The Violin

Once upon a time there was a little brown-haired girl who loved music. Her father loved music, too, so he was delighted when she chose to begin playing the violin when she was seven years old. She took lessons at school with her best friend, who played the cello. Every time she put that shiny brown instrument under her chin and swept her braids to the side, she had a feeling of intense happiness. It was quite appropriate that the first classical piece she learned to play was "Ode to Joy."

The little girl practiced diligently. She took great care to polish her violin and never let it get scratched or damaged. She'd stand in her bedroom playing songs over and over in front of her shiny silver music stand until she played them just perfectly. Then she'd skip to the living room to perform a little recital for her proud and adoring father.

At her first concert, she was nervous. She was a quiet, shy little girl who didn't like being in the spotlight, but she donned her beautiful violet crushed velvet dress, fixed the ribbons in her braids just so, and went on stage with the rest of the third grade orchestra and played every song as flawlessly as she could. The lights were hot and blinding. Her heart was pounding. But when she was playing, she soared to a different place in her mind, lifted to new heights by the music.

After the concert, her beaming father came up to her dressed in his Sunday best brown suit, complete with his special Mallard duck cuff links, and presented her with a little box. Inside was an exquisite golden pin... a tiny replica of a violin. He pinned it to her dress as her mother watched. It was a moment she would never forget.

The little brown-haired girl kept playing the violin through third, fourth, and fifth grade. Every concert was a joy; every lesson a blessing. Her music was part of her now; when she could not find her voice to express her emotions, she often was able to express everything in song. And her playing strengthened the bond between her and her father. He loved music. He was so proud.

Sixth grade came, and the shy little girl went to middle school. Her darling braids were replaced by a boyish bob; her confidence was waning. She was not popular and didn't feel like she really fit in. But she still played in the orchestra with her best friend.

Early in the year, she was given a little card on which to record her practice hours. She was pretty busy with her religious zealot mother, going to more than five hours of church meetings each week and spending her weekends out knocking on doors selling religious magazines and preaching to the poor lost souls who didn't have the Truth. Her violin practice suffered; instead of the required five hours per week, she only practiced for two. And her orchestra teacher was very unhappy with that. One day at school, he called her to the front of the class. "Why aren't you practicing more?" he demanded. She quietly explained. "Well," he said, "I want you to practice the full five hours this week. And if you do, I will give you ten dollars! Deal?" "Deal," she replied.

She made every effort that week to get in the full five hours of practice... and she succeeded. She set aside her playtime, skipped her favorite TV shows, and made sure she got that five hours of practice in. She recorded it all on the little card and had her parents sign it. Her teacher would be so pleased! Beaming, she brought it to class the next week. She proudly walked up to her teacher in front of the class and handed him her card, waiting for lavish praise. "Oh!" her teacher snarled, "I see it is NOT so impossible for you to practice five hours AFTER all! You'll do it for TEN DOLLARS but you won't do it for YOURSELF?" He shook his head and gave her a look of contempt and disgust. "Just shameful... shameful! Now sit down!" The shy girl hung her head, went back to her seat, and tried to hide her tears. She didn't even care that he did not give her the ten dollars. It was the first time in her short life that she actually hated herself.

Not long after, the teacher passed out the music for the next concert. It would be a Christmas concert, with traditional Christmas music. The shy girl looked at the sheet music, gathered it in her hands, and timidly approached her teacher after class, head hung low. "I am not allowed to play this music," she quietly said. "I don't celebrate Christmas." "Well if you won't play the assigned music," he declared, "then there is no use for you in my orchestra!" She went home in tears, laid on her bed next to her shiny violin, and wept bitterly.

She never played again. Kicked out of orchestra, she tried to forget her music. The beloved instrument was placed in its red velvet lined case and stuck in the back of her closet. And the little girl grew up.

When she was 18 and moved out, she didn't take the violin with her. And when she went back for it a year later, her mother had "gotten rid of it."

Years later when she was 20, she had a stepson who played the viola. One day when he was in the barn doing his chores, she walked into his room to get his clothes to wash. There, on his bed, was his instrument. She picked up the shiny brown viola and placed it under her chin. All the feelings and memories came flooding back as she placed her fingers on the strings and drew the bow across them, flawlessly playing Ode to Joy.

I have not played a violin in many decades, and my stepson's viola went back to the school we rented it from after he quit playing. Something in me still feels the loss of that music, and part of me has toyed with picking up a violin again and trying to play.

The other day, my daughter asked me if she could play the violin when she is old enough in school. Of course I said yes. I hope when she is old enough she finds that joy in music I once shared with my father. And perhaps yet another small part of me will heal through the music.

Fat Lady Thoughts

Today is going pretty well; the headaches are going away, and although I still feel mildly ill and am tired, I am starting to get back to normal again. My weight is not going down yet, but I know it will. I am hanging in there.

When I was at the mall today, I had some of my old Fat Lady thoughts. I smelled the food court and thought about how, if I was not concerned about weight or health, I would probably want to eat the way I *used* to eat at 278 pounds. The mall was a favorite hangout, especially during school hours when the older kids were gone and I could take the baby (2 at the time) in her stroller to the mall. She wouldn't judge me for eating enough for 4 people; she didn't care. She was just happy to have her pizza.

Me, on my "Ideal Day" (aka Dream Binge Day) I'd first stop in the Barnes and Noble for a grande iced caramel Mocha with whipped cream. Mmmmm. I'd sit in the bookstore and look at books while my little one played beside me in the kids' corner. Then we'd go to the food court. My order was always one slice of pizza for her, and two for me, plus a Caesar salad and a Pepsi. Sometimes a bread stick, too. She was too little to finish one of those huge slices, so I'd polish hers off for her. Then we'd go for big, soft pretzels dipped in butter and cinnamon sugar for "dessert." Buy one, get one free, so I would eat pretty much all of that after she had a few bites and was full. And then, we'd stop at Cinnabon for a nice big cream-cheese-frosted cinnamon roll to take home. I'd have that an hour later while she napped, when my stomach had emptied slightly.

Yes, today in the mall, I thought about all those foods. I didn't really *wish* I could do that... in fact, I know that I would make myself sick trying to eat that quantity anymore. I doubt I could eat more than one slice of pizza before getting full (thank goodness). I didn't crave those things or have to talk my way out of getting them. But there is a bit of odd nostalgia for the good ol' days when I ate whatever I wanted... when taking the steps between the food court and the Cinnabon stand left me exhausted and in pain, but I did it anyway. Funny, isn't it, how I couldn't bear the pain of walking down the block, but I would hobble and limp to the Starbucks and the Pretzel Time because, of course, they didn't have a drive-thru.

I don't want that life anymore. The wanting, the craving, the wishing and drooling and *living for* foods is what I call my Fat Lady thoughts. They have faded into the background these days, and while I *do* think "oh yum, that smells good, too bad it has a million calories or I'd be eating that right now," it's very fleeting and I no longer obsess. I guess I am really a changed person.

Some days I get a little worried or afraid that the Fat Lady is going to come out and go into a rampage and ruin my skinny life. I wonder if she will rise up and knock me over and plow through all the progress I have made, steamrolling the thinner me into the ground as she rages around in her frenzied state, going from food to food to food trying to find something that isn't even there. I wonder if she will ever *really* be gone... or will I always have to watch my back and carry a stun gun to tame her into submission?

I dunno. I haven't seen her in awhile. Even on the days I went off-plan, I didn't go nuts. I did not revert to eating batches of cookie dough or going to McDonald's. I ate a banana. I had tuna on wheat. I had a handful of corn chips with salsa. I mean, *that* is not her. That's just me, eating off plan a little. In fact, I don't think I have seen a crazy raging binge in a lot of months.

Yeah, come to think of it, I have changed so much that it would take a concerted effort to go back to the old way of life. I'd have to consciously eat so much I'd make myself sick, stretching my stomach back to its former size. I'd have to start buying tons of headache medicines and Tums again. I'd have to buy a whole new Fat Lady wardrobe, since I got rid of everything over a size 16. I would have to really hate myself and be in a self-destructive state of mind to do that to myself. And I don't think I am like that. I think I am, really, a new person.

All I can do it take every day as new, as it comes. I heard a quote on the radio today: "a man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still." I think that applies to this whole weight loss thing. If you're losing weight and changing your eating, but you haven't really changed your MIND, you have not really changed. If you are dieting to please someone else, when, in fact, you still really would rather be fat and eat what you want, you have not changed the inside. You're still the Fat Lady no matter what you weigh. Are you doing this against your will? Are you? Am I?

I had to think hard, because there have been times on this journey when I really DID NOT WANT to diet, eat healthy, lose weight, or exercise. I felt almost compelled to do it because it was somehow what I *should* be doing. And then I'd binge. But now, I am doing this of my own will. I want it. I am convinced... and I am of a completely different opinion regarding those foods I once treasured and adored.

I know not all Fat Ladies think like that. But for me, my inner Fat Lady is pretty destructive and selfish. And I am very glad to be rid of her... hopefully, forever.

Can't Do This Again

Because I keep blogging when I screw up, it's no secret I have gone off plan a few times over the past 21 weeks on Medifast. Four times, to be exact. But something new is happening.

I started Medifast on February 28. I was 100% completely on plan with NO slip ups, cheat meals, or days off for a good solid 10 weeks. I was down 26 pounds. Then, in the middle of week 10, I had a slip up. It was unintentional; we ordered Vietnamese food and what came was not what I expected, had too much salt and some unidentifiable sauces, but I ate it anyway. And then, the next day was the first intentional screw up when I ate off plan at a buffet when we were out of town. That first 2-day "off plan" event felt like no biggie; I was up one pound, which came back off in a single day. It was not hard to get right back to Medifast and keep dropping the weight.

The next screw up was only two weeks later. I went off plan when my relatives were here visiting. They brought in some yummy food and potato chips and I ate some. They also made brunch one day which I ate as well. This time was not as easy; I gained TWO pounds, had a headache and felt icky and bloated. But I got back on plan and that extra weight was gone in a few days. This was in early June.

But a week later I did it again... ate some junk, had a burger. Gained a couple pounds and then lost it again. I did NOT feel well, trying to get back off the carbs. I felt sick, had major headaches, huge amounts of joint pain and swore to myself I would not go back off plan again.

One, two, three screw ups. I went another five weeks 100% on plan and feeling fantastic! What an easy diet! It's simple and enjoyable and as long as I stay on plan, take my walks, drink my water, cook reasonable dinners, I lose weight. I got down to 191 this month. And then, last week, 20 weeks in, I lost it again with the eating, went completely off plan. Not binge eating. Not a ton of crap. But I ate more carbs than usual, more calories, more salt, more fat, a little sugar. Small amounts, but they add up. And this time, it has been hell to pay trying to get back on plan.

Sunday I was 194. I was back to 100% on plan but Monday I was 195. Another 100% on plan day but today I was nearly 196! It's not "female cycle" related, either. I am walking, drinking water, eating healthy. But oh do I feel horrid. I feel beyond sick with the whole carb withdrawal thing again. If you've ever gone off sugar, or done something like South Beach diet, you know the icky feelings you get when your body is getting off sugar and carbs. Headaches, sometimes nausea, fatigue, generally feeling lousy. And I have to tell you, I feel absolutely, physically MISERABLE to the point that I ate a piece of wheat toast today just to try and make it go away. If I could, I would go to bed and sleep until tomorrow to escape this feeling.

Every time I go off plan, it gets harder to get back on. I think it is not good for my body to go on and off, on and off a low carb plan. It is just too much. Four off-plan "episodes" in almost 5 months, and each episode is harder to get back from. Today I thought, "I cannot do this again. I absolutely CANNOT physically suffer like this one more time. No more. I just feel too sick and this is NOT good for me."

So that is my commitment to myself. On plan or find something else. I love Medifast. It has done wonders for my weight loss and my binge eating issues. But it is pretty strict. You can't just go have a piece of toast. It screws up the plan. Too many carbs.

So I am going to do my best to get through this one last carb withdrawal state, get back on plan 100%, and stay there. And if I cannot stay there, I am going to have to figure out something else that works for me. When I am on plan, this is easy. I feel GREAT. I lose weight. But going off, it is torture. I am very hopeful I can get back on plan and stay there to get another 30 pounds off. I really hope so. Stay tuned.

Eating is Easier

When I am bored, eating is easier than finding something productive to do.

When I am tired, eating is easier than forcing myself to keep working or convincing myself to take a nap.

When I am angry, eating is easier than feeling those unpleasant feelings.

When I am sad, eating is easier than crying real tears.

When I am scared, eating is easier than facing my fears or screaming into my pillow because I don't have an answer.

When I am rejected, eating is easier than feeling the loneliness.

When I am frustrated, eating is easier than finding a solution.

Eating is easier than really living. But do you really want a life shrouded and numbed by food?

Do you really?

Is it REALLY easier? Not in the long run.

Sitting is harder than running, when you are unable to join your little ones in play.
Riding is harder than walking, when you have lost your mobility due to your weight.
Lying on the couch is harder than taking the stairs, when your children are going to bed each night without kisses.
Eating is harder than dealing with life, when you realize your days are limited and you've wasted them focused on food.

In ten, twenty, thirty years, where will you be if you take the easy way? Will your life be easier then?

Losing weight is hard. Being fat is hard. Maintaining is hard.

Choose your hard.

Little Update

I am feeling SO much better! It's amazing what just one on-plan day can do for my confidence and happiness level, not to mention how I feel physically. I had a great day, stayed on plan with my eating, drank lots of water, and took a 3/4 mile walk in the evening. I feel like my old (new, healthy) self again!

I realized that even now, I have those same tendencies to "start again tomorrow" and want to eat "one more thing" off plan. I used to do that day after day after day for months on end, getting fatter and fatter and never getting around to really starting "tomorrow." Or I'd eat a healthy breakfast and then flip out by lunchtime with the Coke and pizza. But hey, there is always something you want to eat. There's always one more 'last meal' you wish you could have, one more binge, one more chunk of cheesecake before you get all strict on yourself. I still have those thoughts, but at least now I understand it is just silly, and it is no longer a big battle to say, "nah, I don't need to do that, it'll make me feel sick/tired/depressed." It's still a thought, and a minor struggle, but not a major one. It used to take me days and days to feel *stable*, like I could trust myself not to binge or go off plan, but now it's more like a half day. If I make it through a half day, I am pretty much fine and back to business with the weight loss. That's a big mental change. It's taken almost 3 years to get there.

So I am good, I will be fine, no worries... I like what I am doing and it doesn't feel like deprivation (usually) and I am happy. Looking forward to getting skinnier this week!

Checking In

I checked out for a few days. The stress level went up several notches and I literally checked out. I used to check out with binges, but I can't do that anymore. When I eat a reasonable portion of ANYTHING, I get full a lot faster, it is very uncomfortable for me and I am not used to that overstuffed feeling anymore, and I just stop eating. So I can't really binge, nor do I have any drive or desire to. I just do not care very much about food anymore. That's a pretty big deal to me, but very unnerving.

My whole relationship with food has changed. I was slightly worried that when I stop using Medifast I could easily slip back into my old binge eating, food dependant ways, even if I followed their transition and maintenance plans. But for the last three days I was really out of whack with my eating. I am pretty sure it was because of the carbs I ate on Tuesday, which made it physically tough for me to get back to low carb eating. Every day I'd get up and have my tea and be fine until about lunchtime (eating two Medifast meals at 8 and 10AM) and then I'd get a headache, start thinking about what I was going to make for dinner (I am a horrible planner) and get frustrated because I didn't really want to deal with dinner when I had so many *more important* issues going on in my life, and then eat some lame off plan but not unhealthy food, like a banana. One night I had my usual tuna salad made with lite mayo, but I put it on wheat bread instead of over a salad. Another day someone gave us fresh berries and I had some. When I took my daughter out to the park one 95 degree day, we each had an ice cream cone. And yesterday I made mac & cheese for dinner.

Off plan. But not crazy. The stress has been tough. Like I said, I checked out... stopped reading email stopped reading blogs, stopped doing housework, stopped taking walks. Just checked out. And I felt pretty ambivalent about the whole food thing. I didn't go, "Oh, I had an ice cream cone, now I may as well have a burger and fries and some candy bars." I just can't do that anymore. If I go overboard it makes me sick. I don't want it anymore. But I guess my coping mechanisms could be better, because checking out is not the greatest way of dealing with stress.

Anyway, I guess this whole week was a wash diet wise. I am up 3 pounds from last week to 194, mainly water weight that will be gone by next week. I feel pretty icky, physically, from being so inactive and eating off plan, but I am checking back in now and ready to face the stressors, catch up on the housework, take some walks and eat on plan.

Hot Dogs and Chocolate

Last night I ate off plan. It was not a crazy, out-of-control off-plan, but it certainly wasn't conducive to weight loss. And while a lot of times I'd rather sweep my little incidents of poor choices under the carpet and forget about them, I have found a lot of insight and success by always blogging them here. So here goes.

My circumstances have been somewhat stressful but I've felt strong and have been tolerating it well. In fact, as I wrote earlier this week, I enjoy the sense of power and control I get by *not* bingeing. I have control over what I put in my mouth. That makes me feel better. It keeps me from that *spiraling down* sensation. The last time I had an off-plan eating episode was in early June and it was pretty controlled, and I have been totally on plan since then.

So yesterday I was going along, not very hungry, eating my usual small meals every 2-3 hours, everything was fine. Then it came to dinnertime. I was tired and nothing really sounded good. My teenagers had asked for hot dogs for dinner. I do let them have hot dogs once in awhile. They love them, were raised on them because they were so cheap and I was poor, but nowadays I only buy the higher quality all beef reduced fat type and only a handful of times a year. So I only had to make something for myself and my daughter.

I went into the kitchen. I made up a batch of healthy egg white salad and put it in the fridge to chill. I wondered what vegetables would be good for my dinner. I didn't want to cook and nothing looked appealing, so I grabbed this humongous, foot-long cucumber that I'd gotten from the Farmer's Market. I didn't even feel like making it into a cucumber salad so I just washed it and took it in the living room and sat down munching it as I read blogs.

After I got about halfway through it, I was *so over* that cucumber. It was a chore to get it down, but I just didn't want a salad or to bother cooking anything so I kept eating it. When I was 3/4 the way through, I said "screw it" and threw the rest away. I grabbed the egg white salad and started eating that, but it just didn't appeal to me much either. It was a huge bowl of food and after getting about 2/3 through THAT I just gave up and left it on the counter for later.

Enter the hot dogs. Teens were going in and out of the kitchen, roasting hot dogs, putting them on soft buns with ketchup and mustard. The smell wafted through the house. If you have read my blog much *at all* you know I have a serious *thing* for hot dogs. I used to eat 5 at a sitting, on buns, with a bag of Cheetos and some Coke. I don't know what it is about hot dogs, but they almost SCREAM to me to eat them. And once I have one I can't stop. I should know this. In fact almost every time I have gone off plan in the past 5 months has involved hot dogs.

I wanted one. But I know a bun was totally off limits. I rationalized: "well, I didn't finish my protein at dinner. I could have ONE low fat hot dog with no bun to fill in the gap." I roasted my hot dog, put it in a plate with some mustard and ate it. It was very yummy, but I wanted more, I wanted a bun, and I wanted cheese. Somehow, hot dogs and sharp cheddar cheese with dill pickles are linked in my mind. They were my PMS food, my childhood favorite, good times with Dad. I reasoned, "a bit of cheese would be ok. Protein, no carbs." And I cut myself a very thin slice of sharp cheddar (which I would NOT keep in the house... but other people buy it).

I walked past the kitchen table and saw a half eaten hot dog one of the kids had left. Almost instinctively, I grabbed it and took a bite. Before even swallowing I'd taken another, and then reason overtook me and I went and spit it all in the trash. I wanted to finish out the day well. I hadn't eaten any extra carbs. I'd be fine. I would take a nice, long walk after I got my daughter to bed to work off some of the fat.

I wanted something sweet though, and I had a few squares of 'special chocolate' in my cabinet. It had been there for months. It's low sugar, low carb chocolate with roasted flax seeds for omega-3 and fiber. Not bad nutritionally, if you're gonna eat chocolate. And I did, and it was good, and not over the top. Off plan, but still within my carb range. I'd walk it off... ::cue slippery slope music::

I had a plan! I was putting my girl to bed, and then at 8:45 I would go out and walk a couple miles, then come home and go to bed early. I was super tired and grumpy. But something happened that messed up my plans; I would be unable to take my walk and I would NOT be able to get to bed early either. I was SO frustrated and tired that I went into the kitchen at 9PM and stood there, deciding what I would eat next.

I was going to make brownie batter. I didn't even care anymore. I was just exhausted and frustrated and wanted something *else* to focus on. I was lonely and angry and feeling helpless. I stood there thinking about the brownie batter (which I am quite good at making from almost ANYTHING in the kitchen... even when I have no sugar or white flour in the house) and I realized that if I did that, I'd be sick as a dog. Sugar these days just makes me so ill. I get nauseous, I get jittery. I wake up with a migraine and severe joint pain. Eh. It wasn't worth it. I didn't even really want brownie batter. I just wanted to go off plan and eat for whatever emotional reason. I ended up standing there eating a banana, 6 or 7 fresh cherries, a strawberry and 2 blueberries. They were sooooo goood. But I was still obsessing about hot dogs. I roasted 2 hot dogs, put them on buns with mustard and ketchup, and cut myself a few thin slices of cheddar with 2 little dill pickles. I grabbed a fried chicken strip that someone had left in the fridge, cooked it and poured a little Ranch dressing on a plate beside it. I sat down to eat it. I ate the cheese. I ate one hot dog. I took one bite of the chicken but didn't like it. On the second bite of the second hot dog, I realized I was FULL, and didn't really care about the food anymore. I got up and threw the chicken and the second hot dog away, drank a glass of water, and went to bed at 10:30.

What I learned:
I need to pre-plan my dinners better, and have salads and pre-cooked veggies in the fridge ready to just warm up on days like this.
I almost ALWAYS have these mini-binges/food issues late at night when I am super tired and something puts me over the edge and I cannot go to bed.
I no longer want to binge on sugary stuff. MIRACLE!
I have a lot more control than I used to have, spitting food out and throwing food out when I realize I don't want it.
There are still foods that 'bother' me that I am better off not indulging in *at all.* I should probably never buy hot dogs again.
I get full a lot faster than I used to.
I get back on plan way, way faster than I used to.

Interestingly, when I used to be binge eating out of frustration, I'd eat a whole lot, get those feelings that "I am full, I don't want anymore, I can stop now" but I would FORCE myself to continue eating ALL of the food, even if it made me sick. I would keep shoving and shoving it down my throat in a form of self violation, part of me screaming, no, no, please stop...

There is something deeper there that I may have to explore later, but I am not ready to do that now.

But I didn't do that this time. I didn't even consider doing it this time. I just felt full, didn't want it, got up and threw it away. I didn't punish myself, hurt myself, or violate myself. I think that is a big step.

I am 100% on plan today, doing well, feel better even if stressed. I am learning a lot on this journey, every single day.

Month of Medifast... Who Won?

When I posted last week that I was doing a Month of Medifast Food Giveaway for my birthday month (donated by Medifast), I never expected to be so overwhelmed by the entries that followed. I get my comments via email and read them throughout the day, and often I'd read one and break into tears because, yes, THIS is the one! This is the one I will pick for the giveaway!... but then, more and more poured in... This one! That one! This would change her life! She's so young! She's battled for decades! She has kids! She has no one! She is so sick! She is so determined! On and on, I'd read your stories and weep because I wanted to help *every one* of you. ALL of you deserve it. ALL of you got into my hearts. And choosing was *very difficult* for me.

I am kind of a nut about people. I care about everyone. I want to help. I want to fix it. And I feel almost like the bachelorette handing out roses right now. It sucks that so many of you will be disappointed, but I do have faith in you ALL that you can change your lives. And I have something for all of you that I am working on to post this week... a group 'jump start' to better health. Because while this is a wonderful prize, believe me, please, that you can make a difference in your life and health with or without Medifast, and I am going to try and give you some tools to do that. Please come back this week and let's get started together!

Now. I did not just glance through the comments and pick whoever had the best 'story' or anything like that. I want you to know I spent *hours* clicking links, reading blogs, considering things... thinking, looking people up online to get some more back story, and eventually, going with my gut. I want to make a difference with this giveaway... a real, lasting difference in people's lives. I hope you'll cheer on the winners with me.

Yes, I said winners. This decision was so tough that I asked Medifast if they would *possibly* consider giving away a Month of Medifast package to TWO people who entered instead of just one. And they generously said YES. Thank you Medifast. I appreciate that very much!

Here are the two winners I chose:

1. Anonymous/Linda (lovetotest). She is 52 years old, a mom of two and grandma of one. Currently, Linda weighs 392.8 pounds and has tried and failed at many diets for many years. She is at the end of her rope, struggling with her health and her work situation. In part, she wrote:

"I just can't go on like this. Life is passing me by and if I continue on this road I am on, well, my life will be cut very short. I just had my first grandchild last August. She is the most precious baby. I want to be able to take her to the park, to be here to watch her grow up and be part of her life. My mother died in 1993 from a stroke related to her morbid obesity. My biggest fear is that if I don't get this weight off now, I too will not be here much longer.... I want to save my life. I have a wonderful husband who has stuck by me all these years. If it were not for him, well I just don't know. I am tired of not being an active participant in my own life. I don't want to spend the rest of my life stuck in a wheelchair. I want to feel what it feels like to walk without pain again. I want to travel, and help others. I want to stop talking about it and do it."

Well Linda, here's your chance. Your time is NOW! You can choose to use this gift to change your life... and I hope with all my heart that you do. You sound like a loving, wonderful person. I thought about my mother when I was reading your post; she fought her weight all her life and never won; she passed away at just 57 years old. In her memory and honor, I would love to help you achieve your dreams.

2. Kisha. She is 28 years old, a mommy of two precious little girls, and weighs 285 pounds. She said,

"I have spent my life being a broken person, and watching the numbers on the scale go up and up each day, month, year. I finally am at the point where I am healing emotionally, but my body is not cooperating." When I read her blog, I found a post she wrote a month ago: a letter to herself about her weight.  In part, it says,

"Self, you have shown so much willpower in so many aspects of your life. I KNOW you can do this. It seems like an insurmountable task right now-I mean, I'm not exactly sure how one undoes 28 years of behavior, but I know you have to do it. Your husband deserves it. Your kids deserve it. And most of all, YOU deserve it. Allow yourself to feel. Allow yourself to be mad. Allow yourself to be sad. Don't shove your feelings down with food. Most importantly, allow yourself to live."

You're right, Kisha. You can do this. You deserve it. Here's your chance at becoming a healthier,stronger mother and wife for your family. You are so young. I wish I had resolved the broken parts of myself at 28 rather than starting at 38. I don't want you to miss out on those irreplaceable moments with your young children. I hope this gift will help you and your family. Kiss those sweet babies, they don't stay little for long!

Winners have one week to contact me via email to arrange delivery, and, of course, I will be mentoring them via email as I promised in the original giveaway post. I will also be emailing a few others who were not chosen, because I really do want to help in some way.

If any of you are considering ordering Medifast for yourself, here is a coupon code you can use: LYNESC50 for $50 off a $275 order, good through 8/31.

I hope the jump start post later this week will be a means for the rest of you who entered to feel like there IS hope, you CAN do it, and you are most definitely NOT alone. I hope to be able to mentor you all in some small way through that post and those that follow.

Hugs to all. This can be YOUR new beginning too.

I Woke Up Fat

Losing weight is a slow and deliberate process. Every day I am looking for subtle changes in my body that tell me that I am losing weight. I see more defined ankles and bony wrists emerging from years of slumber under the cushiony padding that is dissolving away. I pass my hand over my midsection when I am lying on my back and feel the edge of my ribs, jutting like a ledge before the soft curve inward of my newly- concave stomach. New little changes tell me I am slowly but surely moving down the scale: disappearing extra chins, baggy jeans, loose jewelry. I am hyper aware of my body getting smaller day by day.

But it wasn't that way when I gained this weight. It seemed like I was a normal weight one day, a little bit overweight the next, and then suddenly I woke up fat. I don't remember the moment when my ankles puffed out from normal boniness to chunky stubs that wouldn't fit into my rollerblades; I don't recall when my pretty, defined chin and neck started blossoming extra rolls of fat and hanging skin. Somehow, it escaped my notice that I was getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger, day by day. I was too busy eating... too busy burying myself in the computer and the food and trying to escape reality. I was very good at that. I didn't even notice how big I was until I had gained over 100 pounds.

I woke up fat. I tried to wear my necklaces but they were inexplicably too tight. They'd become shortened like chokers and no longer hung gracefully past my collarbones. I HAD no collarbones... where did they go? I shrugged and put the necklaces away, wondering, thinking, "didn't these used to be longer?" I tried on my bracelets and watches but they were too small as well. All of a sudden one day the rings didn't fit, my wedding ring was literally cracked from the pressure of my fattened fingers, and my coats wouldn't button. Did my clothing all shrink? Someone must have put them in the dryer too long. And why are there all these big holes in the inner thighs of my stretch pants? Who knows... buy some more... bigger sizes though because, of course, it's a different brand and they must cut them smaller. Sixteens, eighteens, twenties went by... 2X, 3X, everything is cut wrong. Stick with the comfy stretch pants now and don't think about the size.

I woke up fat. I don't remember noticing the stretch marks blooming like a field of wildflowers across my belly, thighs, and arms. I wondered why my face looked puffier in pictures... mutated, almost.... with bigger cheeks and fewer angles, but it must be because I am aging. I just don't look like a teenager anymore. I didn't look in mirrors much, didn't allow pictures. I needed to lose 'a little weight', I knew, because I was definitely not as small nor limber as I used to be. Things hurt. I ached. It must be age.

I woke up fat. I didn't ease into it gradually as I am easing into slimness again. I was oblivious to my body piling on slab after slab of fat, bulging and growing by leaps and bounds, gaining 80 pounds in under a year. I didn't notice my skin stretching to its limit and then growing, growing, growing to accommodate so many new inches of hips and thighs and arms. I'd turn around in an aisle in the store and be shocked when my hips knocked things off the shelves. When did they make these aisles so narrow? I didn't run my hands over my stomach and wonder where the huge mountain of flesh came from. I didn't notice at all. I was in too much emotional pain. I was in my own little world, trying to avoid realities of abuse, divorce, poverty, loneliness. I was afraid of reality. I blocked it out. And I woke up fat.

Now that I am awake and aware and making the changes I need to make, one thing is perfectly clear: I cannot allow myself back into that oblivious slumber, where reality is denied and ignored and avoided. I have to stay aware of my body, my feelings, my actions. I need to *notice* when my hip bones start to jut out, or when they begin to be re-covered by fat; I need to be aware of the angles of my face and the slenderness of my wrists, so that if those things began to change again I would see it. I have to stay grounded in reality and not let myself go off into a fantasy world of bliss and pleasure by stuffing myself with cupcakes and potato chips.

Stress used to trigger in me a desire to buy and eat every possible pleasurable food; I'd be overwhelmed with emotion and, to escape it, would whip up batches of brownies and drive through McDonald's for Big Mac meals to bury the emotions with food; afterwards the fullness and sickness and guilt and shame overshadowed whatever it was that was stressing me before. It was somehow distressing and comforting all at once. But now, when stressed, my desire is not to binge. I have a drive to stay in control of my eating, to focus and maintain the power over what goes into my mouth. When nothing else feels within my control, I know my eating IS. I know I have the power over this one thing. And THAT gives me a great deal of peace and comfort, and is soothing to me.

As long as I stay self aware... FEELING my feelings, SEEING what it in front of me, NOTICING reality... I won't let days or weeks or months go by again being disconnected from my *self.* I woke up fat, yes. But the important thing is, I WOKE UP. And *awake* I am going to stay.

Weekly Round-up

I like taking Sundays to just look back over my week and see how I've done. I do a little self-assessment, add up how many days I was on plan, how often I exercised, what I ate and the scale results. I think it helps me stay on track and tweak things that could be helpful or detrimental to my weight loss.

Last Sunday I weighed in at 195 pounds. Today, I weigh 191. That's four pounds gone this week! A good loss, since I've been averaging just under 2 pounds per week (7 per month over the last few months). Here's what this week looked like:

100% on plan eating.
Exercise: two 1-mile walks, two 3/4 mile walks, and three walks to the park.
One dinner out at a restaurant.

Some stuff I ate this week:
Fish, salad w/blue cheese dressing, steamed green beans
Lean, local grass fed ground beef cooked with tomato sauce & taco seasonings over a bed of Romaine & fresh tomatoes with Litehouse Lite Salsa Ranch dressing
Chicken breast cooked in Dijon mustard sauce, with steamed broccoli and salad
Fresh cucumber salad with low fat mozzarella cheese and hard boiled eggs
Scrambled Egg Beaters with spinach and mushrooms
Deviled eggs (I love these!) with fresh, locally grown steamed asparagus

On my birthday there was an ice cream cake, and I made myself a Medifast brownie which I topped with about 2 Tablespoons of that ice cream cake. It was really good and I got to enjoy the festivities.

Another great week under my belt! I rewarded myself this morning by boxing up yet another box of "fat clothes" that were falling off me. They're going on Craigslist this afternoon! It won't be long before I am posting another set of pictures for 90 pounds gone. I can hardly wait!

Enjoy your weekend!

Just Thinking

Yesterday we went out for my birthday dinner to my FAVORITE restaurant! I was so excited! They are kind of pricey but they are so good about making custom orders. I get fresh fish, ask for no rice and double the veggies, no oil or butter on the veggies, a side salad with dressing on the side. Every time I have gone it has been PERFECT and delicious and so satisfying.

But yesterday sucked. The waitress screwed up my order in every possible way. The appetizer, which was supposed to be plain seared ahi, came in a sugary, buttery sauce. The salad came tossed with loads of dressing (I did send that back, and she brought me a new one with dressing on the side). The fish I ordered poached in white wine with dill came BREADED and FRIED, sitting on a bed of rice which I had asked to be left off, with one side of green beans drenched in butter instead of the steamed double vegs. However, a busboy brought the dish and ran off before I could even open my mouth, so I waited, and waited, and waited for the waitress, contemplated eating it, waited some more. She came back 15 minutes later and apologized but they were super busy, and it would be 20 more minutes if I wanted it done right, so I just told her to please bring the double steamed veggies and I would pick off the breading and eat the fish.

I sat there and picked off the breading, scraped the rice aside, and ate some super bland fish. Then the green beans came and I ate those. It had to be the most unfulfilling meal I have ever eaten in a restaurant. What a bummer. I did get a discount but that didn't make up for my meal being screwy! The best part of the night was watching my little girl eat a dish of chocolate mousse! She doesn't get many sweets so she was super excited and really loved it. So cute!

When I was at the restaurant something else interesting happened. They have sinks and mirrors inside each bathroom stall, so I was standing there waiting for my daughter to finish with the potty when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was standing with my arms crossed. What I noticed made me cringe: my forearms, when folded, flatten out and look like they have pancakes hanging off them. I guess it is hanging skin that used to be filled with fat; I did notice earlier this week that my forearms were getting skinny. But geez, what an unflattering look. I swear I hardly recognise my body parts these days. I felt pretty self conscious when I saw this, and now I am being careful not to stand with my arms folded because it looks kind of gross. I even took a picture of it in the mirror at home, mainly because I am hoping and praying that it will somehow firm up and look better as I lose weight, and then I can post some before and afters to give other people hope. But yeah, this losing weight thing is a huge step into unfamiliar territory sometimes. My body doesn't always feel like my own. However, this is better than the alternative, and I wouldn't trade the weird hanging arm stuff for morbid obesity and plump, smooth arms.

Feeling great and looking forward to a weigh-in tomorrow!

Time to Lose

You know what's really crazy? The more weight I lose, the more impatient I am getting to get it ALL OFF. I mean, yeah, when I weighed 278 pounds and was looking down the barrel of losing over 120 pounds, I felt overwhelmed. I wished it would instantly poof off and be gone. I wished I could undo the years of damage. I even dreamed of hacking off my own fat slabs with a scythe so I could be immediately lighter. Let's face it, knowing one has to lose that much weight is a real downer. It seems impossible. I went through a lot of anger, fear, and sadness:

How could I let myself get this big?
Why did I do this to myself?
How on earth and I going to lose 120 pounds? It is going to take forever.
Is it even possible?

I chose to just start on the path and not worry about how many miles it would be. One foot in front of the other, step by step. The time was going to pass anyway, day after day after day until I was ten, twenty, thirty years older and the only thing I could control is whether I would be heavier, lighter, or the same weight when another year went by. THAT, I could do. I knew I could lose, say, ten pounds. That was not impossible. But I always regained the weight. I never got to 40 pounds lost. I always stalled out and regained. Could I really get off ten pounds and keep it off? That became the first goal. In fact, sometimes my goals became "lose 5 pounds and keep it off." I knew if I could do that, twenty times, I'd have lost 100 pounds. It might take a year, two years, five years. But, like I said, the time would pass anyway. May as well do *something* real about my weight during that time.

I started in August of 2007, almost 3 years ago. It took me about ten days to lose the first ten pounds, and I kept it off. I kept it off FOREVER. And even if I had stopped there it would have been a positive change and a new accomplishment. If you can get ten pounds off and KEEP IT OFF, you have really done something good for yourself. Yes ten pounds matters. And yes, being *able* not to regain that amount is a huge step! Yet it is one most of us would think nothing of, would downplay, wouldn't bother to have as a goal. It should be the first goal. Get off ten and KEEP IT OFF.

It took me a little longer to lose the next ten pounds... 34 days. That's still rather quick in the scheme of things. So in under 2 months I was down 20 pounds and I KEPT IT OFF. That is huge! You can go back and read my archives and see that I was not on some strict diet to accomplish that. What started this weight loss was simple: a trip to the Farmer's Market. I had coupons for free produce, so I went. I bought so much fruit it looked like an orchard in here: a case of peaches, bins of blackberries, raspberries and strawberries, bags of plums and whole watermelons and cantaloupes. I got some veggies too but I was still not big on veggies. And then I didn't want all that fruit to go to waste so I ate and ate and ate it. And I lost weight, because peaches left no room for Big Macs and berries displaced candy bars. I just kept going, week after week, buying produce and eating that instead of crap. I also did try to stop eating *all the time* as I had been, and stopped eating late at night. I drank water and tea instead of sodas. The weight came off.

It took even longer to lose the third 10 pounds: 55 days. Almost two months to drop that ten. It was getting harder, but it was still coming off. After awhile I started walking a tiny bit. I started counting calories at some point. The binges were getting fewer and farther between. And I was still wondering if I had it in me to lose all this weight and keep it off. But I was up to 30 pounds gone, I posted progress pictures and the difference was astounding. I kept going.

The next ten were critical, as I'd never quite gotten to 40 pounds gone before in all my dieting days. Each set of ten pounds was taking longer to lose... 10 days, 34 days, 55 days. And the fourth ten pounds took three and a half MONTHS to come off! This is where most people give up. I mean, how do you keep going when it takes THREE AND A HALF MONTHS to drop ten lousy pounds?? Well, you just do. You have to keep fighting. Some of that time I was just aiming not to regain all the weight. I was working the mental battle. I was figuring out what works for me. Trial and error. The Farmer's Market was closed and I was figuring out how to get what I needed from a grocery store. I figured it out. That ten came off and STAYED OFF. Spring came, it got slightly easier, and the next ten pounds "only" took 50 days (less than 2 months).

Now stop and think. If it took you MONTHS to drop ten pounds, how would you feel? Would you give up? Is it worth it if it is coming off that slowly? Let's wait and see...

So it had been nine months and I'd lost 50 pounds. I was feeling much better but I had to work hard on the mental and emotional stuff along the way. I tried different plans: calorie counting, South Beach, low carb, weight training, biking, eating on a schedule, meditating. And I just kept going. It took me exactly 2 months to lose the next ten pounds.

And then I got kinda stuck. I didn't give up... I kept counting calories and exercising and eating lots of veggies. I blogged. I worked at it. And do you know how long it took me to drop the next ten pounds?

One year and nine months.

Yep. Twenty one months after I hit 60 pounds gone, I finally reached 70 gone. I struggled and worked and DID NOT GIVE UP for 21 months. It was hard, let me tell you. I wanted to give up sometimes. I thought I couldn't do it. I figured at this rate of loss I would be an old lady before i reached my goal, if ever. But what were my choices? Give up? Go back to bingeing and being morbidly obese? Sadly, many people choose to give up and regain the weight because it is SO TIRING to keep fighting and it seems impossible and that it is taking SO LONG and will never happen. It really gets exhausting and discouraging... but keep going.

The next ten pounds took 32 days.
Then next ten took 45 days.

And the next? Who knows. I am working on it. I am getting close to 90 pounds gone. It took me almost three years.

Is that too long?
Is it not worth it?
Is it worth fighting and working when it takes that long?

Yeah. It is worth it. Keep going.

I may feel impatient sometimes, but the TIME is part of the process. It's part of learning how to live a life with a healthier relationship with food. It's part of processing the pain and grief that may have led to the weight gain in the first place. It takes time to let those things go, to learn how to eat well, to revamp your life. It takes time to lose weight. But yes. It is so, so worth it.

Off the Floor

Today I went to an event with my daughter where I was asked to sit on the floor. I sat down and was on the hard, tile floor for 15 minutes when I realized how comfortable I was. I was sitting with my arms loosely around my bent knees... a position that was physically impossible for me not long ago, when my 56 inch belly was in the way. And when it was time to get up, I had no trouble standing without hefting my giant arse up, getting on all fours, and pushing myself up rear-first like a toddler learning to stand... which is how I used to get up IF I could get up at all. Really, I remember writing long ago on my blog about the first time I signed my little girl up for a Mommy & Me gymnastics class and we had to get up and down off the floor and march in circles to warm up. I'd lost a bit of weight by then and KNEW that if I had not, I'd have cancelled the class due to sheer embarrassment at my inability to get up off the floor in a dignified manner.

Nowadays, it's nothing to go from floor to standing without dramatics, injury, or assistance. I do it all the time at home, when I sit down to play with my daughter or pick things up off the floor. I do it in her classes or when there is nowhere to sit, because standing for long periods makes my knees ache. I sit on the ground when I watch her practice soccer for an hour, and I sit in a shady grass patch at the park while she plays with friends (when I am not up playing with her, which I often am). I used to hover around the benches or chairs wherever we went, looking desperate and FEELING desperate to sit but unable to get myself to the floor and back up. People would notice and offer me their seats, which I took gratefully and out of necessity. I felt handicapped by my own limited mobility, and I was only in my mid-30's. I felt like an old lady. A very unfit old lady.

Hitting rock bottom for me was not just figurative. Being unable to sit on the floor and unable to rise up off the floor if I had to was humiliating. If I fell, I could not get up easily if at all. But now, I have pulled myself up, I am off the floor and I am strong. I am free to participate in all of life's events, whether there will be chairs there for me or not. This weight I am losing, it's not just pounds of fat. It's the weight of being afraid, being disappointed in myself, being hopeless and feeling incapable. It's like I've been healed of a debilitating condition. I do not take that for granted. I am so thankful every day.

I am off the floor, and that's where I am going to stay.

190: Kentucky Life

As I edge downward towards 190 pounds, I am taken back to the first time I ever hit that weight on the way up. It's funny how the numbers or the melting pounds seem to release old memories and revisit past experiences; perhaps it is part of the process of letting go... of both the weight and the past.

I was 23 years old and had reluctantly moved away from a town full of friendship and support to a little place in the country two thousand miles away, in Kentucky. My husband had found a job there, so we sold many of our things, packed what remained, and toted our two small children off to a new world. I'd been accustomed to mountains and snow and a certain way of living in our farmhouse; we'd had an acre garden, some chickens and sheep and goats, and lots of space for our babies to grow. We moved to a rental house in the woods, sight unseen, so that my husband could begin his new job. It was a tiny place, very secluded and silent. When I turned on the water to run a bath for my baby the first evening, the water was brown. I let it run for awhile, trying to see if it would get clearer, but it didn't. Two inches of water in the tub looked almost as thick as chocolate milk. "I can't bathe him in this," I said. "We can't drink this." So we didn't bathe for a few days, and then rented a hotel room just so we could all shower.

That place just wasn't going to work out for us, so we quickly moved to a little apartment. Then we bought a trailer and put it on a rental lot covered in tall grass and surrounded by fields of corn. We mowed the grass, built stairs out of cinder blocks, and moved right in... along with the giant roaches and a whole lot of ants. I'd get out of bed in the night to use the bathroom and roaches would be on the blankets and scattering across the floor. To top it off, I was pregnant with my third child, due just 17 months after the second.

It was a whole new world for me in other ways, as well. I'd drive down to the little local grocery store and go inside, where dirt-coated children (not my own) ran through the aisles barefoot with nothing on but a diaper and grubby-looking men would reach out and pat me on the behind or even reach towards my breasts as I shopped. They'd look me up and down and give a lecherous smile, their teeth stained from chewing tobacco. I told my new friend, who was also pregnant with her third child, that I was going to breastfeed my baby; she looked horrified and responded, "Oh no, I would NEVER do that, these belong to my husband!" as she clutched her breasts.

It wasn't all bad. In fact we had a really good time there for the most part. We made friends at church who invited us for dinner often, and we got all the riches of the south: fried chicken, greens, cornbread, biscuits and gravy, macaroni and cheese, deep fried okra, and chocolate cream pies. It was always a feast when we went for a meal. And there were so many pit barbecue stands all over the place, where whole hogs roasted over wood and coals in a pit in the ground all day, to be served up with coleslaw and beans and corn bread for $3 a plate... RC included! Our friends were kind and generous. Hospitality was a given. We had good times, despite living in a tin-roofed trailer with no shade trees, no air conditioning, and 100 degree heat.

We had our issues in the marriage, though, and I also knew I did not want to raise my children there and stay forever. So I ended up leaving with the two little ones and driving back 'home' 2000 miles by myself. I moved into the dark, small basement of a friend, where I lived with my 1- and 3-year-olds for a few weeks until I had my third baby, alone. A friend came to the hospital with me, but my husband was still in Kentucky. Just before I delivered that child, I weighed 190 pounds.

All this weight since then... 88 pounds... didn't come on until much later in my life. I didn't get significantly over 200 pounds until 1998. But when I see these new numbers... getting closer and closer to 190... I remember how I felt back then. I remember the isolation and the joy, the friendships and the pain. I can feel the sweat dripping off my brow as I pushed a stroller with two children in it to the park in the sweltering heat, and I remember the crunch a roach makes when you step on it barefoot in the night. I recall the two thousand mile drive with my babies in the back and my pregnant belly sticking out so far it touched the steering wheel, and how I used to have to take a shower in the tiny basement shower stall with my toddlers sitting at my feet and my newborn in a car seat in the bathroom, because I couldn't leave the little ones alone in the basement with the wood stove burning. I remember my husband coming, finally, weeks later, bringing flowers, reaching to hold his weeks-old son for the first time. I remember the hope, the devotion we both had to making changes and making the marriage work. And things were wonderful for awhile.

We moved back into our old farmhouse and life started over.

Life is always starting over, isn't it?

Every pound I lose feels like both a step into the past and a step to a healthy future. Every day I learn something new about myself and let go of something old. It's a beautiful thing.

I said goodbye to Kentucky so many years ago. I said goodbye to that husband, too, and now I am saying goodbye to the many pounds I gained during that time of my life. But I still have that sweet little baby I delivered, who is sixteen years old now and still lights up my life. With goodbyes comes new hellos. Hello to the body being uncovered as the fat melts away; welcome to the changes and the newness. Welcome to the happiness that comes with growth.

Scale says: 193.

Hanging Flab, or, Where the Fat Is

Boy, this weight loss thing has a lot of ups and downs!

Yesterday I was standing in the bathroom washing my hands, when I noticed in the mirror that WHOA, what happened to my arms? What are those mutant arms in the mirror?? Now really, I am all for being positive about my body but I was honestly shocked when I noticed how my arms are changing. The forearms and wrists have slimmed down a LOT in the last few weeks, and maybe the upper arm is starting to shrink too, but whoa, the upper arm is SO much bigger than the forearm! I stood there and looked: yep, I am getting nice, almost normal looking forearms which, compared to the old super puffy forearms, look pretty different and alien to me. Add the way the upper arms seem to be melting into puddles around my elbows and you get something that isn't very comforting. In fact, if I took a photo of my upper arm or elbow alone and posted it anywhere, people would assume that it belonged to a morbidly obese person. And the flab sort of swings around when I move. I don't like it.

This morning I put on a pair of jean shorts I bought not too long ago. They fit just right, but they are shorter than the ones I usually wear. I am a capri length kind of gal. I like my knees to be covered. And when I am in jeans or capris I look in the mirror and think I look pretty darn good. I can even ignore the arm issue for the most part. And people I haven't seen in awhile DO notice how good I look. I am proud of my progress pictures and think, "hey, I look really good." But this morning I put on those new shorts which are cut just above the knees, looked in the mirror, and thought, oh dear. My knees are absolutely loaded with fat. It's like there are blobs attached all around my knees. Again, if I look a picture of just my knees, you'd guess they were of a person in the 250-300 pound range.

I guess that's why people have always said I "carry it well." My face is slim. My waist is curvy and trim. I have a nice rack. I have collarbones and good shoulders and the chins are mostly gone, and my wrists and ankles look nice. But what people don't usually see is the really abnormal amount of fat around my knees and thighs. THAT is where I carry the weight. That, and the upper arms. I probably need to lose 40 pounds off just those areas.

Don't get me wrong. I am not discouraged, disappointed, or down on myself. I *love* what I am doing for my body and my life. Fat thighs and arms don't change that. I know they will shrink over time, and who knows how they will look at goal? Loose skin? Hanging? I dunno, maybe, maybe not, it doesn't matter because it doesn't really affect me. 100 extra pounds of fat affected me. This, I will get over. And making honest observations about my body is part of coming to accept who I am.

In the shower this morning, even before I looked at myself in those shorts, I was thinking, "I am not going to be able to fix all of this..." meaning the way my body has changed because of having been morbidly obese, combined with being 41 years old. But you know, it was not a negative thought or feeling. It was one of acceptance. "I may not be able to fix all of this, but I can care for my body the best I can, and it will BE the best it can be, and that's just fine."

I am wearing those shorts today even though I think I look way fatter in them because they emphasize my knee fat. I am not feeling terribly self conscious about it. It is what it is, this is me. I have lost weight but I am obese. I have battle scars, I have fat arms and knees, so what? I also wear a bathing suit in public because I want to swim. I won't let my own self consciousness rule my life anymore. In all reality, no one really cares if my knees are fat or not, and next year at this time I'll be wearing much smaller shorts with much thinner knees. I don't have to be perfect to be happy.

Have a GREAT day!

I Believe

I feel really confident right now... positive, strong, capable. The weight is dropping off more quickly than it has been: four pounds in eight days, despite PMS. And even though there is stress and things are not resolved nor yet improved with my son's health, I can't help but feel like I can handle things. I AM handling things. And though I am not what I'd call 'religious,' I *am* spiritual, and I do feel that the many prayers and good thoughts coming from you kind folks in my direction have been helpful. I do believe that. So thank you.

Last week I lost 3 pounds. Another dropped off yesterday. I am sticking to my schedule, eating every 2 1/2 to 3 hours, drinking lots of water, making sure I get enough protein and veggies. But more importantly, my mind is in a better place. I'm not always fighting with food, or cravings, or feelings of despair. I am *so much* more self aware than I was even six months ago. It makes me think more and more that this change in me is a permanent one... one of progression. Not a phase. Not something I will lose and possibly slip back into old ways. I feel so changed. Not just on the surface. Deep within.

As I reflect, I think it had to be that way. The old Lyn with the blanket of sadness and shroud of victimization was too powerless and hopeless to make changes this big. She was embedded in the belief that THIS IS HOW IT IS, I am doomed to be *less than*, and I am incapable of reaching the potential I might have had *before* all these 'things' happened to me. I liked myself in some ways; no, actually, I liked what I might have been... what I thought I could have been but had been somehow stripped from me by years of pain, rejection, isolation, and what I, personally, believed was failure. But my 'failures' back then, they were really successes. They were building blocks to create a new me... to break down the old, scarred self and rebuild this new person who I am becoming. Not just physically; no, in fact, the physical is almost a side effect or an addendum to the *real* changes that have occurred.

I don't think the Lyn I am becoming could live the way the old Lyn lived, with binges and the overwhelming feeling of spinning out of control in so many aspects of life, with the limitations of a body that couldn't function well enough to take a short walk to the park or walk along the beach for ten minutes. I could no longer live with the pain of acid reflux, of daily headaches and weekly migraines... of being unable to go downstairs to do laundry or to kiss my children goodnight. I couldn't take myself in my current state of mind and accept a life that revolves around Big Macs and french fries and how many candy bars I can eat in the parking lot with no one looking... a life of sleeping propped up with pillows so I won't keep waking up in the night choking on half digested food coming back up my throat in my sleep. I could not accept a life without *real* hope, without freedom. I could not... I cannot... live that way anymore. It is foreign to me now, and has so much less to do with weight than it has to do with a change of thinking... a change of heart.

I believe in myself. That's more than words now. I used to say that, but it was just a token gesture to the broken girl underneath. Now, I really do believe in me.

Thank you for believing in me, too.

Free Month of Medifast Giveaway

It's my birthday coming up real soon, and I wanted to do something special that might give someone else a hand on their weight loss journey. So I asked, and Medifast answered that yes, they'd provide a FREE four-week starter kit of Medifast food for a giveaway on my blog! (I know some of you don't really care about the Medifast stuff, so feel free to skip and come back later for 'other' content! But I am excited to offer this!)

So here's the deal. I've been on Medifast for 19 weeks now. I really like it. It's helped me with my binge issues and I've dropped 39 pounds. As I've said before, it's not a magic bullet and it's not right for *everybody* but I do think it can be very helpful for some who have a lot of weight to lose and need the structure. So if you think you'd like to give Medifast a shot, enter this giveaway by leaving me a comment. Here's the rules (my rules... not made by Medifast, but by me):

1. I would like this gift to go to someone who has not tried Medifast before.
2. I'd like you to be 100% ready and committed to following the program for the full four weeks. I'd hate to see such an awesome prize wasted, so if you enter, be willing to stick with the program!
3. Please understand what Medifast is: you eat 5 prepackaged meals every day and one Lean & Green meal that you make yourself (which consists of lean protein and vegetables and healthy fat). You can have one allowed snack also but you really do have to cut out ALL the other crap... NO junk, NO extras. Read about the program here and decide if it's something you want to do.
4. You may want to consult your doctor to be sure this plan is okay for your circumstances. Check here for contraindications.
5. USA only (this one IS a Medifast rule... they've had issues shipping to Canada recently. Sorry!)

Leave me a comment telling me a little about yourself and why you want to try Medifast. Your comment MUST include a way for me to contact you, whether it is linked to your screen name, a link to your blog, or an email address. If you link to your blog I will probably take a look at it, because I am going to try to pick someone who I think this will benefit.

The person who is chosen for this giveaway will receive by mail, free of charge, a box of  143 Medifast Meals which retails for $299.50. I will also offer to personally mentor this person via email to help them succeed with the program. There are also message boards for support that I will introduce you to. I am hoping this will really help someone who needs it. Yes, this is a way for Medifast to advertise, but for me, it is coming from the heart. I do care about you folks.

So leave a comment to enter. A winner will be chosen on Tuesday, July 20th.

*FTC-required disclosure: Medifast provided me with its products for my personal use for free. Medifast states an "average weight loss of up to 2 to 5 pounds a week."*

This Week

This was a fun week for me and my family, and successful on the weight loss front as well. I weighed in at 195 pounds this morning which is a 3-pound loss this week. I feel pretty good about that, especially since I am PMSing and feeling icky and bloated right now. It's funny... I was looking back through a Stat Sheet I made up awhile back, where I input all my known weights through the years, and I saw that when I was fully nine months pregnant with my third child, I weighed 190 pounds! That was the heaviest I had EVER been. I felt like an absolute whale. I'd been living in Kentucky, eating lots of fried chicken, homemade macaroni and cheese, BBQ ribs, and chocolate cream pies (because it was 'for the baby!') and hit a new high. I look at my body now and think, "how on earth do I weigh five pounds MORE now than I did when I was fat AND nine months pregnant with an 8-pound baby boy??" It's astonishing! But I don't look pregnant now... unless thighs can be pregnant! I actually feel pretty skinny these days. My, how time changes perspective.

Anyway, this week was very hot outside (100+) so I was cooped up more than I like. I did manage to get in a few walks in the evening. My exercise looked like this:

Three 1-mile walks
One 3/4 mile walk
One walk to the park with my daughter

As for food, here are some of the meals I ate this week:

Spaghetti squash topped with pasta sauce and local, grass fed ground beef
Several Egg Beater omelets filled with spinach, mushrooms, and low fat cheese
Salads and fresh cucumbers
Curried tuna salad over mixed greens and broccoli with light sun dried tomato dressing
Lunch out at a restaurant: grilled chicken breast topped with sauteed mushrooms and Swiss cheese, with a side salad of lettuce, cabbage, tomatoes, and blue cheese dressing. Iced tea with lemons to drink.
Taco salad made from local grass fed beef, canned tomatoes, and taco seasoning over Romaine tossed with light salsa ranch dressing
Buffalo ribeye steak on the grill with cauliflower "potato" salad

Lots of yumminess this week, as well as my usual Medifast meals and lots of water. I also had the occasional cup of iced coffee with a bit of half and half, and several mugs of green tea.

So, you see, it wasn't a *hard* week. I didn't kill myself exercising and I enjoyed my food. I didn't feel deprived at all. And the other day when I hosted a birthday party, I had such a nice time visiting and playing with kids that I never once thought about eating or even tasting one of the cupcakes I'd made. I baked them, I decorated them, I handled them and served them, but they did not call to me AT ALL. They may as well have been rocks sitting there.

I'm happy to see 3 more pounds gone, and I am very much looking forward to another successful week!

Healed

Several years ago, I got the phone call no daughter wants: my mother had cancer. Ovarian cancer. She was in the advanced stages, and there'd be no cure. Two years, maybe five years at best, the surgeon told me. She'd have some chemo and then we'd see how it went.

I was 2000 miles away and had not seen my mother in three years; in fact, I'd only seen her three times in the past 12 years because of the religious shunning I'd been subject to (which I have detailed before). But I wanted to spend time with her and try to heal the wounds before she died. I was her only child, and she was my only living parent. It needed to be healed. I needed it.

She said no, not to come. The religious issues were too deep. But I went anyway. I went with my youngest son to spend some time with her if I could. I was planning to stay 3 weeks with a friend and visit her and try to let her know I loved her, independent of any religion.

I arrived at the airport around midnight on the Fourth of July. I stayed in a hotel and then drove off to see my mother. When I walked into her home I was absolutely unprepared for what I saw. I'd expected to see my mother, a bit tired from the surgery but in good enough spirits to sit up and talk. I expected to care for her and let my little boy cheer her with his smile and laughter. Instead I found a woman who could not walk herself to the bathroom... who was hooked to IV's and unable to take any food by mouth. She looked tired and drawn, and was very weak as I sat on her bed and held the little cup of Pepsi up close to her so she could take sips through the straw... just sips. Her appearance and inability to function frightened my young son, and I had to find him a babysitter. I sat with her all day. She looked at me with the saddest eyes. "I always loved you, you know that..." she said. "I know. I love you Mom," I answered.

In the evening the hospice nurse told me she had a matter of weeks to live. I was shocked and horrified. I'd come to spend a few weeks rebuilding a relationship and instead this might be my last visit... this might be the end. The religious leaders of her church came, and told me I should go. I wanted to stay with her, to sleep on the couch and be by her side to care for her in the night, but they told me I was not welcome. I looked at my mother, and she said, "it's best if you go." I stood, kissed her, and said, "I'll be back in the morning. I love you Mom."

The night was long. I did not sleep. How could this happen? Diagnosed 11 days prior, how could she be dying? It seemed unreal.

I went to her in the morning. She was not conscious. She slept in a hospice bed in her living room where my children had played one time with a truck and some stuffed animals, three years prior when my mother had attempted suicide. I'd come to her then, too. But now, she wanted to live. "I'm going to fight this," she'd told me. "I know I will beat this."

She lay there sleeping fitfully all morning, not really waking, not able to speak. The hospice nurse went on break. People went home. I sat with her. She woke and rose briefly just moments before she died in my arms, and left me screaming alone, the cries of an orphaned child unfamiliar with death. I sat by her side, holding her hand, sobbing for hours until they came to take her away. It was the worst day of my life.

I couldn't eat for a solid day. But when I did, it was the worst binge you could ever imagine. I still cannot fathom it... how I could eat so much without dying myself. The sheer volume of food was astounding. But I didn't care. I couldn't stop. I kept going back to the grocery store, three and four times in a day, buying box after box of Tastykakes and donuts and every manner of junk food. How could I care about food when my mother had just died? I didn't. I didn't care about the food. I was just trying to kill the pain. Oh, the pain.

It would never go away. Never. I had flashbacks and nightmares and couldn't even bear to speak about it for a year. Every July the memories came flooding back... starting with seeing the fireworks on the 4th of July and remembering how they looked from the airplane as I landed near midnight. Every year I ached and wept.

And then my daughter was born.

I was in the hospital on the 4th of July, and my baby was not in good shape. Neither was I. I might need to be delivered soon although she was a mere two and a half pounds. I cried and begged and prayed she would not be born on the day my mother died... it was an omen, I thought. I could not lose my baby.

She was not born on that day, but several days later. She was sick. She might not make it. They discharged me from the hospital on my birthday, without my baby. I got home and couldn't bear to be without her and immediately drove back. I pumped milk for her, weeping and cursing the loud, painful machine that took my milk when I wanted to be quietly feeding my soft, sweet smelling child in my arms. I was so scared, so angry. I loved her so.

Almost six weeks passed and they let me bring her home, just over 4 pounds. She was on monitors and oxygen and medications for months, but she was home and she was mine. That first year was traumatic in some ways but richly blessed in others.

Every July I'd feel the pain on the 4th. I'd think of my dying mother. I'd remember the pain of losing her. I'd look down at the angry red scar slashing across my belly where they pulled my tiny daughter from my body, and I'd weep. I would have that scar for the rest of my life.

This year, as always we went to the fireworks. A few days later I was lying next to my daughter in her bed telling her stories, singing her songs, tucking her in. She fell asleep next to me an I looked at her angelic face  and felt such joy. She is such a precious gift to me! The day had been filled with happiness. And as I looked at my sweet girl asleep for the night, I realized what day it was. It was the day my mother died. And I smiled... not because of the date, but because I HAD FORGOTTEN. I had gone through not only the fourth, but several days after, and the sadness, the mourning had not even crossed my mind. I smiled because I understood that something in me had finally healed. I can still remember if I want to, but I don't have to. It doesn't consume me nor overtake me. Not the death of my mother, not the shunning, not the near loss of my child. I have finally grown enough to leave it, and live the life I have now.

I looked in the mirror this morning, and something was different. I looked down. Where was the scar? Gone. It's actually gone. Not faded, not lightened to pink, not raised. There is no trace of that scar. Just smooth, fair skin. You could not even tell I had a c-section by looking. It is gone. It is healed.

My daughter's birthday is now one of complete joy and wonder. And just to give you a glimpse into my happiness, look what I made for her:

A castle cake, complete with flags, flowers, and princesses. I made it from scratch and she was thrilled. And you know what? This castle cake made me SO HAPPY, and I didn't even have a taste. Not a lick of a beater, not a taste of batter, not a crumb or a slice or a bite. I didn't need to get *anything* from this castle cake except the joy I found in creating it for the beautiful, amazing princess I am blessed to have for my daughter.

Take the time to heal. Find the joy again. Letting go of the past and embracing THIS DAY and its beauty makes all the difference.

Split Seconds to Success

As I was walking the other day in the morning heat, I was thinking about the whole process of losing weight. It really is not one huge *thing.* It's hundreds.... thousands... of tiny little steps and choices all linked together to make a whole. Every step or non-step is taking you in *some* direction, whether you notice or not.

I walked down the sidewalk into a bit of breeze. The sun was hot but tolerable. When I turned the corner on my walking route, the sun was behind me and I began heading uphill. Every step was a little less enjoyable. The sun was scorching on my back, and the hill seemed longer than usual. "Keep going," I thought, "another step." I wanted to turn back and go home and have a glass of lemonade. But I set my sights at the top of the hill. "Just get to the top of the hill," I told myself, "and then you can go home." (I was trying to trick myself, because 'the top of the hill' happens to be the exact halfway point of my mile walk. So one I get there, whether I continue 'round the block or turn and go back the way I came, I've done my mile).

Step after step, I kept going. Up, up, up. Every second that passed I was deciding whether to continue or not. And when I got to the top, I turned the corner into the shade, went around the block, and finished my mile.

It's like that with food, with exercise, with drinking water or eating junk or having a binge. Split second decisions, linked together, make the whole result. In a second you can look at the cheese Danish on the counter and either take a bite or shove it deep into the trash. In a split second in the grocery store, you can walk away from the chips or touch them and put them in your cart. It takes a second to walk past the kitchen or to go into the kitchen for a glass of water (or a candy bar). Every time you say 'yes' or 'no' or 'later' in your head, it is a step down one path or another. The key is to focus on which path you truly want, and make *most* of your steps in the right direction.

Pay attention to those daily, split second, almost unconscious choices. Did you choose to add extra cream to your coffee? Or to sit on the couch instead of being active? It is not about devoting hours and hours to fitness. It is about that moment in time when you either put on your workout shoes or don't. The rest follows... choice by choice.

When I got home from my walk, I felt glad. I was pleased with the choices I'd made. Not every choice is a perfect one, and sometimes I make a mindless (or even mindful) decision that puts me back a few steps from where I want to be. But paying attention is the first step to *better* steps. Every step counts.

Low Carb Cauliflower "Potato" Salad, A Great Healthy Recipe!

Here's a fun summertime barbecue recipe that's healthier and much lower in fat and carbs than the usual potato salad. Tastes great and goes very well with lean burgers on the grill! This is a recipe that will stay with me for life. I won't ever make regular potato salad again when I can have this much more nutritious recipe instead.

Cauliflower "Potato" Salad

2 and 2/3 cups steamed cauliflower
3 scallions (green onions), white and green parts, chopped
1/4 cup finely diced celery
1 hard boiled egg, chopped
3 Tbsp light mayonnaise
1/2 Tbsp yellow mustard
1/4 tsp salt
1/8 tsp black pepper
sprinkle of dill

If you are starting with a head of fresh cauliflower, you can quarter it and steam it for about 15 minutes, or until the cauliflower is tender. Texture is key here; you want it to be about the same texture as cooked potatoes would be for potato salad. Not too firm, and definitely NOT mushy. Use a fork to test it as it cooks. As soon as it is tender, remove from the heat and rinse in cold water for several minutes until the cauliflower is all cold. Then set on paper towels to drain, and pat dry if necessary. You don't want it to be wet when you add ingredients.

Chop the cauliflower into small bites (like potatoes in potato salad). Place in a bowl with the scallions, celery, and eggs. Gently toss together. Then add the mayo, mustard, salt and pepper; fold together gently with a spatula until well combined. Sprinkle a little dill over the top. Cover and chill for at least an hour.

This recipe makes two very large ( 1 1/2 cup) servings or four smaller 3/4 cup servings.
One large serving (half the recipe) contains:
140 calories
11 g carbs
9 g fat
7 g protein
So, 1/4 recipe (3/4 cup) has 70 calories, 5.5 g carbs, 4.5 g fat, 3.5 g protein.

The breakdown for Medifast is:
1/2 recipe yields 1 full Green (3 veg servings), 1/6 Lean, and under 2 1/2 condiments.

*notes: I thought it could use a little more salt, maybe some onion powder; season to taste. If you can stand some extra calories/Lean serving, I think adding another hard boiled egg would be great! Whatever you use to season YOUR potato salad, you can use in this recipe; some ideas are Dijon mustard instead of yellow, chopped Dill pickles or pickle relish, paprika, or a slice of crumbled, crisp bacon. I actually needed some extra protein when I ate these as leftovers the next day, so I added another chopped egg and some chopped dill pickle and it was fabulous! Enjoy!

Controversial

What I am doing to lose weight seems to be controversial in some way. I'm not sure why complete strangers or casual acquaintances have any interest or investment in what I eat or don't eat, or what other people choose to eat. There was a lady I knew who'd lost a lot of weight by going vegan. Her friends and family labelled her a 'fanatic,' and told her she was foolish for cutting out meat and dairy and that there was no way she'd be able to sustain it. She got to be the butt of jokes, and heard tales around her office about how she'd gone crazy and done drastic things to lose her weight. Another lady I used to talk with lost weight by cutting out junk food and eating lots of natural foods. Her 'friend' berated her for eating a banana as a snack, because it had "too much sugar." And me? I eat out of packets. I don't eat fruit at all. And I get "you're just going to gain it all back" and "you're hurting your body" comments as well as "you're losing mostly muscle" because I am eating an average of only 900 calories per day.

Extreme? Maybe. I'd say yes, 900 calories per day is extreme. Eating out of packets and cutting out sugar, flour, grains, milk, potatoes, and fruits is extreme. But I think I had an extreme problem. And I do not think extreme = bad, in all cases.

I've mentioned before how I went to my doctor 9 weeks into Medifast for a complete physical and health assessment. My doctor was amazed at the improvement in my health, and my blood work was much better as well. My "nutritional assessment" was great (as shown by blood work) and my doctor told me to keep on doing Medifast. My headaches, heart palpitations, and acid reflux disappeared. My joint pain was reduced dramatically. And because I am eating 75-110 grams of quality protein per day, I am not losing muscle mass. So, since I am getting good, healthy results from my method, why would people attack it?

Maybe part is jealousy. A lot of times people feel threatened seeing someone else succeed at weight loss. In fact we all have those feelings to some extent. When I was stalled for 20 months I'd see other bloggers getting to goal and I'd panic and wonder, "how can they do it? what is wrong with me? if they can do it and I can't, maybe I am defective!" I was wrong... I was not defective... but the feelings were still there. And people might see your weight loss as a threat in that way, or because you'll be sexy and get more guys than they will, or you'll be a *different person* than the familiar fat one they know and love.

Another part is ignorance, I think... People think of 900 calories and imagine trying to get enough nutrition in there to sustain a person, and it is very difficult to do. It almost takes a professional... a doctor... a nutritionist. And that is exactly who designed this program. I get what I need from my 900 calories. My body is in better health than it has been in over 15 years. I am stronger, happier, more capable. Yet, it is hard for people to fathom that ANYONE can exist on 900 calories.

Picture this:
Me on the couch, drinking Coke, eating hot dogs on white buns and Cheetos, polishing off a batch of brownie batter and having Pizza Rolls dipped in Ranch for dinner. Probably taking in 3500 calories per day, minimum. How much nutrition do you think I was getting?
Not enough protein.
Too many refined carbs.
WAY too much fat, salt, and sugar.
Very little in the way of fiber or nutrients unless I took a vitamin.
No water.

Now, picture this:
Me working in the yard, drinking green tea, coming in to fix my packets of Medifast food every couple of hours, drinking tons of water, walking my daughter to the park, and fixing fresh vegetables and lean meat sauteed in olive oil for dinner. How much nutrition do you think I was getting?
Plenty of high quality protein (75-110 grams).
Very limited refined carbs (80-85 grams of carbs per day).
About 20% of my calories from HEALTHY fats.
Limited sodium and almost no sugar.
Plenty of fiber and nutrients not only in the packets but in the fresh vegetables I eat daily.
16 oz of water at every meal and snack, and more in between.

Which ME was in better shape nutritionally? Which ME has a better quality of life?
Unequivocally, the latter.

Sure, there is something in between. There was the me who counted calories for 2+ years, averaging about 1500-1700 per day, eating lots of healthy foods but not enough protein, and still too much junk and sugar. Still the binges several times a month. Still not able to consistently lose weight.

People see me thinner, happier, stronger. Yet some still feel the need to say,
"That's not healthy!"
As if they know better than my doctor. As if they understand my body better than I do.
And so it is controversial, eating out of packets. Some say it's great, some say it's foolish.

But here is what I say.

THANK GOODNESS I did not listen to the worry in my head when I was offered free Medifast... the worry that said, "people who read your blog won't like this. They might not read anymore. They might think you are nuts, eating out of packets. They might think you sold out."

Thank goodness I did not say NO to the offer because of THAT. Thank goodness I did my research and felt right about it and did what I believed was best for *me*... not for my blog, not for readers, not for Medifast. For ME. I don't get anything out of Medifast but the free food I eat, and they could not pay me a million bucks to LIE on my blog about what their diet is like. I've said in my reviews that some meals taste like crap. I've said it isn't easy, it is still work. It is not a magic bullet. But I also will say, this is right for *me* at this time.I took Medifast up on their offer because I have integrity. If I'd turned them down based on what my readers might think, I'd have been disloyal to myself. This whole journey... the blog... is about getting me healthier. I love that it helps others along the way... not necessarily by anyone trying the same diet *I* am trying, but by seeing that you have to find a way that works for *you* and stick by it and do it day after day after day until you get to your goals. You have to be loyal to YOU.

So don't let people bring you down. You'll hear all kinds of nonsense on your journey, from "you're eating too much" to "you're eating too little," "you exercise too much" and "you're skinny enough as it is." Know yourself. Ask your doctor. Research your options. Switch plans and speeds when necessary. And do what is best for YOUR body... because what anyone else says about it is *their* business. Not your issue. You shouldn't have to defend your food choices. I explain mine so that people understand... but if the Food Police comes knockin' on my door and is not interested in facts or explanations, I send them packing.

And that can be controversial too :)

July is a Good Month

Good morning! I hope everyone had a nice holiday weekend. We did... fireworks, BBQ and all! Yesterday morning I weighed in at 198 pounds, which was a maintain for the week. Considering my couple days off plan, I will take a maintain. I did see the scale go up after my days of poor choices, but I forced myself to get back on plan 100%. It was hard, I won't try to fool ya. I kept wanting junk. I had visions of pizzas and chips and donuts in my head. It took a lot for me not to go down to the store and buy crap foods. I even had a moment where my inner brat was demanding McDonald's... but no, I am NOT going back there, not now, not ever. It's been about 9 months since I last went there. Pretty good, considering at one point it was a 4-times-a-week habit... and occasionally, on my bad weeks, more.

Yesterday after a day of healthy eating and a one mile walk, I made burgers on the grill for the kids and a buffalo steak for myself. I made a yummy low carb potato salad (no potatoes included... recipe coming this week) and really enjoyed my meal. I was full and satisfied. But I had bought a bag of Sun Chips for the kids to have with their burgers, too. I don't DO chips right now, so they have not had any in months (unless they bought their own) so it was a special treat for them. Watching them eat chips bothered me a little. I wished I could eat them. And then later that night, a friend mentioned having powdered donuts. I almost had a fit right there. I wanted DONUTS and it was like I couldn't stop thinking about them. I just kept telling myself I want HEALTH more than I want junk food. Not easy. But I got through it.

We were up late watching fireworks and had a nice time. This morning, I hit a new low! 196 pounds! I am so excited. And I am so glad I didn't give in to my cravings.

July is my birthday month (and my daughter's as well). It is a special month for me. I LOVE July. I always feel like I want to give myself a special birthday gift, so this month my gift to myself is to feed my body healthy foods, enjoy some fun outdoor activity, and lose weight. It's the best thing I can give myself. That, and self love. You all know how much I love cooking, too, so I will be trying and making up new recipes this month and posting the good ones on my blog. Don't miss my planked salmon recipe that I posted the other day! It's a good one. And I have a special giveaway coming up this week too.

Thank you all for the fantastic support during a really rough week. Your kindness and prayers and good thoughts helped get me through. And I feel stronger and more capable this week to deal with anything that I need to. When I have anymore updates on my son I will let you know. My daughter is doing great! And I am happy.

And how are YOU? What's your plan for July?

Cedar Planked Salmon: a Recipe for the 4th of July

If you're wondering what to make this Independence Day that is healthy and delicious and NOT seem like "diet food," I have an amazing and EASY recipe for you: Cedar Planked Salmon! Salmon is rich in omega-3's, high in protein, and carb free! It's a fancy meal for guests or a simple meal for family, and goes great on the grill for summertime cooking.

If you've never planked salmon before, you really should give this a try! I promise it is not complicated and the results are fantastic. Start with the freshest salmon you can find, even if that means frozen (thaw it before cooking). Wild salmon is much tastier and better for you than farmed. My son caught the wild salmon I grilled last night. Check with your grocery store's meat counter to find the freshest wild salmon you can. You'll need fillets for this recipe (not steaks) but it doesn't matter if the skin is on one side or not.

The next important thing you'll need is a Cedar plank. You can also use an Alder plank for this recipe. Make sure you get *untreated,* food grade planks; you don't want to pick up some old cedar siding and cook your food on it because the chemicals will leach into your fish. Anyway, you need to soak your plank for a couple of hours before cooking with it. Just put it in a sink or a container full of water and place something heavy on it to keep it submerged, like so:

Soak it for at least 2 hours. You can even soak it overnight if you want.

Start your grill and get it hot. I use a charcoal grill but a gas grill is fine. While it is heating, prep your fish. You want the fillets to sit out on the counter for 15 minutes or so before cooking them. Then rub a little olive oil over both sides of the fillet. If it has skin on one side, you will cook it skin side down. Mine had no skin.

Sprinkle the oiled fish with freshly ground black pepper and some of your best salt (sea salt is nice)... not too much. I like to use Himalayan Crystal Salt because it is cute and pink, tastes good, and is supposed to have health benefits and be better for you because it is unrefined and contains lots of natural minerals for good health.

Take your plank out of the water and put it on the hot grill for a couple of minutes. Then go out and brush a little olive oil on the plank and lay your fish fillets on top. Shut the lid. The plank will smoke... a lot. If you soaked it, it shouldn't catch fire, but peek every so often and if the edges are starting to catch, lower your heat (if it is a gas grill) and just use a water sprayer or glass of water to douse any little flames. I have never had a plank catch fire.

(As an aside, the foil packet on my grill is filled with fresh asparagus sprinkled with a bit of water and olive oil, Himalayan Crystal salt and pepper. I crimped the foil and put it on the grill at the same time as the fish and it was perfectly done at the same time).

Keep the lid closed except to peek at the board. After about 10 minutes your fillets *may* be done, so check them then. You can use a meat thermometer (135 degrees is about the right time to take them off) or just use the "flake" method, which I do: use a fork and sort of try to flake up some salmon in the thickest part of the fillet. If it looks raw it probably is. You do not want to overcook it though. It needs to be moist inside. If I can pry a flake out of the center I know it is done. Mine took exactly 15 minutes.

Mmmmm, so yummy! My whole family wolfed this down. Great stuff. I served this with grilled asparagus and a green salad. The kids also had brown & wild rice and whole wheat bread with theirs.

Have a healthy and happy 4th of July weekend!