Vacation Eating

Yep, that's right, I am on vacation! I had planned to bring my laptop with me, but at the last minute it started having "technical difficulties." That combined with my delay in packing and last minute dash to the airport means I am laptopless for 3 weeks. I've had about 5 minutes of Internet time here and there this week, and tonight is my first chance to check in with an update.

This vacation is special. When I was 18 years old, I moved almost 3000 miles away from home and I've only been back a handful of times. The last time I had a nice visit with relatives was 17 years ago! We were close growing up, and coming back here has been a wonderful experience for me. My kids are getting to meet and play with their cousins, and seeing them around my aunts is wonderful... especially since my parents have been gone for so long. This is not a trip I will be making again for a long time; I am treasuring every minute.

Before I left, I had a flashbacky moment. I was making plans and thought it would be nice to go to some of the restaurants my parents and I used to go to when I was a child. When I was a kid, my mom hardly ever cooked. My dad had a taste for restaurant food (NOT fast food), so he often took us out for meals. He didn't do much else with me; he was an older father, so he didn't have the energy to go walking or riding bikes or playing ball with me. Aside from one time playing Frisbee together and a lot of trips to the bowling alley, most of what we did together was eat. When he wasn't cooking fancy meals and appetizers at home, he'd take us out for deep fried jumbo butterflied shrimp, filet Mignon, or lasagna. Ohhh, the memories. And that's what hit me when I Googled the restaurants in my hometown area.

Suddenly I was flooded with memories and emotions surrounding food. There was a certain ice cream parlor he'd always take me to to celebrate special occasions, like my first violin concert at 7 years old. There was the fancy Italian place we'd drive to once a year to look at the historic photos on the walls and delve into pasta and garlic bread. I remember the last meal I had with my dad at a certain diner where we sat and talked and he ate creamed chipped beef on toast just weeks before he died. And the little restaurant he'd take my mom and me to almost every week, where he'd order sharp cheese and pickles for an appetizer and a Reuben sandwich for his main course. Practically every restaurant listing I saw had specific memories attached to it, of time spent with a father who was gone too soon.

And my mother, too... we had our special haunts. Ever since I was a small child we'd make runs to the drive thru for hoagies and orange slushie floats together, and when she died, I, in the depths of despair, drove through there alone for that meal and sobbed while I ate it. The donut shops, the pizza parlors. Every place a memory trigger, prompting recollections of good times gone by and loved ones lost.

For 20 years I've lived 3000 miles from where I grew up... far from the certain foods we used to eat, far from those memories. If you've never moved from one area to another far distance place, you may not know that there are a lot of foods you might get back east that you can't get out west and vice versa. The sodas I grew up drinking are absolutely unavailable anywhere near where I live. The Tastycakes of my childhood can't be found anywhere near my adulthood home. And if you've every had real New York pizza, or bagels, or cheesecake, or a real Philly cheesesteak, you probably know that the imitations you find in the west are nothing like the real thing. Not even close.

And so as I looked down the lists of restaurants and remembered all those great times with my parents, I immediately wanted to go to ALL of those places and eat ALL of the foods I ate with my mom and dad. I wanted to eat every food that I loved in my childhood and haven't tasted in 20 years and won't have a chance to taste again perhaps for another 20. I started feeling nutso and thinking I HAD TO go to each place and eat each thing *in order to connect with my parents and my past.*

Think about that for a minute.

I can't go see my mom. My parents don't even have graves. I can't go back to my house. I can't see childhood friends. So, to ME, I can connect with my Dad by going to THAT restaurant and eating a Reuben sandwich. THAT makes me feel close and connected to him. I can connect with my Mom my going to THAT hoagie shop and getting an orange slushie. THAT is almost like having her back in my life, even if just for a minute. It's almost like getting them back from the dead for a bit.

As I felt my excitement build, I started wanting to eat and eat and eat before I even got on the plane! I sat down and ate a bowl of cherries... maybe a cup and a half... until I was almost stuffed. And then I felt sane again.

So yeah. I am out here, and I've had a bit of pizza and some special foods my cousins cooked for us. I've had an ice cream cone of that special brand and flavor I can't get at home, and I went to that special donut shop to show my kids what it's like and eat one of those great donuts I used to love. One, not a dozen like I ate when my mother died. And sometime next week I might even go get an orange slushie in my mom's memory. But I can't go to every restaurant. I can't eat every food I remember having with them. It won't bring them back, anyway. No matter how much I eat, they'll still be dead.

Instead, I'm focusing on the other memories. I can talk to my Mom's sister about the goofy things they did as a child. I can go to the petting zoo we went to when I was little. I can take a walk in the woods where I once walked to see my Grandma. And I can embrace what I do have... loving cousins and aunts, and especially my children who are getting a taste of my childhood... and not just from eating. From loving. From living.

I Ate a Burger

...and it was DISGUSTING!!

I may never eat hamburger again.

Last night, trying to fill a need for calories, fat and protein in a cheap delicious way, I decided to cook up some ground beef patties. It fit into my calories just fine and I was craving MEAT, so I smashed some ground beef onto a thick slice of sweet onion, seasoned it, and set it in a pan to fry. Drained off the grease and topped it with avocado, with a side of steamed broccoli and some ketchup.

Yuck!! Can I just say that I think I am SO OVER ground beef?? I don't know what it was about this burger that sicked me out so bad. I was starving but about halfway through, I went, ew. I don't like this. But I kept taking bites "trying" to like it. Besides, I usually *love* a burger cooked this way with these sides. But the meat was tasteless and greasy, heavy with a nasty, chewy-ish texture. BUT I ATE IT ALL. When I was done I thought I might throw up. And I thought, "what the heck am I doing? That was nasty. What a waste of calories." I ate it because I was hungry and didn't have another protein source readily available (already had eggs earlier that day) and I wanted to just EAT and be done with dinner. I didn't listen to my body. My stomach felt icky for an hour afterwards and it took FOREVER to digest.

What I learned from this experience.

1. Listen to your body. If your mouth and stomach say "ew," STOP EATING!
2. My tastes have changed. What I really wanted was a plate of squash but I knew I needed more calories and protein than that. I need to keep chicken breast and fish on hand. One can only handle so many eggs.
3. I do not like cheap ground beef!! Yuck!! It is so gross. I had been buying good quality beef on the rare occasions that I eat burger meat (extra lean organic or grass fed, or more often, bison meat). This time I went cheap. What a difference!!
4. Food really affects the body in so many ways. I went from feeling light and energized to feeling icky, heavy, and slow. Even this morning I feel clogged up and greasy from that meal. Will have a nice light breakfast to combat that. Probably a spinach smoothie.

I am leaving on vacation this week so am running around like crazy trying to get ready for a long trip and flight with kids, and my dog is sick this morning! I am worried to death about him... he is old and we adore him. I have someone hired to come visit him and care for him twice a day while we are gone, but he is just not acting right so I have to fit in a visit to the vet along with a trip to the dentist, the hardware store and soccer practice today. Wish me luck!

Crazy Pacing Insanity

There's this thing that happens sometimes. I guess I'd call it restlessness. Other people fidget, or twiddle their thumbs and tap their feet, stuff like that. It's a sense of needing to do *something* but not focusing on what it is. Me, when I get like that, it's usually because I have too many things to do and can't narrow down where to start. And when I get like that, I like to distract myself with food.

Maybe you've felt it too. For whatever reason, you have a sense of just wanting to eat something, but not focusing on just what it is. You pace around, back and forth to the kitchen, going from cabinet to cabinet, standing with the fridge door open and just staring in there hoping something yummy will jump out at you. If you've got junk in the house, this is the point at which it *will* make itself known and give you a battle. If not, it's easier to cope with. The smart thing to do in a situation like this is get out of the house and do something else. Take a walk, do some yard work. But if, for some reason, you cannot go out at the moment, it can be a battle.

Last night after a very good day eating-wise and 30 minutes getting my heart up with my new Wii Fit, I was feeling quite munchy. I wanted to eat, eat, eat. I kept eating healthy things like peaches, cantaloupe, salad, nuts, and carrots but wasn't really satisfied. I had the urge for CARBS! I decided I had enough calories left to have some potatoes for dinner. I'd saute baby red potatoes with onions and green beans, and add a slice of bacon for flavor. Yummy! I couldn't wait. With mostly green beans, I knew I could indulge in a decent volume of food with this dinner. Imagine my disappointment when I opened the bag of baby red potatoes and they were moldy!! They really were not salvageable, so I made the green beans with extra onions, no potatoes. But boy was I annoyed... I really wanted those carbs!!

After the green beans I wanted more. I had a 100-calorie pack of microwave popcorn. Lots of water. I still was pacing the kitchen (and really at this point I *needed* to get out, but was getting a child into bed in the midst of this). I found a teeny 80-calorie Luna bar and made myself a cup of tea to go with it, thinking that sitting down with a treat like that would help. But when it was eaten I wanted MORE to eat. Now you're going to roll your eyes at this, but there was *another* container of frosting left in the fridge (when I threw out that chocolate frosting the other day, I left the 1/3 can of vanilla in the fridge for the kids to use, since it was not "calling" to me). Well, it was calling to me now! Three frosted graham crackers later, I scooped it into the trash where it belonged in the first place! And then, I was able to stop. I counted up my calories for the day including *everything* and was still within my calorie goal: 1200 plus fruits/veggies (there was a *lot* of produce yesterday!)

I realized that my crazy pacing insanity and wanting food was stemming from mild anxiety about my upcoming vacation. I have *so* much to do before I go next week, things to buy, stuff to pack, planning to do. I didn't even know where to start. So last night I sat down and made myself a list of what I would accomplish today. And I slept much better last night! Today I have focus, and I now exactly what I need to do to stay on track getting ready for the trip. There's no more junk in the house at all. And the scale was down another pound this morning.

7/16, babies all flown the coop. Only two weeks ago they were eggs!! Big changes can happen in such a short time :)

Supportless IRL

I was sitting here pondering how tired I am, how much stuff there is to do, how I wish I had more energy to put towards the weight loss. And I figured something out that might have been apparent to others, but wasn't *really* in my head yet. I am weary and I need support in real life. I love the support I get online... great for keeping my spirits up. But some days I sit down and look at the piles of dishes, the laundry, the housework, all the errands I have to run, raising five kids, and I think, "dude, I just need someone to help me with all this."

It feels unfair, that I have no Grandparents to pawn my kids off on... ever. Not even once a year. My parents are dead, father-in-law too, and the mother-in-law is 2000 miles away in a nursing home with Alzheimers. I get insanely jealous when I hear other couples talking about going off on weekends together while the kids stay with Grandma, or how their Mom watches the kids for them so they can go to the gym. I don't have any brothers or sisters, and my in-laws are very distant, so my kids don't even have aunts or uncles who could take them once in awhile. When it's Christmas, or Thanksgiving, we do it alone at our house. There's no travelling to family parties. No one celebrating with us. And when I just need a shoulder to lean on, I can't turn to a sister or a brother or anything like that. It's just me and the kids. Yeah, I am married, but I'm alone almost all the time. And it's really draining on a person.

This is not what I bargained for when I had my children. Things were different then, and I had a very supportive group of "family-like" friends and a moderately supportive husband at the time. Stuff happened, we moved, life changed a lot. And now I am pretty much on my own, day after day. It's pretty tough, physically AND emotionally, having no one to rely on but myself. Especially with the kids.

Some days (like today), I really *need* to take some time for myself, sit down and take a load off and let *someone else* take care of things. Let someone else run the kids to their appointments, cook up the meals, go shopping, do the housework. I'd just like to be able to let my guard down for a day and know things aren't going to fall apart without my attention.

I think that's why a strong marriage and family is so important (IMO). I can't meet every need my children have. And I can't meet all of my *own* needs, either. I wish someone would just give me a hug once in awhile, tell me I am doing okay, and say "hey go take a walk. I'll take care of dinner." Boy, that would be heaven. But it isn't like that. I've been trying to find other things to "refill my well" as they say. A counselor is fine, paid help is nice, but there really is nothing like having someone who loves you to help you out or listen to you. A husband, a Mom, a sister, an Aunt. Nothing like real, tangible love from someone you know cares.

That's what's missing in my life. That, most likely, is what has driven my binge eating disorder. It's no coincidence that I started overeating and gaining weight when my first marriage was deteriorating. And the binges came into full swing when I got divorced. I never felt so alone, so overwhelmed.

My kids are (mostly) older now, not as needy and more helpful, so I generally don't feel overwhelmed. But I do feel lonely. I do wish someone would give me a hug once in awhile. My kids keep me afloat, but your young child cannot really support you emotionally. They shouldn't have to.

I think this is really the whole base of the bingeing. I want. I eat. It isn't food that I want... but food is easier to get than love and support. Filling the sense of Want with food doesn't work long term. It just screws things up.

I don't know what the solution is, and I'm not asking for suggestions. But knowing that THAT is what is *really* going on makes me more likely to say, "No, you don't need ice cream. Ice cream can't hug you or do the dishes for you or tell you that you're a good person. Quit treating food like a lover." Oreos are not my mother. A Reuben sandwich is not my father. Fried chicken is not my sister. Pretending doesn't make it so.

I won't find what I want at McDonald's or Pizza Hut or in the bakery section of the grocery store. Perhaps I will, someday, find the kind of support I long for... but in case that never happens, I just have to learn to be content with what I have, and rejoice in the good things in life I've been given. I adore my children, and that alone gives me a great deal of peace and strength. Hopefully, as I continue to grow stronger in my resolve to be well, I will be able to find a resolution to this great sense of desire for connection that has threatened to consume me for so long.

I feel so much better already, just writing this! And now I am off to bike.

Weigh In

Well, after that craziness yesterday I was able to keep it together and stay reasonable with my eating: 1201 calories plus fruits & veggies. I am probably eating 400 or more calories of produce, so no worries I am going too low.

This morning I biked 30 minutes while watching Clifford on PBS with my little girl. Not exactly riveting, but hey, it gets the biking done without much interruption! I did 6.2 miles on 4-5 resistance. It seemed harder today than yesterday and I felt a bit tired. I will be taking Sunday off from biking. I plan to try some new exercise today, probably my new resistance bands I bought to take with me on vacation.

It's been one week today since I stepped on the scale and gasped in horror when I saw 245 pounds. I turned it around that very day, and have been counting calories and biking all week. I've had some indulgences (which you know about if you've been reading) but stayed in the calorie range I was aiming for.

Today's weigh in: 239
Loss this week: 6 pounds

I am very pleased with this and plan to continue with what I am doing. I know I won't lose 6 pounds every week; in fact, my pattern in the past is that I lose a good chunk of weight twice each month in direct correlation with my monthly "female" cycle: I drop a few pounds right after my cycle starts, and then I stay the same for 10 days or so. Then I drop a few pounds mid-cycle, then stay the same for almost 2 weeks. When I realized that this is my body's pattern when I am eating healthy, I was able to feel good about the "plateaus" where the scale didn't budge for a week or two, because I knew exactly when to expect the losses. I hope to lose 5 more pounds this month.

Baby Robins, 7/15, 13 days old.


After I took that picture, one of the babies flew out into the yard! I went downstairs and saw the remaining two babies peeking at me:

The little guy who "flew" out was over near the garden. My daughter and I sat on the porch swing watching his parents fly around bringing him worms and encouraging him to fly. He fluttered around the yard, trying to perch on my kids' swingset. After awhile he got better at it and actually flew over the fence into the neighbor's yard! His parents flew over with him to keep watch.

The other two babies stayed by the nest and were still there in the evening.

I Had a Moment

This afternoon, I had one of those defining moments where a split second decision is desperately important. It was a moment with chocolate frosting.

My daughter had three cupcakes leftover from her birthday party, where a large pack of toddlers and preschoolers decorated naked cupcakes with pre-made frostings, candies, and sprinkles shaped like butterflies and flowers. It was a great activity for the party, and not something that tempted me in the least (because while I have eaten a batch of frosting by myself more than once, it was always homemade). I would generally say I don't "like" that canned stuff at all. So, as I was saying, we had 3 cupcakes left, and the leftover containers of chocolate and vanilla frosting sat in the fridge waiting to be used on a cupcake or a graham cracker by one of my kids. Until today.

After lunch my daughter asked if she could make herself a cupcake. I got out the cold chocolate frosting and nuked it for 11 seconds to soften it up. I opened the lid and started to stir it. And I had the most unsettling reaction as the scent of warmed chocolate frosting hit me.

That switch I talked about in my earlier post today? Yeah, that switch, I could feel it getting flipped back. The smell, the sight of the creaminess, the way the light reflected off its glossy surface. I had this sort of flashbacky type of feeling, how great it feels to eat that stuff *in the moment* and right then I WANTED IT. I felt my brain slipping into that very strange place it goes when I am about to binge. I dished a bit of frosting out for my child, and then I looked at the half-full container and I thought, "I am going to eat this whole container of frosting RIGHT NOW." In just a few seconds my head was spinning with visions of the remaining two cupcakes smothered in 3 inches of frosting; of heaping spoonfuls of thick, glossy chocolate going into my mouth; of an empty container in front of me. I shook it off and stuck the container back in the fridge, but I WANTED IT.

Parts of me battled that old familiar battle, with the same old lame arguments in my head:
I can eat that and then start over.
I still ate healthy *most* of the day.
I wonder if I can go to the bakery and get a whole cake to eat?
I could eat crap for a few days and then get back on track.
I won't lose weight anyway.
I have to eat that frosting.

I sat down and was typing a message to a friend, still having major frosting distraction, when it hit me: a split second of determination. I've talked about this before on my blog: how all you need to really succeed is a SPLIT SECOND of determination to throw out the candy bar, smash the cake down the kitchen drain, put the Doritos back on the shelf. One split second. And in that split second I dashed to the kitchen, got the frosting out, grabbed a spoon, and scooped it out into the trash. As fast as I was able, I threw trash on top of it, and stuck the loaded spoon into a sinkfull of soapy water. And it was done.

But it seemed like it took forever, and it felt like two people fighting inside me over that container of frosting. Part of me was yelling "don't do it!! Don't throw it out! Stop! Stop!" in complete horror as the chocolatey goodness plopped into the trash can. It was like on those cop shows on TV or in the movies where the drug addict's girlfriend grabs his dope and flushes it down the toilet, and the druggie runs to the bathroom, kneeling over the swirling toilet screaming, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! How could you do that!?! What have you done???" It was like that, only I was both people. A huge part of me was trying to eat that frosting, but some small part of me just FORCED my arms to get rid of it.

Yeah, it's ideal to never put that kind of trigger in the house, but life happens. I've made a decision to let my kids have their cake and ice cream once in awhile, and not to try and stop everyone around me from eating pizza. I am responsible for *MY* behavior. And I am proud of my victory today.

Tomorrow (Thursday) will be one week since I started calorie counting and exercising again. I am excited to step on the scale and see if the results are showing yet!

Flipped Switch

I'm feeling really good here today. Amazing what just a few days of eating right and exercise can do. It's like the brain switch has flipped again. You know what I mean? It's like there are two mindsets: the eat-junk, don't-care mindset (aka "I'm Not Ready"), and the eat-healthy, love-life mindset (aka "I Feel So Great!"). When you're fat and doing the on-again, off-again "dieting", it is easy to flip back and forth between the two mindsets. Anything can trigger a switch flip, from having "just one" cupcake to looking in the mirror and going, "ARGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" It just takes a second to flip that switch, and it can take a lot of work to flip it back.

I guess for the last few months I have mostly been in the Not Ready camp, even though I was giving halfhearted efforts... and even some really STRONG but short-lived efforts... every so often. I just wanted cookies more than I wanted to lose weight, really. I mean, we tell ourselves we really want to lose weight but some days it's just easier to order a pizza. The binge-trigger factor adds in a whole new dimension, though, and even when I *really really* do want to eat right, sometimes I just flip out and start eating like a nut because of some stress or emotional trigger. But I'm working on that.

A couple of days ago I just said, enough. Enough!! I am so sick of seeing the scale go up. I have got to give this 100%. And so I started my "count calories but not the calories in fruits and veggies" plan. And I started being more consistent with the exercise. I feel so much better already.

This week I made some great adjustments and choices without depriving myself. A few examples:

One day, my husband brought home a TON of Chinese take-out. He'd said he was going out for it, asked what I wanted. I told him I'd like an order of Chicken and Pea Pods. Not a bad option... white chicken meat strips, snow pea pods, carrots, onions, bamboo shoots, and water chestnuts. I figured if I went without the rice, the oily "sauce" would be negligible. When he arrived, he brought my order... AND: ham fried rice, pork fried rice, white rice, egg rolls, fried cream cheese wontons, chicken curry, fried chicken wings, and sweet and sour (deep fried) pork. Oh man!! But you know what? I resisted. I ate my chicken and veggies and 1/3 cup of fried rice. And I was fine. Although I shudder to think of what my husband's arteries must look like. Thank goodness my kids don't like that stuff.

Another day, we went out for a special birthday dinner. I got to choose the restaurant so I picked one with fresh fish. We shared an appetizer that was made from beef tenderloin (I had about 2 oz) and then I ordered the halibut and asked the server to skip the rice, add extra veggies. I had unsweetened iced tea to drink. And then we shared a dessert: Irish Cream Chocolate Mousse. Divine! A few bites was enough for me! I went home feeling indulged but not stuffed.

On my birthday last year, my "birthday cake" was one Oreo Cakester with a candle in it. I split it with my children. In similar fashion, this year my kids took a cupcake leftover from my daughter's birthday, decorated it and put 4 candles on it (since I turned 40). After the mandatory singing and candle-blowing-out festivities, I cut the cupcake into tiny wedges and shared it with my family. My "birthday cake" indulgence was about 35 calories.

Today I got up, had my tea, and hopped on the bike. I am not especially fond of watching Sesame Street while I bike, but it kept my daughter entertained and I was able to do 6.5 miles in 30 minutes, on 4-5 resistance. Then I made breakfast: I chopped some baby pattypan squash, sauteed it in water with baby spinach, added 1 tsp olive oil and Egg Beaters, seasoned the scramble with Mrs. Dash and onion powder, and topped it off with an ounce of grated cheddar. Divine! I feel amazing. The brain switch is complete.

I know there will be times I *want* junk. I know I'll be tempted and tried with all sorts of goodies, especially on vacation this year. But I'm gonna work my hardest to stay in the healthy eating mindset I am enjoying right now and not let that switch flip back again.

Success and Jealousy

When I started this weight loss blog, I did it for *me.* It didn't matter if anyone read it, whether they liked it or not, or what anyone thought of me. I didn't care if people told me I'd never succeed or that I was doing it all wrong. I was just here to write down what I was doing, how I felt, and what worked and didn't work for *me.* The readers and the support I got along the way was a wonderful surprise, and I love how caring people are. I love getting to know people through their comments and their blogs, too.

And I get emails, sometimes, telling me that reading my blog inspired someone to start losing weight themselves. That because I could do it, they felt they could do it too. And I feel so happy knowing that somewhere out there, a few people actually changed their lives for the healthier because of something I wrote.

But I also see people surpassing me on the weight loss front, and I have such mixed feelings about it. Just like in real life, when you have a fat friend who decides to go on a diet, you feel happy for them... yet somehow a little jealous, or even threatened if they are succeeding and you're not. I've lost friends as I lost pounds because *I* was losing and *they* were not... even though I sent no judgement or negativity their way. I've had people tell me that they feel happy for my success yet angry, too, because they can't seem to lose weight like I have. And I've had friends who lost weight while I stayed fat. It's a guilty feeling when you look at your friend and think, "gosh, I feel like such a slacker now that they are thinner and I stayed fat. It makes me feel like a failure." I've even had people tell me they hoped I'd stop losing weight because it made them feel bad about themselves.

There's something really basic and human about those feelings. We can be glad for the good that happens to others yet jealous in a way because we want it for ourselves. Like the 30-something woman watching as all her friends get married and have babies... there is joy but sadness. Maybe you want it too. You wonder what's wrong with you, whether you'll ever find the right guy, whether you'll ever have a family. You feel your biological clock ticking. Always the bridesmaid...

Oh, I know there are women who don't want to get married or have kids, just as there are women who don't want to lose weight. Nothing wrong with that. But I am talking about those base emotions we all have when we see someone else achieving what we so desperately want. It's tough. And it makes us feel guilty.

I have gotten several emails, and comments as well, from people who started losing weight after reading my blog a year or 18 months ago. They've lost the weight, they're happy, they thank me for the inspiration. I read blogs of people who *started* losing weight long after I started, who have reached maintenance, who are going strong. And here I sit, still fat. Still struggling. It's hard. I am glad for them, yet it makes me ache inside. I want it, too. But I haven't worked hard enough for it to get it. Still, it gives me that same feeling in the pit of my gut... the feeling I used to have when I'd see pregnant women walking down the street or new mothers carrying their tiny babies after I'd had a miscarriage. Not that I want to take away their joy. But... well, you know what I mean.

I remember when I was still losing steadily, and I'd get emails from people saying, "It makes me so jealous that YOU have lost the weight and I am still fat!" I had total compassion for those people. I wanted to bring them along with me. But I couldn't, anymore than those of you who've been successful with weight loss can bring me along with you. We all have to take each step for ourselves. We have to do our own work.

I'm sure I will lose the weight. I know I will. And I would wager I won't be obese anymore by this time next year. Slow and steady, step by step. I won't give up. I'll cheer you on as you succeed. I'll use your success as inspiration, as many of you used mine. Better to see the success of others as motivation, rather than becoming discouraged. We can ALL reach our goals. Do the work. The results will come.

Calories yesterday: 1359 plus fruits/vegs. Biked 30 minutes (6 miles, resistance 3-4) and walked 15 minutes.
Doing great on the calories today so far. Already biked 30 minutes (6.1 miles, resistance mostly 4 with a bit of 5) and will walk to the park later.

Baby Robins, 7/13, 11 days old:

When I was walking into the house, they'd just been fed and were peeking over the edge of their nest at me. I *think* there are still 3 babies in there, but it's really hard to tell:

Today, 12 days old. I think they'll be flying the coop in a day or two:

Self-Medication

A few weeks ago, I was talking with a friend. She is naturally thin... quite slim, in fact, despite having given birth to three children and being about my age. We were talking about the stresses in our lives (there are rather unique challenges that we share, both having children ranging from preschoolers to kids in their late teens), how we are tired and feeling a bit overwhelmed lately. As we were walking to our cars, I said, "I think I need an iced mocha." She responded, "Oh, I feel that way too. But I hate to self medicate."

Interesting.

I have to wonder if it all boils down to simple self-medication. When I feel sad, or stressed, or anxious, I want to *do* something about it. And that *something* is generally to eat. Eat something that makes me feel better. Like a pill for a headache, a donut soothes my nerves, calms me down, helps me take the focus off my problems for just a little while. Like an aspirin for an ache. Like a drink after a hard day's work. Like a line of cocaine to a stressed college student.

It's all self medicating. Does everyone do it, in some form? Take care of your own pains and worries with *something*? I guess some people deal with their problems head-on, or use things like exercise or relaxation to cope. It's those unhealthy coping mechanisms... drugs, alcohol, smoking, binge eating... that are a detriment And it's the people who self-medicate to excess with food who become obese, or bulimic.

It seems unfair to me sometimes, how other people can have their problems like gambling or sleeping around or drinking to excess, and they still look pretty normal to your everyday stranger. Sure, their behaviors may lead to unpleasant consequences... bankruptcy, STDs, problems on the job... but no one walking past them on the street would know they even have a problem. No one nods hello to the clean cut man in a business suit at the bus stop and thinks, "wow, I bet he is an alcoholic." But they walk past me, and my out of control behavior is plastered all over my body. My fat rolls are like a billboard to the world: "Look at me, I can't even control what I put in my mouth." I realize that there are obese people who have some kind of health condition or whatever, and don't binge. But I also know that people look at the obese and judge. They see my weight and wonder what the heck I ate to get this big. And I hate that any stranger on the street can look at me and assume... correctly, in my case... that I ate a whole lot of junk. That my eating is out of control. That I have issues. I hate that.

But my thin friend, she recognized in herself a tendency to self medicate on occasion with food or drink. She made a decision to be aware of it and curtail it. She uses her faith, her friends, her activity to deal with stress instead. I wonder if most thin people do that. I really don't know.

It took me a long time to realize that I was eating to numb my emotional distress. But now that I am self-aware, I can make better decisions on how I deal with it.

Baby Robins, 7/12, 10 days old:

Eating MORE!

I'm having that day of rest I so badly needed, and I am feeling 100% better already! I was in a great deal of pain and having difficulty walking yesterday afternoon, so I took some pain medication, stayed off my feet, and took a good, long soak in the tub with these ginger-and-tangerine bath salts (heavenly, and they work, too). I went to bed early and my daughter, who usually wakes me up well before 6am, actually laid down with me and we slept until 7:30!! I've had an easy day, just doing 2 loads of laundry and the dishes... mostly resting. My knees feel SO much better already. I am planning my bike ride tomorrow! I actually *feel* like doing it now, but knowing my knees, I am pretty sure I'll be better off waiting.

I've had a healthy eating day, too, and I'd like to send out a big *thank you* to Becky aka moonduster over at Skinny Dreaming. If you are in need for some major weight loss inspiration, head over to her blog and take a look at these stunning before-and-afters of her 100 pound weight loss. She's a great lady with 7 children and just a lovely person all around. Anyway, Becky left me a comment that set off a light bulb in my head. You know how I had so much success with calorie counting, right? And also with eating a ton of fruits and veggies from the Farmer's Market, right? But I got sick of the measuring and weighing and counting and logging to the point that I quit. I always think, "should I go back to counting calories again, or should I just try and eat more fruits and vegetables?" It's so tedious to me to measure out every grape, cup of salad, strip of pepper, and mushroom that I get annoyed and stop.

BUT!!!

Becky said... "I try to only consume 1,200 to 1,550 calories a day with one exception - I NEVER count the calories in fruit and vegetables (with a few exceptions like avocado and such). It encourages me to eat more fruit and veg, and it's working for me (109 lbs down so far). So, I can have a giant bowl full of raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, cherries, melon and strawberries, pour a 100 calorie fat free vanilla yogurt over it all, and I still only count it as 100 calories."

Ding ding ding!! We have a winner! Why didn't I ever think to do this?? It's a great idea. You count all the heavy stuff, the extra stuff... but you get free access to fruits and vegetables. This totally regulates the binge monster, makes sure you don't take in too many empty calories, and pushes you to eat more produce which is *good* for you. Ahhh. Thank you Becky, I am on it already. This, I can do.

So today I've eaten nuts, tea, a waffle, 2 sausages, a lot of watermelon, some spinach and strawberry salad with balsamic vinaigrette and sliced almonds, a banana, a few pretzels and an ounce of cheese. I am so happy I could shriek. But that would scare the kids. So I will just silently revel in my new "freedom" to eat AS MUCH AS I WANT as long as it is stuff my body really needs. Awesome!

I will stick with this through the summer and then if I need to reevaluate, I will. But anything is better than gaining, so if this helps me eat more nutritiously and lose slowly, I am thrilled.

Moderation

I am really enjoying all the insightful comments you guys are leaving. Thanks so much! Lots to think about.

I am pretty sure my old "plan" worked just fine and would continue to work if I worked it. (Plan working = weight loss; Me working the plan = actually doing it instead of eating healthy half the time and junk the rest of the time). Counting calories flat out works for me. It's simple, I can afford to enjoy just about any food in moderate portions, yet it encourages vegetable consumption because they are so bulky and low in calories. And biking/strength training works for me too, and makes me feel so strong and energized!

For the past few days I have pretty much been on my feet working (with short breaks) from morning til night. Last night I crashed into bed around midnight, and this morning I was doing dishes and mopping the floor by 8am. (I am really *not* a neat freak. My general rule is: vacuum twice a week, mop once a week, bathrooms scrubbed once a week. Everything else as needed. Although I could use a good decluttering). By 3pm today I was limping. Usually if I overdo it, I am limping/hobbling in the evening after 8... so this "early onset limp" tells me that I need to cut back and rest a bit. In fact, I am so sore, stiff, achey and in pain that I have been on my butt for 2 hours now and plan to take it easy all day tomorrow. Need to let the body heal up a bit.

It's hard to find balance, for me. Do too much, do too little. Days of whirlwind activity and no rest, or days of sitting on the sofa for hours (this occurs mostly in the winter). I tend to let things go if I can, and then at the last minute I am rushing around in a frenzy trying to get everything done by whatever deadline there is. This is not moderate, and it doesn't help me incorporate exercise and healthy eating.

Look at it this way. Say that in a week's time, you need to do 10 loads of laundry along with all your other household chores. You have a few choices:

Do one or two loads every day.
Do 3 or 4 loads every other day.
Do five loads twice a week.
Do all ten loads in one day.

What do *you* tend to pick? Me, I am a "five loads twice a week" kind of gal. I don't want to do laundry every day; in fact, I want to have more days where I *don't* think about laundry than days I do. Five loads in a day is a little annoying, but doable... it does force me to make sporadic trips up and down the stairs and fold laundry every couple of hours all day long twice a week, and I don't really like that either. So on rare occasion, I skip one of those days of 5 loads, and I end up at the end of the week with 10 loads to do in one day. Good heavens, it is NO fun. It takes startinga load as soon as I wake up and folding laundry until midnight to get it all done. And I get hardly anything else done on a day like that. So I try to avoid doing that if at ALL possible.

Now, how this ties in to weight loss and fitness: if a person keeps putting things off so that they have those ten-load days *often* (not just laundry, but other stuff, like dishes or shopping or cleaning or other projects), then they spend a lot of days racing around trying to complete stuff that should've been done days ago. They don't "have time" for exercise or food prep or relaxation or even sleep, because they "have to" stay up late getting x y z done. And then when they are FINALLY done, they are so exhausted they just sit and watch TV or read or do some other "checking out" behavior for a few days, at which point they "wake up" and go, "oh my gosh, I have GOT to to the laundry/dishes/mopping/etc!!" And the chaos begins again.

The key to breaking out of this kind of living is balance... something I need to work on. By spreading out the workload over several days instead of trying to do it all in one day, you free yourself to have *more* time to relax, enjoy life, and actually get more done with less effort. Including fitting in exercise. So I am aiming to do a reasonable amount of work each day, some exercise, and even some time to relax... every day.

The robin babies are morphing into birds right before my eyes! Take a look at these pictures, and then scroll back and look at them just one week ago! Wow! What a huge change!

Baby robins, 1 week old, 7/9:

8 days old: Does this guy actually *look* like a Robin now or what??

9 days old (today): Guess they figured out I am not bringing them any worms. Nice feathers, huh?
Have a great... moderately productive... moderately relaxing... weekend!

Moving Along...

Wow, so many wonderful, amazing, supportive comments came in yesterday from you guys! It really touched me and did help me veer back on course. How could I go to Dairy Queen with so many people rooting for me to succeed?? I couldn't. Thank you.

I did a little better yesterday. My food choices were less than stellar, but far less quantity calorie-wise:

Breakfast: Chai tea and a whole fresh mango
Midmorning: sugar free iced coffee
Lunch: 1 hot dog on a bun w/ketchup & mustard, 1/2 of a small iced mocha
Dinner: slice of whole wheat bread with natural almond butter and low sugar strawberry jam, and a smoothie made from orange juice, low fat milk, ice, and 1/2 c ice cream
Evening: small slice of carrot cake

This was only about 1600 calories total, which is the least amount of food I have eaten this week. I went to bed hungry for the first time in ages. So it was a start, although not great nutrition wise it was enough to see the scale go back down a bit this morning. I am so unfocused right now that my food intake may not always be the greatest, but the least I can do is keep it under 1800 calories a day.

I am totally not getting enough sleep. I could make it on five hours when I was in my teens and 20's, but I am coming up on 40 and to be honest, I just don't function well on less than 7-8 hours anymore. We 'old folks' need our rest! I have been trying to get to bed earlier (before 11) because sleeping in is not an option (kids). Getting up earlier to exercise would be, I think, counterproductive at this point. I believe I would lose weight better if I got enough sleep. The exercise has to come sometime in my already-waking hours.

I wanted to give a little peek into my life, here, for a minute. I think sometimes people don't realize that I am *really* active most days, to the point of exhaustion. Suggestions that I be more active make me think I haven't really explained this part of my life, so let me share! Almost every day... probably 6 days a week... I *do* walk my kids to the park to play. This is something I could not do 2 years ago, and I used to cry because I was 37 and had a little girl who I physically could NOT walk to the park just a couple of blocks away! It was so shameful to me. But as soon as I built up the endurance and lost enough weight to make it there, I kept the habit. So except for winter, I am out there walking to the park. I also am responsible for all the yardwork. I do get lots of help from my 2 boys who are home right now; they mow and weed whack and help with other tasks, but I am out there working a lot. Plus the housework.

Lemme give you yesterday. I was up early, then out shopping and running errands for a couple of hours. Walking through large warehouse stores, getting a child in and out of the car, taking her to gymnastics. It was pretty busy. Came home and cleaned. I live in a house where the laundry room is on a separate floor from the kitchen, and to go outside you have to take a dozen stairs. So I get lots of stair action each day. I vacuumed and dusted and did dishes. I was sweating when I got done. Then it was off to the kids' swimming lessons which involves walking up and down a steep hill from the parking lot. When we got home, we ate, and then out the door we went to do yardwork. We pulled weeds and picked up the yard and I washed the front of the house and the porch. Again, I was sweating when I was done. And limping, from being on my feet all day. By 9 I had come back in and gotten my daughter to bed, and then had to take the stairs a few more times for laundry. Evening was spent making birthday plans, phone calls, sorting paperwork, etc.

So you see, I am already active and busy. When I say I have a hard time fitting in "exercise," I mean that in between all this, for me to try and hop on the bike for 30 minutes is difficult for me. I am physically limited by my knees, and I am just plain busy. By 9pm when I *could* exercise, I am totally wiped out and limping (in case you haven't read, I have severe degenerative arthritis and need knee replacements, and it is frankly a miracle I am functioning as well as I am). Not making an excuse here. Just sayin. Sometimes ya gotta stop. So the exercise has to come early in the day unless I have a *slow* day without being on my feet a lot.

Speaking of being on my feet... about the blogging. More than once, folks have suggested that I'd have time to bike or whatever if I didn't blog. Well, that's not really true. Because of the nature of my joint disease, I physically *have* to sit down and take breaks off my feet several times throughout the day. And when I sit down for breaks I do things like: pay bills, read to my child, play Play Doh, and BLOG. Those are the times I sit down and write, or read other people's blogs. When I am in between activity. I physically *could not* take that time to exercise, because I would end up on crutches. I have to be careful with the knees. And oh, by the way, I *love* my blog. It keeps my sanity. It helps me get things out of my head and discover more about what I need to change. And that's important to me. So I'm not gonna stop blogging anytime soon. What I *have* let go is the emails. I used to answer every single email I got (which is a lot of email). But for the past couple of months I have hardly answered any. I apologise for this. Really. I read every one, and they mean so much to me. But a lot of emails are sitting in my inbox unanswered because *something* had to give. It would take me about 4 hours to answer them all now, so that's something that I have to peck away at. One here, one there. I'm sorry if you wrote to me and felt sad when I didn't answer. Just know that I *did* read it, and feel it, but had to jump up and tend a kid or pull weeds or make dinner and let the answering slide. In the winter I have more time online. For now, I'm just swamped.

So... I feel like I am on the right track now. We have a lot going on this weekend, and the husband is leaving again. I do have a fun vacation planned with the kids, and I am super excited about that! Hoping for lots of hiking, lots of picnicking on the road and lots of happy memories!

Bird pictures later... have to go get some work done!

Eyes Open

So this morning, I stepped on the scale and to my horror (but not surprise) it said 245. This is the hell I didn't want to relive. This is what I have gone through over and over, every single time I lost weight in the past. And one that is common from what I've seen in the blogosphere. Lose weight, gain it back. Mine has been coming back very slowly, WITH a battle (because honestly, if I'd just given up 6 months ago I would be well over 300 pounds right now. I am not kidding). But the inching upwards of the scale is, I have to believe, something within my control. Something I can stop. That I have to stop.

If you have never lost a good chunk of weight and then regained it, let me tell you something. It is absolutely terrible to go through emotionally. The exhilaration of the loss is suddenly replaced by the feeling of spiraling out of control. Looking at the scale is a nightmare. Seeing one's body explode into fatness again is devastating. "Why why why??" resonates in your head every day. It's terribly painful and induces a lot of guilt feelings and little bouts of determination surrounded by drowning one's sorrow in donuts.

When I regained weight before after a loss, it was always *very* rapid. I'd take 6 months to lose 30 pounds and then regain it all plus 5 in under 2 months time. That's what happens when you go from eating a healthy, moderate intake to binge eating 5000 calories a day. This time, I haven't been bingeing, so the regain has been slow... and my efforts to re-lose have worked *somewhat* as my weight fluctuates down 5 or 7 pounds every so often. But because I haven't sustained the effort it takes to *lose*, the overall trend has been UP.

I think about how crazy busy I have been lately that I have not taken the time to exercise. How I am up before 6 every day and don't get to sleep until 1am because I am doing other things that just *have* to be done. And yet I am still behind. I try to figure out *what* to sacrifice so I can find time for *me*... do I tell my son I don't have time to take him for new glasses? Or maybe I should make my kids skip their dental appointments? Do I stop reading bedtime stories to my daughter or maybe quit making breakfast for the kids? What about the cars needing oil changes or tire rotations or the weeds that need to be pulled? Birthdays, holidays, sick pets, a gutted bathroom, carpet stains, swimming lessons, playtime at the park. It runs together and at the end of every whirlwind day I wonder where the time went. Having 5 kids is a true blessing but a lot of work and time. Yet I know I have to lose weight to be around and healthy for them.

One thing I gave up to lose weight was my hobby of baking. I am a darn good cook, and I used to bake 3 or 4 times a week! Sure, I can bake "healthier" versions, but with baking, it's not really the same nor as fulfilling as making the versions I'd perfected over time. And I tend to binge on baked stuff, even if it IS healthier, so I just don't bake. Except on birthdays:

Yeah. I had 2 small pieces of my homemade carrot cake. Enough to gain a couple of pounds overnight? Nah, not really, but the rest of the poor eating choices all week led to that gain I saw on the scale this morning.

As I told a friend today, I am done. Enough with the gains. I get this crazy feeling in my head sometimes that I *have* to eat junk. NEED it. Right now or I will just DIE. And it's at those times that I am going to have to white knuckle it and just say NO to myself. I would rather claw my eyes out than eat my way back up one more pound.

Baby robins, 7/7, five days old. Eyes are open. So are mine.
Babies, 6 days old:

Getting Fatter

Lately, I feel absolutely 100% fatter than I did 2 weeks ago. I dunno what it is about *this* weight... 240ish... that feels so enormous compared to 20 pounds ago, but I am starting to get flashbacks to my 280-pound days. Things like getting tired when I am going up and down stairs. Pain in my joints. Wanting to sit and/or sleep a lot (wanting to, but not being able to with children about). Not having many clothes that fit (having sold all my fat clothes). And yesterday, the ultimate insult: holes in the inner thigh of my pants. Ugh! I thought I was done with that...

In fact, I have glitched back to a bad habit I had way back... the habit of thinking of "on" or "off" a diet or eating plan rather than just seeing it as a lifestyle. I find myself thinking:

Oh, I can't "do it" today, I am too stressed out. When the bathroom is finished I will feel better and then I will "do it."

My kid's birthday is in a few days, and I have to bake a cake for her, and there will be ice cream and stuff, so I can't "do it" until that's over.

We are having people over for a party next week, and we have a menu plan that isn't very low calorie... so I need to wait to "do it" until after that.

My birthday is coming up soon, and my kids will probably make me a cake and take me to dinner and stuff, so I don't wanna "do it" before then.

We are going on vacation at the end of the month, and it's no fun to try and lose weight on vacation, and I won't be able to concentrate, so I will wait until we come back to "do it."

It's ridiculous. Setting up "weight loss" as an amorphous "it" that one must "do" as if it were a one-time task. It's not. What about all the time in between those events? Even if I plan to eat with complete abandon *on* those occasions, what sense does it make to eat junk on ALL the days and in ALL the hours *in between* these events? There is never a perfect time to "do it" and I will never be 100% motivated and energized to "do it." There are always excuses, from tragedies and health scares to the fact that there is a peanut butter cup in the freezer. "Oh, I can't 'do it' now, now with [this] looming. I'll 'do it' later."

And it never happens, and we stay fat, or get fatter.

I admit it. I am not focused. I am scattered all over the place with 'stuff.' My husband is back again, I have a lot of 'stuff' I am trying to get done. I tell myself I cannot focus or put forth the effort or it isn't a good time, and then I drink a milkshake. As if that is going to make it better.

I really want to turn this around. Before I end up 280 pounds again. It's not all that far off.

Baby robins, 4 days old:

Don't Eat It If You Don't Like It

When I was a kid, I was never forced to clean my plate like many of my peers were. I wasn't overweight, and I don't think I had food issues until I was in my 20's. I didn't get the standard parental guilt trip of starving children in Africa, and if I didn't finish my meal it was generally no big deal. It was sort of the way I handle my children's eating: try a bite, and if you don't like it that's fine. I always have a variety of foods available for dinner so there is always *something* the kids like on the table.

But when we were eating at someone *else's* house, my mother changed the rules on me. "Eat WHATEVER you are served," she said, "whether you like it or not. You eat EVERY bite, so you don't hurt someone's feelings." And I was to take anything that was offered, as well. The point was driven home one evening when I was about 8 years old. We had to go to Bible Study every week at a local pig farm, sitting through the stench of the hot, manure-infused summer breeze wafting through the living room. One evening at the end of Bible Study, the Pig Farmer's Wife, dressed in a red-and-white checkered apron over a polyester dress, came over to me and said, "would you like a bowl of ice cream?" Being 8, and not having developed binge eating disorder yet where I would eat anything sweet placed in front of me, I asked, "what kind?" She answered, "Neapolitan." It didn't sound good to me, I didn't really want it, so I replied, "no thank you." She smiled and trotted away to get ice cream for the other folks who wanted it.

I was perfectly fine not having ice cream but my mother was disgusted with me. "That was so rude!" she told me later. "You probably hurt her feelings. When someone offers you something you should NOT ask 'what kind.' You should just say 'yes, thank you' and eat whatever they have!" When I asked why, she said, "because they will feel bad that they didn't have the kind you wanted. And it's not nice to offend people."

Just eat, to make other people happy.

I remember when my Dad was in the hospital. He'd had a heart attack, something not exactly surprising given his history of smoking since he was just a child. Our friends were very kind and caring to my mother and I, inviting us over for dinner several days that week so we would have some company and not have to worry about a meal. There was an old lady who went to our church, who had been single all her life. She lived alone in a big house, and she made wine in her basement out of dandelions from her yard and all manner of fruit scavenged from local orchards. In fact, her basement was literally FULL of glass gallon jugs of wine. She also went 'round to all the neighbor's yards (including ours) and gathered black walnuts off the ground, taking them home and husking off the black, smelly fruit and green skins so she could pound the walnuts to pieces with a hammer on her sidewalk, and pick out the nutmeats to freeze. She'd always bring us a bag of those nuts, which my mother would mix into a box of brownie mix, resulting in brownies full of hard, sharp pieces of shells scattered throughout. But I digress.

This old lady invited us over for lunch one day. My mother graciously accepted, but we both knew we were in for a truly unique culinary experience. My mother informed me in advance that no matter WHAT Bessie served, I was to eat it. ALL of it. With a smile on my face. And I knew that's what I was expected to do, no exceptions.

We sat down at the dining room table and Bessie shuffled about, all excited to be serving company. "I made a salad!" she exclaimed, "with tomatoes, and onions...." and off she went to the kitchen to fetch the salads. I glanced at my mother and she hissed, "You eat EVERY BITE!" She knew how I *hated* tomatoes and onions. There was nothing in the world I hated worse than onions!! Even when we had spaghetti sauce, I would pick out every minuscule speck of onion before I would eat it. And raw onions? Out of the question. But here came Bessie with our salads, and plopped a generous, filled plate in front of each of us with a smile. She sat down to join us and we dug in.

The salad was frightening at best, not exactly clean, but edible. Except scattered across the salad were the biggest chunks of raw onion I had ever seen in a salad, before or since. I kid you not, these onion chunks were at least an inch square. And they were not the "sweet" variety; these were the hot, acrid, burn-your-eyes-out kind. I looked at my mother, who was eagle-eyeing me as she ate. I knew what had to be done.

I stabbed an onion chunk, I put it in my mouth. I made pretend chewing motions and then took a huge swig of water, swallowing the chunk whole. I repeated this process with what must have been a full third of a very large onion, taking bites of the rest of the salad in between. When my bowl was empty, I looked up and was met with my mother's approving smile. Bessie was happy. Mom was happy. I was miserable, with pains in my stomach that lasted for hours.

Eat it, even if you don't like it. Even if it makes you sick. Because you don't want to hurt someone's feelings.

After I became an adult, I realized that it is usually not necessary nor beneficial to eat stuff you don't like. It's always good to be polite, and I give my kids the same little speech before we go eat at someone else's house: be nice, do not complain, say thank you, do not say YUCK at the food. Try to eat some of what's offered. But I also tell them it is okay to say "no thank you" or to not finish what is put on their plates. And if they are permitted to serve themselves, I tell them to try a bite of new things, and just take as much as they think they'll eat. I don't make them clean their plates or eat stuff that they have to gag down. No point in that.

The same goes for me, now, in my own home. As strange as it sounds, I've had to re-learn *not* to eat stuff I don't really like or enjoy. Buy a piece of bakery cake that you think is gonna be great, take one bite and it is dry and flavorless? Guess what, you don't have to eat the rest. Throw it out. Make a new recipe and pile it on your plate in anticipation, only to take a few bites and decide you don't like it? Don't force it down. Stop eating. I used to eat stuff just because it was there. Not anymore. There are so many good things to eat, we may as well only eat things we like.

The same goes for vegetables. Don't like broccoli? Try something else. Cook it a different way. Eat cauliflower or spinach or artichokes instead. There are hundreds of vegetables out there to try. And each one can be prepared many ways: raw, steamed, baked, sauteed, roasted. Find the ones you like. They ARE out there.

Don't eat it if you don't like it. It's pointless, especially if you're trying to lose weight. And especially if it results in picking shards of walnut shells out of your teeth.

Babies, 3 days old:

Bird Update

Hope you are all having a fun and happy holiday weekend! Just a little birdie update for you...

A glimpse of mama bird (I assume it is mama, although papa is around too) with a little bitty worm in her beak, on her way to feed the brood:


My mini-dog is fascinated by the peeping sounds under the deck:


And here's the babies, 2 days old:


Growing and changing... getting stronger every day :)

Freedom

Happy 4th of July!! A lovely day to celebrate our freedom. We take it for granted in so many ways. In particular I was thinking about how free we are to eat, drink, relax, enjoy life... that we do not have to spend our days toiling in the sun to grow our food, slaughtering our animals for dinner, and cooking it over a fire. We are free, for the most part, *not* to be starving to death, unlike many other countries. We are free, because of technology, to have the luxury of "free time" even if it's only on the weekends, because we do not have to spend every waking hour exhausting ourselves to take care of our basic needs; we don't have to haul our water in buckets from a creek, walk outside and use an outhouse, heat water over a fire for our baths, wash our clothes by hand in a tub. We don't have to sew all of our own clothes and blankets. We don't have to care for horses and buggies and shovel poop every day just so we can have a ride to town rather than walking. And we don't even have to walk. In fact, some of us have to actually *schedule* a 30-minute walk into our day "for exercise." How blessed are we?

And how fat we have become as a result.

It's a privilege to have so much food that you can eat enough to get so fat, when a lot of the world is begging and scavenging and working for every bite for their families. It's a blessing and a curse... this freedom. Freedom to eat to excess, and for many, to laze at a desk job or on the sofa and never have to lift a finger but to turn on the dishwasher or take the clothes out of the dryer. How much we take for granted.

This Independence Day, I resolve to use my freedom for good. I am free to choose fresh fruits and vegetables and good quality foods to put into my body. I am blessed to never have to really worry about malnutrition. I am free to spend my time enjoying life instead of wondering each day if my children are going to go to bed hungry. And I know what a privilege that is.

Revel in your freedoms, whatever they may be! And use them for good.

(If you missed the Robins post yesterday, check it out so you know why I am posting pictures of birds on my blog!)

Babies, one day old, 7/3/09

Eggs and Me

Early in the spring, I noticed that a robin had built a nest on the underside of our backyard deck. It was a messy little nest, but the cool thing was that when she laid eggs and the babies hatched, we could watch them through a crack in the deck. My kids had so much fun watching them change each day. When they finally grew up and flew away, we were kinda sad.

Until we noticed...

More eggs....

...appearing in the nest. The first two arrived on June 19. The third, a day later. I decided to snap a picture of the eggs and resultant babies every day so I could share them with you and watch them grow on my blog.

They pretty much looked the same every day. One day my daughter decided to "feed" the eggs some dry pasta, and dropped several noodles into the nest before I noticed and told her we can't go dropping stuff in the nests. Apparently the mother bird did not like the pasta, because it was gone the next morning. I don't think she ate it.

Days and days went by and I kept taking pictures. (Imagine nine more pictures of 3 eggs here).
Until finally today...
.
.
.
.
babies!
Ew. Kinda ugly. Until they heard the click of my camera...


And then they got kinda cute :)
I'll add a picture of the robin babies each day, so we can watch them grow together.

Ya know, we are kind of like those eggs. They looked the same, day after day. Didn't seem like much was going on. And then BAM! Something totally new emerged.

I'm hatching, and growing feathers, and getting ready to fly! Watch me.

July 1, 2009: 241 Pounds

Oh dear... this is not going in the direction I'd like...

Up 2 pounds in June. Brief self-examination:

1) Yikes, I have to stop indulging so much, and get back into a regular exercise routine.
2) Congratulations, self. You have successfully slowed the regain to a near standstill. (I gained NINE pounds last month).
3) I have PMS, with the resultant bloating. Salt cravings are NOT helping. As you know if you've read this blog for any amount of time, during PMS I crave hot dogs and Pringles. Last night I *did* have hot dogs for dinner... low fat ones. But no Pringles. However, even though the low fat hot dogs fit into my calorie count ok, they are loaded with sodium and I am sure contributed to the bloating. Note to self: do not eat a ton of salt on the last day of the month. It screws with your weigh in. I was 237 a couple days ago.
4) I really had to swallow my pride a bit to post this weight today, especially since I know that if I drink a bunch of water and don't eat salt today I will drop about 3 pounds by tomorrow. And that would be a nicer weight to post. I coulda waited and done that but see, this blog is DIFFERENT. This blog is *not* about saving face, looking good, pretending to be something I am not, covering up mistakes, lying about what I ate, or disappearing for weeks and months when I am not doing well with weight loss. If you want a shiny pretty blog that only shows what happens when someone is doing GREAT, there are hundreds out there you can read. This one is ME, good and bad, stuff I am proud of and stuff I regret. All of it. And it's gonna be here whether I am 150 pounds or 350 pounds. It's the journey of my lifetime. And I really, *really* hope it helps me get where I want to be.

Now, about July.

July has been a difficult month for me for a couple of decades. In fact, a couple years ago I almost had an irrational dread of July. Let me explain.

I was born in July. Great month for a birthday! Unless your mother pulls the rug out from under you in Kindergarten by joining a religion that does not celebrate birthdays. Then, not so much. As a small child, July made me sad, as I *had* memories of birthday parties and feeling special on my birthday, which turned into just waiting and watching the day come and go without so much as an acknowledgment that I had come into the world on that day. I felt pretty insignificant on that day. Ignored. I got over it, and I didn't care when I was a teen, but as an adult (when I turned 18) I went into full-fledged "lose the religion, have a birthday party" mode. Then just a year later, something terrible happened.

I was very newly married... just 6 weeks or so... and my life was just wonderful. I was in love with my new husband, we were working the farm together, life was great! And I'd *just* found out I was pregnant (honeymoon baby)! We were over the moon. I was flying high every day, every minute, from the joy I was feeling. Until one morning I got the worst phone call of my life.

I was getting ready to go out to lunch with my husband. As I fastened my watch, the phone rang. I answered it with the usual smile in my voice. "Your father died," said the voice on the phone. "No he didn't!" I said in complete disbelief. "Yes, I'm sorry, but he did." "NO HE DIDN'T!" I screamed... and the voice on the other end started rambling about my father... dead in his sleep... mother found him this morning... must have been a heart attack.... I dropped the phone and crumbled into a heap, screaming, crying, yelling, "No! No! No!" My husband had to grab the phone to find out what had happened. I had no words.

My father had, indeed, died. My father, who I had just recently begun to be very close to. My father, who taught me to love music, who gave me stability when my mother was being irrational. Who loved me no matter what. I was his only child. And he was gone.

My husband and I drove to my parents' home. I wanted to be with my mother. On the way, we passed a black hearse going in the opposite direction. "My Dad is in there" my numbed mind thought. When we got to the house, it was filled with my mother's religious friends. My mother, who had been estranged from me "for religious reasons" for 2 years, had very little to say to me... and didn't want my comfort. I stood there in the kitchen, staring at my father's chair where he had sat through all my childhood, giving me advice, sharing meals together, having his martini after work... when a woman came up to me and handed me a stack of clean sheets. She said, "do something useful to help your Mother. Go change the sheets on the bed where your father died". Still stunned by his death, I silently obeyed. I walked into the room, sickened. I numbly tore the sheets off my parents' bed. My mind could not even take in the fact that my father had *just* died there. I could not process one more bit of pain. I put the clean sheets on. I hugged my mother. I went home.

No, it didn't happen in July... but my father's birthday is in July. And every year in July, when I think about my father, I think about his death. The fact that he is not here. That he never got to see any of his grandchildren. I never even got to tell him I was pregnant. I never remember having a happy birthday celebration with him. He was as ignored as I was. And this year, I realized something especially sad for me. He has been gone from my life for longer than I had him in it.

And then a dozen years later, my mother died in July. She had a sudden, unexpected diagnosis of cancer, I flew in to be with her on the 4th of July, and she died in my arms just a couple of days later. As much as I wished it wasn't so, every time since then that I sit in the grass watching fireworks with my children on Independence Day, I remember looking out the windows of the airplane as we were landing and seeing fireworks from above. How tiny they looked. How I wished I had all my children with me. How I wondered if they were watching fireworks. So in July, my brain goes back a little, and if I am not careful, it not only relives the death of my father, but the death of my mother, as well.

And then, almost 4 years ago, a blessing within a tragedy. My beautiful, lovely daughter was born, on my father's birthday. Such a gift! Yet July was once again painful for me, as I lingered in the hospital for a week with extremely high blood pressure, watching my tiny daughter (who was not due until late September) suffer... being unable to hold her for over a week, being told she may not survive, and watching a machine breathe for her. I can say now that the worse day of my life was my birthday that year, when I had to go home from the hospital without my baby. I have never felt such utter despair. No one remembered my birthday that year either. I was again forgotten, and worse, my arms were empty. And I spent all of July and most of August without her.

Ahhh, but she *was* a blessing, she *has* gotten better. And just for the past 3 years, July has started to heal me. Her birthday is now a time of great joy for me as I remember how amazing she is. Her birth on my father's birthday took away so much of the pain of his loss. And frankly it even eclipsed the loss of my mother. In fact, now, I look forward to July! I choose to fill it with celebration. The fireworks bring smiles again as I see them through my daughter's eyes... "Wow!!! Look Mommy! All the colors!" she says with absolute wonder. The good memories are now overwriting the bad stuff from the past.

This year July looks wonderful to me! I know this post was extra-long, but I wanted to share how my viewpoint and emotional reaction to this particular time of year has evolved. I am *excited* for it to be July! In fact, I think now it is my favorite month! With all the happiness my children bring, how could it not be?

I'm choosing to bless myself this July. I hope you'll bless yourself, too!