know I am not the only one who struggles this way.

The only aerobic activity I had all week was a one mile walk. I am clearing out space in the family room for the weights to go in there, as per my plan, and trying to get outside and be active at least walking to the park every day, but this eating has got to stop. I weigh 238, and my freaking pants don't fit anymore. The fat rolls are busting out like you wouldn't believe.

This really sucks, but it is what it is. Although I am annoyed with myself, I am also forgiving myself and today feeling better enough to start making better choices for myself.

You know, I was thinking. A lot of times, when bloggers "fall off the wagon" as they call it, they stop blogging. They disappear. No one has any idea what happened to them. It's like the Bermuda Triangle of the Blogosphere: sailing along and BAM! Where'd they go?? I really hate that. But I understand it. It's hard to admit it when you make mistakes. But you know what? If you can't admit it, you can't change it. I am not going anywhere. Good, bad, 150 or 250 pounds, this is MY journey. I want to share it. I want to continue learning and growing and changing. Because I don't have a wagon to fall off of anymore... just a life to live, and I want to make it as happy and healthy as I can. Reflecting over my days and weeks helps me readjust and keeps me out of denial. And maybe my honesty helps other people stay honest, too.

Every moment is a fresh start. I'm ditching those old bad habits again. I feel better already. I know I have a lot of work ahead of me, but I am up for it.

Solution Found!

Thank you all SO MUCH for the home gym suggestions on my last post! I really needed some "fresh eyes" to look at the situation and give me some new brain seeds.

I've decided to go ahead and divide the family room into two sections: one with TV, couch, video games for the kids, and the other side with weights, bike, and a smaller TV/DVD player for me. I *love* the divider idea. I also love the "lock the weights in a trunk" idea! Why I didn't think of that, I don't know! But it's great because I have a *lot* of children from age 2 through 17 coming through my home and while I am almost always with the smaller ones, I don't want any older ones messing around dropping weights on themselves or on the tile floor either. So I will lock the hand weights in a trunk (I already have a trunk!) and I am going to find a way to lock the Home Gym system from use when I am not present. I think I can use a bike lock or something similar that will prevent the stacks from being used. I can definitely teach my own kids not to mess with it... and tell my 3-year-old it is a "danger" area (she is obedient like that). But I want it safe for other people's kids too who sometimes wander through the house and might not be as safe. So the locks solve that issue. I am so excited to set this up! I've been wanting to do this for ten years but have let fear and indecision stop me all this time. Now that I have decided and am not afraid anymore, I am VERY ready to get working on this! So thank you! When it's all set up I will take a picture and post it on my blog.

Today I am doing the usual PMS/migraine struggle. I feel nauseous and literally wish I could lock myself in a room all day and ignore the world, but that isn't going to happen. At least I know it will be over in a day or so. Anyway, I think I will try to write something more coherent later today or tomorrow if I feel better.

Have a super day!

Help Me Build A Gym!

I've been trying to figure out a way to make a "home exercise space" where I can put all my stuff... a personal space for lifting weights, doing videos, and riding my bike. I really just want a "fitness space" I can go to and enjoy. I can't quite get my head around the *how* to do this, logistically, and I'd really appreciate any input!

I have my recumbent bike in the basement, and it's in front of the TV. I like that, because I can zone out watching TV while I ride. But it's also the TV with all the video games hooked up to it, and with a pack of teens, sometimes I have to kick them off it to bike. That, I don't like.

That TV also doesn't have a DVD player. But I have several good exercise DVDs I would like to do. So what I'd like to do is buy a small TV/DVD player and have it in a room with the bike so I can use it for whatever I want when I want to exercise.

I have a bunch of hand weights in 3, 5, 8, 10, and 15 pounds, and I have a nice mat for floor exercises. That stuff is in my bedroom, and when I want to lift, I either do it in there or bring them out and do them in the living room. I'd like to consolidate and put the weights wherever I have the bike and TV. I'm kinda sick of tripping over 10 dumbbells every time I get out of bed.

The catch is, I have this really great home gym weight system, with stations for 2 people and all kinds of exercises on it with cables and adjustable weights. I used to use it all the time when I weighed 170-ish. But guess what? It's been sitting in my garage covered in dust for 10+ years. Sheesh. So I really want to get it out, set it back up and start using it. It's very cool and just like having a gym in your house! I really, really want to use it. It's a huge pain, takes up a big space and takes all day and a couple of very strong people to move it and set it up, though, so I have to be *sure* where I am putting it before I move it.

The issue I have is safety. I have read several stories in the news about little kids who got killed messing around with weights and weight machines, and I am *ultra* protective of my 3-year-old. I cannot have her around those weights. So I can't put them where she would get into them and smash her fingers, drop them on her toes, or worse. So where the heck can I put this thing??

I always wanted to finish the garage and set up a workout zone, but that would cost a lot more money than I have. So here are my ideas. I need your insights because I have tunnel brain on this, and would *love* suggestions on how to set this up!

A few facts: I have a 2-story house and we spend almost all our time upstairs. That's where the toddler is most of the time (upstairs = kitchen, living room, my bedroom, her bedroom, and small playroom). So I figure I can't put the weights up there because she might get hurt.

Downstairs we have a family room where my bike is, but if I put the weights in there, she might get into them. She comes in there sometimes on her way outside or to play in the computer room. I can't lock that room (has an entry/exit).

There's an office, but if I turned it into a workout room... I wouldn't have an office. Filing cabinets, desks, and storage... and I have no place to put any of it. I think we really need to keep the office.

There's 3 kids bedrooms. I could put the weights in one son's room, but not the bike or other stuff. I would just stick the weights in the corner of his room. Then I'd have to be kicking him out of his room or going in there with him when I want to work out. Maybe a 15 yr old needs his privacy...

There's no other place to put the weights unless I convert part of the garage to a room, but then we are talking about getting A/C and heat in there, creating space, making walls perhaps... might be too expensive for our budget.

Okay, so those are the facts! So if you were given this house, 5 kids, and the safety concerns I have, where would you put the exercise equipment?

All ideas welcome :)

Facing Fears

Even after all the 'mental processing' I've done regarding weight, self image, and self consciousness, I still struggle with exercising in front of people. I mean, I would have no problem going to a gym to workout, even if I felt a little funny the first couple of times. I don't mind when people look at me when I am out walking or biking or playing basketball with my kids. And breaking all fat-girl tradition, I do not mind going swimming at a public pool or beach in (gasp) *just* a swimsuit... no t-shirt, shorts, or coverup over it. I do feel like I have atrocious legs (a fright to behold, even though I do appreciate them carrying me around) but I just don't care that much what strangers think. I'm probably never going to see them again anyway. The 'people' I have trouble exercising in front of are the people in my own home: my family.

When my husband was gone all the time, I'd easily bike or strength train or try a workout video with my 3-year-old daughter, because she was fun to do it with. She didn't judge or laugh or make snide comments; she just thought it was fun to do what Mommy was doing, so I gave her a 1-pound weight and away we went. The older kids were in school, but even when they were home I occasionally would bike or strength train in front of them. They were raised well enough not to comment, so I just sucked it up and did it.

But doing aerobics or a yoga DVD in front of my kids, or even a vigorous strength training session, makes me feel *very* self conscious. I know my body is not the most beautiful thing to look at, and I guess in the back of my head I am afraid my kids will notice I am fat. See, kids are sort of oblivious. I gained all this weight when they were younger and they never really *noticed.* I was just their Mom, and they didn't care about my size... they just saw "Mom." Once when I was commenting on needing to lose weight, my little son piped up and told me I was NOT FAT (when indeed I was). Maybe he was being nice, but his honest little face told me he just didn't see me that way.

Now they're teenagers, and I am sure they *know* I am fat, but I want to keep on pretending I am their normal sized, thin, fit mother and hope they have never actually noticed the amount of flab hanging off my upper arms and legs. I have this fear the if I exercise in front of them, they will stop and look long enough to see that stuff, and then suddenly go, "oh gross, look how fat Mom is." Ridiculous, I know. But those fat fears still lurk.

I am pretty sure I could get over exercising in front of the kids completely just by doing it a few times. They're probably just glance my way and go do something else. I mean, what teenager wants to watch his mother do yoga anyway, no matter what she looks like? So what's the problem? Well, I think the big problem is that I am very nervous about exercising in front of my husband.

He's here pretty much all the time now, and he is in the living room 90% of the time, which is where the TV/DVD player is. I've wanted to try my new yoga DVD, but the thing that's stopping me is, what will he do or say? Will he make comments that embarrass me, maybe even in front of my children? Will he joke about how I look? I just do not want to deal with it from the person who *should* be the most supportive of me, but isn't. I have this fear he will draw attention to my fat and then my kids will look at me differently. Or he might turn it into some kind of weird competition. When I was riding my bike daily, suddenly I had to work around *him* wanting to ride it daily, too. Some days he would go ride while I watched the daughter and then I wouldn't get to ride. And now that I am *not* biking, guess what? He never bikes either. Will he suddenly be jumping up to do yoga? Other times, when I have been losing weight, suddenly big chocolate muffins and cases of candy bars have started to appear. I don't want to wake the sleeping monster by showing a weight loss effort... but how lame is that? How lame is my reasoning, really?

I wish I could depend on him to be supportive but since I can't, and no amount of heart-to-heart talks has changed this, I have really GOT to suck it up and ignore my worries and just DO it. What's the worst that could happen? A couple of comments? I have to walk outside instead of bike? I have to throw some stupid chocolate muffins in the trash? It is not worth delaying my life of these ridiculous fears!

I know that once I just DO it the first time, the worst will be over. Every time I exercise in front of the family will get easier. They'll get used to it and I will be fine. I'll be more than fine... I'll be fit! So here goes nothing. This mama is going to do yoga in the living room this week. I'll report back on any interesting reactions I get, and I know I will feel 100% better once I do this.

What fears are you facing this week?

Getting My Stuff Together

Well, after about a week of floundering around not really making any progress in the Healthy Eating/Activity arena, I finally started to get my "stuff" together yesterday. It's a hard pit to get out of: you missed a day exercising, then another day, then another... until you haven't walked or biked or strength trained in WEEKS. Muscles turning to mush, endurance disappearing, energy levels AND mood wayyyy down. You eat a little too much here, an extra serving there. You let the cookies sneak in, then the chips (because there has to be a salty/sweet balance when dealing with junk food) and then before you know it you're eating pizza and ice cream like you don't even care what you weigh. It's tough to pull out of a slump like that because when you are not treating your body right, you just don't feel well. You have no motivation or energy to change. It's like being a big blob of "blah." That's the vicious cycle of obesity.

The wake up call came a few days ago when I couldn't find any clothes to wear because I'd been "checked out" (as I described in my last post) and haven't dealt with my own laundry. So I dug deep and found a pair of size 18 capri pants that have fit me just fine lately. But when I tried to put them on, they wouldn't even button!! In fact, they are a good INCH away from buttoning... much less wearing comfortably. "This is crap," I said, and the transformation began.

I currently weigh 235, and some of that is PMS bloat. I've been secluding myself a bit too much and not going outside enough, so I started yesterday by taking the girls and one son out to the park for an hour and a half. We walked, they biked, we played on the playground. It was nice to get back out in "life." I also went to the Farmer's Market for the first time this season (it just opened last week) and I bought fresh local:

organic asparagus
organic baby red onions
head of lettuce
baby mustard greens
2 onions
local clover honey
fresh pressed local apple cider (from the deep freeze, oh-so-fresh tasting and GOOD!)

There wasn't much else this early but it will pick up in the coming weeks.

I've been having fruit/spinach/protein smoothies for breakfast this week, but today my husband offered to make me breakfast... anything I wanted! I love Mother's Day! My menu:

fresh fruit salad (grapes, blueberries, strawberries... couldn't find a ripe cantaloupe)
2 poached eggs
Canadian bacon
fresh steamed asparagus
an Extra Crunchy Thomas' English Muffin (my splurge! I love these!)
fresh oj

Mmmmm. I had my tea and breakfast's cooking! Later today I will take the kids out for a nice long walk again (one in the stroller, the other on a scooter) and spend time in the backyard as well.

This week's goals:

Eat more real food and little, if any, junk
Try one of my yoga DVDs
Walk or bike 30 min/day
Get outside
Stay checked in *most* of the time

How about you? Got some goals for this week?
Have a wonderful Sunday! And be well.

The Deep Issues Behind the Fat

The more time I spend working out my own escape from obesity, the more I am convinced that there are (at least) two kinds of people trying to lose weight. There's people who don't really understand or are not focused on the principles of good nutrition... who just plain eat the wrong kinds of food in the wrong amounts because they taste good. One day they wake up and say, "I really want to lose weight!" They figure out how to change their eating and start moving, and they pretty much just DO it. They start eating chicken and broccoli and apples, they get on the treadmill an hour a day, an after months of work they have lost the weight. Period. Then there are the people who, even after they *know* how and what to do, they stumble and straggle and suffer along, maybe losing weight, maybe not... regaining, losing, struggling, and wondering, "WHY can't I lose weight and keep it off?" They see the people in the first category, who report that they just "decided" to lose weight and were "determined" to do it, and they think, what is wrong with me, that I cannot do what they did? And they usually stay fat or, if they do lose weight, regain it all within a few years.

I am, of course, in the second category of people. What is going on here? Why can some people up and change their lives without a lot of drama, while others seem to be unable to make real progress?

I'm not saying that if you're in the first category that it was EASY for you to lose weight. I am sure it always takes hard work to make big changes like that. But I've read blogs of people like this. Their weight loss graph is almost a straight line going downward, and they are so inspiring! But then people in the second category read their stories and think it must be impossible for THEM to lose weight, since they go up and down and regain a million times and it is *such* an inner struggle every day to stay on plan. And I think people in category A have a hard time understanding people in category B... because they think it is a matter of "just doing it," of willpower, of excuses, of "just" putting down the fork and being determined to change.

But it's not that simple.

The more I focus on getting the weight off, the more I am learning not only about myself, but about other people and their weight loss journeys and what makes people tick. And I think I've figured something out.

My getting and being obese is a matter of being "checked out" more than I am "checked in." Let me give a few examples of checking out... because it isn't really about food.

There are people whose lives are so stressful to them that they use drugs as an escape. Or alcohol. Either way, what they are doing when they use/drink is "checking out" from what is bothering them. Checking out from THAT LIFE while they are high or drunk. Then when they sober up, they are forced to check back in and deal with the emotions and problems... unless they check back out again.

There are teenagers (and older people) who use sexual activity as a way to lose themselves from whatever things are troubling them. Problems at home with parents, school issues, whatever. When they are lying in bed in the throes of a sexual high, they forget all about those problems. They're checked out. Sometimes teens who have a lot of stress but don't drink or use drugs will use sex as their escape. It turns their brains to something else... something that is pleasant and exciting and NOT their current life problems.

It's not just limited to pleasurable activities, either. Some kids cut themselves as a way of checking out. It's all a matter of doing *something* to get to another place. ANY other place than the life you should be dealing with.

Video games... computer time... the Internet... gambling. All are ways of checking out. How much time are you on the computer? Playing games? Mindlessly surfing? A LOT of people these days claim "Internet addiction," where they spend hours and hours staring at the computer screen each day instead of tending to their real-life responsibilities. I personally have watched someone sit at the computer for 8 to 10 hours A DAY chatting, playing Solitaire, doing nothing, really... in order to escape from the reality of things that are stressful or upsetting. And I have been guilty of doing it too, on occasion. As a matter of fact, a couple days ago I had an upsetting incident in which one of my teenagers could have been severely injured (but thankfully is FINE)... and I sat on the computer ALL DAY "checking out" because I just could not stand to think of him being gone and couldn't handle the emotion anymore.

I am pretty sure a lot of us check out through food. That's why what I wrote the other day about eating in front of a mirror works. It brings reality back, and makes it impossible to check out. And for me, at least, the point of a binge or overeating is pretty much to check out. Call it a coping mechanism, call it an addiction, say it is avoidance. All true. All checking out.

Being hyperfocused on *something* lets you forget about whatever it is you wish did not exist in your life. If you're obsessing about food all day, then you can forget about the laundry, the dishes, the bad marriage, the economy. When all you're thinking about is sex and when you'll get your next lay, you don't have to focus on the fact that your mother is dying and you can't afford your car payment. If you're spending every moment counting calories, fat grams, weighing food, exercising, then you can ignore the other things that need your attention that you don't want to deal with. Not that being diligent about calories and exercise is BAD... but it can certainly take the place of binge obsession to the point of *still* being checked out even while losing some weight.

Being checked IN is about living life in your body and not in your head. You are actually DOING things that need to be done, you're outside taking a walk or you're lifting weights. You're dealing with life, not avoiding it. Being checked in CANNOT involve sitting for 4 hours a day in front of the computer or making 3 runs to the store for Pringles and ice cream and Coke and then wolfing down Happy Meals in your car on the way home and hiding the evidence in the trash before you get there.

How many hours a day are you LIVING your life?

Checking out is a coping mechanism that has its place. Sometimes we HAVE to escape from the stresses of everyday life or some crisis that is occurring. We read a novel or watch a TV show or read blogs for awhile. We can do that and be healthy IF we come back and check in and LIVE each day.

Whenever my child has a tantrum, I get a distinct impulse to run to the kitchen and shove food in my face. I actually used to do it. She would be screaming and I would go to the kitchen and eat a whole piece of cold pizza or a donut or a handful of cookies in 30 seconds flat. I don't do that anymore, even though I still have that fleeting impulse. So I really think this can be changed, if we are conscious of what we're doing. But breaking free from food obsession (or any obsession) actually frees us to focus on other things. That can be good, but it can also be scary and uncomfortable for someone who has coped through avoidance for so long.

Pay attention. How much time are you spending "checked out" on food, games, Internet, etc? Maybe it's time to check back in and deal with life. It is, for me. How about you?

The Belly Again...

I have this pregnant-looking belly that is really getting on my nerves lately. I mean, I have had this belly for a long, long time. It looks like I *might* be 5 or 6 months pregnant, or maybe just fat. I hate it. I look down and it's like I have this alien blob attached to my belly. Which, in fact, is very much like it is to actually BE pregnant, except there really IS an alien in there... and it is a joyful feeling because you're going to have a sweet little baby soon. Having a blob of fat there is NOT joyful. I really hate it!

I remember back in 1998, when I was 28 years old and newly divorced with four very small children. I went to church one Sunday, wearing a beautiful new dress that I'd bought on sale and felt so gorgeous in. It was a dark green fabric, patterned, with those ties that go in the back. After church was over, I got up to leave with my little ones, and an old lady came up to me crying. News had just gotten out that my husband had left, and people were generally being supportive and offering sympathy. She reached out and patted me on the shoulder, looked into my eyes with tears streaming down her face, and said, "Oh, honey, I didn't know you were pregnant!"

The people standing around me looked at my belly. All my kids looked. I knew she meant no harm... she just felt so bad for a young, newly single mom with 4 kids and what appeared to be another on the way. I reached out and put my arm around her shoulder, and said, "Oh, I'm not... I'm just fat." "Oh..." she said... and walked off. I never wore that dress again.

I've had this fat belly ever since then, except for last summer when I got down to 214 pounds. The belly was not *totally* gone, but I definitely did not look pregnant. Even now, really, if I wear the right clothes and watch my posture, I don't look *that* pregnant. But to ME, I do. It's there, and I don't like it. I think all 16+ regained pounds went right to my abdomen and hung out in a "fake preggo belly" convention.

I'm really hoping it will come back off again this summer. But I'm gonna have to work for it. I guess that's my new goal and focus. Get rid of the belly!

Grounded in Reality

Have you ever been eating something and felt like that foods was, for a moment, something other than the fat/grease/salt that it really is? Maybe it became a friend to you when you were sad. A lover when you were needy and lonely. Food can do that sometimes. I know I have had my share of completely transcendent experiences with brownie batter. The minute that mixture hits my tongue, my eyes roll back in my head and I feel like I've died and gone to heaven. I am transported through time and space and all that matters is the sugar high I am getting... how every cell in my body is feeling fulfilled and satisfied and I am no longer a fat 39-year-old woman with upper arms the size of some peoples' waists. I am just a consciousness floating through space with the amazing sensations of brownie batter flooding my very being. It's almost spiritual.

I've heard people say that some rich dessert was "better than sex." And frankly SOME desserts I have had have been better than SOME sex I have had. But food does have to ability to become something in our heads.... something we need or want. We make it that way, and it isn't reality.

In fact, I am convinced that whenever we are in a binge, we are in an altered state of reality. Everything else disappears. It's a beautiful thing.

But I also think that it isn't healthy to make food into a role it wasn't meant to take. Food is nutrition, it's fuel... but it also CAN and SHOULD be a source of pleasure, and even comfort. What it should NOT be is a drug, a lover or a god. It should not become our Imaginary Friend.

Here's an exercise in reality I'd like you to try. Think of a food you really, really enjoy... crave... want. If you have a warped vision of food like I do, you probably have your own "brownie batter" that, when eaten to excess, puts you into some state of bliss. Close your eyes and think of how it feels to be indulging in that. For me, it really is a beautiful thing. A religious experience or whatever. It's almost like I am floating around and my entire consciousness is centered in my mouth. Now, the next time you are eating something like that... or even some trigger food you saw in the grocery store or the Big Mac you just HAD to have and went through the drive through for... I want you to TAKE that food and put yourself in front of a well-lighted mirror, and eat it there. Be sure you are sitting close enough to the mirror to see the way your face looks, how your jaw moves, what you look like as you take bites and chew. Just sit there or stand in the bathroom in front of the mirror, or use your car visor if you're doing the car-binge thing, and watch yourself eat. I know this can be unsettling. It'll make you uncomfortable and you won't want to do it. But do it anyway. Watch yourself. Look closely at your face and eyes, your lips and jaw. Take note. Is what you FEEL when you are eating the same as what you see? What you see is the reality of what a binge IS. It is not what's in your head. As a matter of fact, seeing it can really make you feel gross. It can make you want to stop eating. Why? Because you can't hang onto your fantasy when reality is staring you in the face.

Does that food taste and feel amazing, fantastic in your mouth? Well, take a look. While you're sitting in front of the mirror watching yourself eat, every so often just open your mouth and take a look at what's in there. Not so pretty, eh?

Seriously, I think this is an exercise everyone should do at least once. If you can stand to sit and eat in front of a mirror, REALLY watching yourself closely, it can help you dispel the craziness on your head. It's that craziness that lets the binges happen, because when you are bingeing, you're not grounded in reality. You're not fat, you're not eating a frightening amount of greasy foods at a disgustingly rapid pace. You're just lost in the moment. But lemme tell you, watching a fat person chow down on junk is NOT pretty. And it's even less pretty when it's *you* that you're watching. But watching yourself eat and seeing what the food really looks like can dispel the fantasy and bring you back to reality... the reality of how food affects your body, and what your goals really are.

I do hope you'll try this. It's very enlightening.

I have a few short notes I want to leave you with... just a couple of things I want to say that don't need their own blog post.

1. Liz left a comment earlier asking what scale I use to weigh myself I use a Health-O-Meter Professional Scale similar to this one. It's got a 330 pound limit, and it has a dial (it's not digital) so it doesn't use batteries and is very accurate. I've had it for over 10 years and it still gives me very reliable, accurate weights every day. I also have a Mary Lou's Weigh Platform which I was given to review awhile back. You can read my review here if you like.

2. Cathleen left a comment asking about voting for my blog in the Bloggers' Choice Awards, and said it showed that some people voted more than once, and wanted to know how to do this. Actually, you can only vote for my blog once (in the category Best Health Blog), but you can vote for other blogs for other categories too. So when it says that someone voted 2 times or 15 times by their name, it means they voted that many times total... for other blogs, too... not just for mine. And currently this blog is in third place for Best Health Blog! So if you haven't voted yet, now's you chance:

Thanks for your votes!

(And, BTW, no, there is not a prize if I win. The point of winning, for me, would be to get this blog out there for more people to read. Why? Because I do not want anyone to suffer from obesity if they want to lose weight, and I want people to find encouragement that IT IS POSSIBLE to build the life you want, and that they are not alone in dealing with these issues, including binge eating disorders.)

3. I am doing okay. I've been having smoothies for breakfast every morning: nonfat yogurt, fresh mango, 1/3 banana, carrot juice, 1 scoop protein powder, handful of fresh spinach, and ice cubes all whirled in the blender. It's really good! I love smoothies for breakfast in the summer. And since I know someone will ask, I use the Biggest Loser vanilla whey protein powder :) However, my dinners have not had enough veggies, and I have fallen off the exercise wagon, hard. Just when I got into the habit of walking with my 3-year-old in a stroller each day (she isn't thrilled, but hey, it works), then I got my routine shaken up again when the new little girl moved in with us. She'll be here for all of May, and I don't have a double stroller. She has a scooter but when I walk with her and my daughter it is a slow meander, and my heart rate never gets up. I ought to start biking when they go to bed. There's just so much to do!

4. I thought I'd share this. The first night our new "sister" came to live with us, we had spaghetti. She was sitting across from me and as I finished my food, she piped up and said, "You're done already?? Wow, you eat FAST!" I glanced around, and indeed, no one else was more than halfway done with their food. Oops! She smiled and said, "You really liked it, huh?"

Heh... made me laugh. But also made me think. Time to put the eating speed back in check! Sometimes it takes a fresh set of eyes to see something that needs to change.

Over and out for now... be well!

Fat Phobias, or The Fears that Tie Us Down

The other day when I was going through my Fat Clothes, I found a shirt that brought back memories... good memories, smudged by Fat Phobia. If you've ever been obese, you probably know what I mean by Fat Phobia. It's that terror you feel when you realize that your weight is about to get in the way of Life. It can happen at any time, but some common times when Fat Phobia attacks occur are:

*You are at an amusement park and your friends are all getting in line to go on a ride, and you aren't sure if you'll fit in it.

*You're with your friends or, even worse, on a date at a restaurant, and you're led to a booth that you aren't certain you will be able to squeeze into without cutting your torso in half and resting your boobs on the table.

*You are about to go on something with a Weight Limit, such as a boat, a hammock, a chair, or even an elevator. (Come on, be honest... you've looked at the weight limit when you've gotten on a crowded calculator and mentally calculated whether or not your weight will plummet the whole group to your deaths).

*You are getting in a car with a bunch of people who are squeezing into the back seat and you are sweating bullets knowing you won't fit back there without suffocating someone so you stand back and pray you get the front seat. Airplanes are worse, because you can't sit in the front seat, so you have to cross your fingers for an empty seat beside you.

All of these Phobias about our own fat are caused by anxiety about our size and not knowing whether we will fit in like a "normal" person. Heaven forbid that ANYTHING happens that draws attention to how fat we are! It's just mortifying when we don't fit, especially when everyone else around us does.

So back to the shirt. Several years ago, I was selected to go on a trip to the International Phi Theta Kappa Convention with a few other students to represent our college. At the time, I was a very poor college student (but with excellent grades) and a single Mom, and the college was paying for this trip. I was so excited, because I never really got to go anywhere. A friend had offered to watch my children so I could go.

The flight was uneventful and we were all excited to be there. Then we went to the first day of the convention... and everyone was given a pretty blue Phi Theta Kappa Honor Society tee shirt. Of course, I was pretty embarrassed when we were standing at the table picking out our sizes... even the MEN in our group were picking the XL shirts. I tried to sneakily pick a 2XL without them seeing, because, omg, I can't let them find out I am fat! And, btw, 2XL was the biggest size shirt they had. It looked plenty big. Embarrassingly big, with enough fabric to make a blanket for a small child. I got my shirt, stuffed it in my bag, and breathed a sigh of relief.

But then, on the final day, one of the people in our group suggested that we all WEAR our blue PTK tee shirts to the conference. Ummmm....

Guess what? It did not fit. I knew it did not fit, because when I'd gotten back to the hotel the day before, I'd put it on to admire myself in the mirror. It's a good thing I did this in private, because trying to get that shirt on was like stuffing a boiled egg into the finger of a glove. I could barely get it over my fat rolls, and it was so tight it was constricting my upper arms in a most unflattering way. It accentuated every bump and crease on my body. I took it off and set it aside. Maybe it would fit someday.

But they wanted to wear the shirts NOW. "Hey, let's all wear our PTK shirts tomorrow and take group pictures!" I felt my heart racing and my face flushing. I imagined the shocked looks on all of their faces when they saw me in that shirt. And I imagined one of the guys saying, "Let's take it back and exchange it for a larger size" or worse yet, "Here, I'll give you mine to wear. It's an extra large."

But it all worked out okay, as for some reason they decided not to wear the shirts that day. So I came home, folded up that shirt and stuck it in the Someday wish box.

I found it the other day, when I was sorting my clothes, and I pulled it out and thought, wow. Being fat really steals the life out of you. I was SO PROUD of being a PTK Officer but I never got to wear that shirt. It would have meant a lot to me to be able to proudly wear that shirt, but I couldn't.

When I tried it on this morning, it was too big. It hangs past my hips and elbows in a most unflattering way. Don't get me wrong... I am glad it is too big for me. But it is a symbol of yet another pleasure missed because of my fat.

I'm keeping the shirt, because I am proud of it. Maybe I will cut out the logo and frame it, or make a pillow out of it. I want to remember how it felt to be chosen for that honor, and the good times we had at the convention. And I don't want to forget how much being morbidly obese affected my life.

I still have those thoughts sometimes... the "will I fit/am I too heavy" fat phobic thoughts, but you know what? I pretty much always fit now, and I'm not sinking any boats or elevators. And that feels pretty good.

Fat Clothes

Yesterday, I was going through some boxes and I found my old Fat Clothes. I remember them well. I was wearing some of them in my "before" pictures on this site. They were big and comforting, and I felt at home in them because they covered my size and made me look normal (or so I thought). Some of them were getting too tight, though, and I had to put them back in the closet because I refused to go out with fabric stretched taut across my belly like I was nine months pregnant. I stuck them in a box in that room a long time ago, when I figured it was time to move down a size. So when I came across them yesterday, it was a little flash of nostalgia... and shock.

As I pulled each piece out of the box, memories flooded back. Oh yes, I remember this shirt, so comfy and perfectly fitting. But as I held it up, the fabric just kept billowing out until it seems I was holding a flag... an "I Am Big" Banner... in my hands. It was really big... bigger than I remember. I generally wear 18s and 20s now, and this shirt was a 28. Wow. Times have changed. I've changed.

I held up piece after piece of size 26, 28 and 30 clothing. The X's kept on coming... 3x, 4x, and even two 5x shirts (yes, they were very big on me, but I wore them! What was I trying to do, built up a wardrobe for when I gained 50 more pounds??) I boxed them up and marked the box, "26/28, 3X." And then I went on to find loads of 22's, 24's, and 2x's... all too big for me now. I remember when those used to be my "skinny clothes"... the clothes I hoped and wished and dreamed of fitting into. And now they're too big. Amazing.

As I stood staring at the piles of fabric, I had a moment where I thought, "This is impossible. I'm sure these clothes still fit me." I grabbed a shirt and put it on. It hung like curtains. I just stared. Am I really that much smaller? Sometimes, I feel the same size.

Today I sold my fat clothes. I put them on Craigslist and some nice ladies came and got them for a fraction of what I paid. But I am thrilled. No more safety net. No more saving the Fat Clothes "just in case." I've kept 50 pounds off for a year now. I'm not going back.

I look forward to the day when I take the clothes I am wearing today... 16 top and 18/20 bottom... and put them in a Fat Clothes box. I can't wait to be able to hold them up and wonder, how did they get to be so big on me? Now my Wish Box holds size 14 and 16 jeans, and size medium tee shirts. And you know what? Someday I'll wear them. Maybe sooner than you think :)

May 1, 2009: 130 Pounds

See? See?? I told you I would come back 100 pounds lighter!!

We got home a few hours ago and I am absolutely THRILLED to report that my daughter's test went SO WELL that even the expert nurses who did the test were surprised. "This is the fastest VCUG we have ever done!" It was about 15 minutes long rather than the expected 45+ minutes. The sedation went perfectly, no complications whatsoever, and the only time she showed ANY sign of pain was at the beginning of the catheter insertion when she said, "ow!" once. That's it, then back to watching her movie (a therapist brought a little DVD player into the testing room!) She was totally loopy and couldn't walk for a couple of hours afterwards but she was back to normal the next morning. And when I asked her how she liked her hospital trip (to see what she remembered) she said, "Good. The nurse gave me crackers and a Popsicle!"

And the very best news of all... my daughter's kidney reflux... which was a grade 2/3 previously... is GONE. Completely healed on its own! ZERO. The x-rays looked great, and not only will she NOT need surgery, but the urologist took her OFF her daily medication completely and discharged her from the clinic! I was so happy and relieved when they told me there was no reflux that I felt like melting into a puddle of relief! I sat there in the recovery room, rocking my girl and I honestly, physically and completely felt 100 pounds lighter. It felt like lead weights were lifted out of the pockets of my soul. I cannot even describe it.

It's a burden of worry I have carried for my little daughter since before she was born. From the day I was admitted to the hospital because my unborn baby was in danger, I have been the Mother Of A Sick Child. I remember lying in that hospital bed, day after day, listening to her heartbeat on the 24/7 monitor. It would be beating along just fine and then suddenly... kathunk.................kathunk...............................kathunk.......(big pause) and I would flip out and panic because her heart was going SO SLOWLY and each time it would beat I would wonder if it was going to be the last. It was torture.

When she was born she was quite early and quite small. Two and a half pounds of tiny, sick baby. Ventilators. IVs. Blood transfusions. Oxygen. Heart, lung, eyes, kidneys... specialists galore. Medications, monitors and oxygen tanks were my 24/7 life. She's done very well, but this one last thing was hanging around, making me worry. I was so scared something would happen to her. We had so many close calls already. I just needed her to be okay.

And she IS okay. She is off that blasted medication, FINALLY, after years of taking it daily. I am sooo happy. My baby girl is well!

Thank you all SO much for your thoughts and prayers. My life feels so much better now! I can't believe how much this was weighing (literally) on me all those years. So yeah, in actual pounds I gained 3 in April, but that's okay with me, because I lost a hundred pounds in worry and I feel like a whole new woman!

(Now, maybe I can get my focus onto making these thighs a little smaller!)