Perspective

I watch the Biggest Loser. I've watched it every season since it began, and I used to be so religious about NEVER missing an episode that I would skip other events if they'd make me miss My Show. I loved it. It gave me so much hope the first couple of seasons. It *sort of* inspired me (I say *sort of* because it made me cry, it made me believe it was possible, it made me want it, it stirred something inside me... but I still ate chips and ice cream while I watched it, weighing 278 pounds).

A few seasons went by. I watched all these people losing weight. I'd lose 10 pounds sometimes, and then gain it back. Or not lose at all. At the end of each season they were thin, and I was morbidly obese Every time. And every time a new season came on I'd think, "hey, maybe I can do it with them this time." And they'd lose, and I'd stay fat. And I'd cry.

After awhile I guess I got numb to it or used to it, but I still loved watching people change their lives. Everyone loves a good before and after picture. I liked watching people who were my size get to a normal weight and I imagined what was possible for me. And during the last 3 years I have watched and felt pretty good that I was losing, too, finally.

This season was different. When it started, on the very first episode, it dawned on me that "hey... wait a minute... I *think* I weigh less than *every one of those contestants.*" It was truly a shocker for me, since usually the contestants began the Biggest Loser journey *lighter* than I was. I mean, you hardly ever saw a woman on there even on week 1 who was 278 pounds like I was. They were *starting* at 228 pounds or something and I'd think, geez, how would it be? How would it be to be 228 pounds? Gosh, I'd give my right arm to be that "fat." And then, this season, they were all heavier than me. And I was amazed and surprised and just... wow.

And even now, I watch it and a lot of them are still heavier than me after nine weeks of being on the show. And I have a hard time in my head, switching to a different mindset of not being *jealous* of their weight. This week, several of them were showcasing how they have lost 70, 80, 100 pounds and I am thinking WOW that is amazing! A hundred pounds! Incredible! Wait... I have done that. I have lost 70, 80, 100 pounds too. Haven't I? How is that even possible? And I look at myself and think, I have done something truly amazing. I have changed my life, like those people have, like I used to be so jealous of and cry over wanting it so badly. And I did it without Bob and Jillian. I did it. It seems like I am imagining it, still. It is hard to believe it is real! But it is.

It really *is* possible. Even for someone like me, who never felt strong enough, who never thought it would happen. If you want it, if you are afraid it can't happen, erase that thought. It can happen. It might take awhile, but it is SO WORTH IT.

Feeling Better

I am feeling much, MUCH better today, and have been on plan with no junky stuff at all. I threw out the sugar I'd bought last month to make a birthday cake for my son and was hanging onto to make Christmas cookies. It was bothering me, calling me to make brownies and cookies and stuff. I am better off without it.

I have been taking my D3 and other vitamins, and have been using my Sunrise clock every morning too. I have it set to rise between 6 and 7am. The light is very cool. It turns itself on *very dimly* at 6am and then gets brighter and brighter in small increments, like a sunrise, until it is at full brightness at 7am. I am waking up naturally around 6:45 each morning from the "sunrise" and that is much better than having a blaring alarm or a kid wake me up in the dark at 7. It feels like spring in the morning instead of winter. I originally had it set to take 30 minutes to "rise" but that was too fast for my brain, I guess, because I was still kinda groggy and even had a headache one morning. The 60 minute sunrise is just perfect. I am also using my Day Light full spectrum lamp, but not every day. I think I have more energy when I use it between 11am and 3pm. I also feel way better when I don't eat sugar.

I am pretty bloated, though, from my monthly cycle and the scale is not budging back downwards. It will, eventually. Funny thing today... I was out trying to find some snow boots for my little girl, and as I was walking up to the store I saw my reflection in the big glass doors. It's the first time I have seen myself at this weight in a winter coat and boots. I thought, "damn, I look good! I still look normal even though I feel huge." My legs did not look like stuffed sausages protruding out of the poofy coat and squooshed into wide boots. They looked like regular legs, kind sexy even in the boots. With space between them and everything. Way cool.

Tomorrow begins a whole new month. Winter is here!

A Message from my Gut

Second post today, but I need to post this...

I am feeling so horrible. Just sick. It seems that my body is really rebelling now anytime I eat crap food *at all.* In fact, a few days ago I had a rather frightening experience. I was at a friend's house and, after having been on plan all day, I had some coffee with *sugared* creamer (which I have not used in ages) and a cookie, a few slices of cheese, and a handful of chips. I was not stuffed, I did not overeat. I had small portions. When I came home I was in agony. I had pains in my stomach that were just horrid. I was lying on my bed wondering if I had food poisoning, or a gall bladder attack going on, or what. I could only sip peppermint tea for the rest of the evening, and once I got back to eating Medifast foods I felt 100% better the next day. Well, now, every time I have *anything* sugary I get sick. I am fine as long as I do not indulge, but when I have even one cookie/bite of candy/etc I get pains in my stomach. I also get a sugar withdrawal headache afterwards.

I guess I should take a clue that my body, after 8+ months of being mostly "off" sugar, no longer does well with sugar. This is a tough one for me. I always thought I'd be able to have "a little" of this or that sugary treat, but the way I feel after eating just one serving of sugary crap is unbelievably horrid. I end up laying on the floor or the couch for a few hours waiting for the misery to pass.

Now, I have no idea what exactly is being affected by sugar... pancreas, stomach, gall bladder, whatever... but I will tell you that I have reached the end of my rope with the sugar issue. It just has to stop. I have to come to terms with the fact that I am *not* going to be able to taste or eat my famous Christmas cookies or fudge this year, or next year, or the year after that, AT ALL. I am NOT going to be eating ice cream next summer, AT ALL. Oh, I will make my own frozen treats out of fresh fruit, but no more sugary crap. I just CAN'T! My body has changed enough that even a little bit is making me sick.

I feel great when I stay away from that crap. It's just a mental leap to go from my old ways of eating pint after pint of ice cream, packages of cookies, and whole batches of cookies to not having them at all. But I think that's what my body is saying. It's saying no more.

Success Without Perfection

I woke up with a migraine and rather ticked off at myself for yet again having "just a bit" of off plan food *right* at the end of the day, after a perfectly on-plan, 100% great day. It seems to happen more and more often lately, just after I get the kids to bed at night, when the house is quiet and the kitchen calls me.

I woke up this morning and as I came to consciousness and realized what I had done, I got mad. A lot of thoughts went through my just-waking mind, from excuses to rationalizations to commitments:

WHY does it have to STILL be hard, even after losing 100 pounds?
I hate feeling like I am not in control of myself. I feel like my mind is not in control of my body.
WHY did I feel so much more in control last month than this month?
How is it even possible to go a solid month with NO off plan eating, feeling great, and then have weeks on end where it seems impossible to complete one solid day of eating right?

I started thinking about my friend who has seizures. How it is beyond her control and she can be walking down the hallway and boom, she is seizing. She can take medication, but she cannot make them stop completely. Her body is out of her control. My eating is not like a seizure... it is certainly *more* in my control than that. But it feels that way sometimes. I feel like I step outside my body and watch my hands going to the cabinet and unwrapping a granola bar and putting it in my mouth while I helplessly observe. It makes no sense. I rationally KNOW that I am in control of my body, so why does it feel so out of control in the moment?

I dunno, it really bothers me. I am an intelligent person. I have decided I am NOT going to be obese anymore. I have put myself first, given myself the tools, focused on my goals. I do not want to eat off plan. Yet I do it. Like an alcoholic drawn to the drink even with the images of his small children in his mind. Why? Why does a person go to a bar and have that first drink when they have already become sober, changed their life, focused on the important things? It happens. Drug addicts relapse. It's more than just habit, or lack of "will power" or lack of character.

But for all those who relapse, there are many who don't. It IS possible to succeed... the get away from addiction or harmful behaviors that we no longer wish to continue. People do it every day. Yet look at the weight loss world. It's full of people trying and screwing up. Look at all the bloggers who start losing weight and stop or stall or regain. You cannot tell me that ALL of those people, myself included are "not committed enough" or "just making excuses" or "don't want it bad enough." There is a lot of physical and mental and emotional *stuff* going on far beyond the calories.

That said, I know it can be done. I truly BELIEVE any of us can succeed. If I can lose 100 pounds, with all my screw ups and lapses and hard days, I believe you can do it too. I am *so* imperfect that I *still* get emails and comments about what a failure I am when my eating is not perfect! Thank goodness I don't take them seriously... but I know some bloggers who do. You get that anonymous comment telling you what a screw up you are, and you start to believe it. Don't! It's not about you, it's their issue. Whether you have lost 5 pounds or 20 or 50 or NO weight or 100 pounds, people will complain if you are not fitting *their* ideal for THEMSELVES. So stop trying to fit their mold. Fit your own mold.

I know this post is a little rambling, but here is my point: you do NOT have to be perfect to succeed. You just have to do your best and CONSISTENTLY put forth the effort to lose weight regardless of the screw ups. You do not have to "cure" your food issues to lose weight. Do you think because I ate cookies last night that I will hate myself and eat junk today and think I will never reach my goal and gain back 100 pounds? No! I tell you what... I did wake up mad. I did wake up feeling like a victim. And then I said, listen, self. Just do your best, it is good enough, I love you. And I smiled in the mirror at the beautiful, powerful, successful woman that I am.

Let your results speak for you. If you have not yet found success, try something different. Add exercise, count calories, go low carb, eat more protein, find more support. Something. Keep trying. At any point, you can put down the drink and walk out of the bar. And if you find yourself there again, you can walk out again. Eventually you will start "waking up" sooner and sooner, notice you are driving towards the bar and turn the car around before you even get there. This is HARD WORK, more mental than physical in my case. But you don't have to feel hopeless and out of control anymore.

Turkey Soup and Beer Bread

Good heavens, I do not like what the scale is saying to me right now, but I am 100% on plan and figure it has to stabilize back down and hit a new low eventually.

Today I am making my favorite, delicious Turkey Soup and Beer Bread (soup for everyone, bread for the kids) for dinner. If you have turkey bones in the fridge from Thanksgiving... wings, drumsticks, and/or just the whole leftover turkey) I urge you to make some soup out of it! Turkey bones make fantastic stock. Even if you're not in the mood for soup, just make the stock and freeze it for later. You won't regret it! The recipe is in the link above, but I tweaked it a bit today:

Yesterday I threw the whole turkey carcass, wings, skin, all the pan drippings etc in a big pot of water and leftover chicken broth with a bunch of garlic, onions, celery tops, a bay leaf, thyme, poultry seasoning, sliced ginger, bit of cayenne, carrots, black pepper, and sea salt. I simmered it all with the lid on for 3 hours. Oh, the house smelled fantastic! Kids were running into the kitchen drooling and asking for whatever was cooking! Then I strained out the bones and threw them away. I cooled the broth slightly, put it in my fat separator (I love this tool and use it all the time!) and put the defatted broth through a mesh sieve back into the pot. I put that big pot of cooled, very flavorful broth in the fridge to use today (but you can use it right away!)

I am going to warm it up and make 2 different pots of soup. The large pot, for the kids, will have diced celery, chunks of leftover turkey, carrots, potatoes, leftover gravy for thickening, and some large egg noodles. The small pot, for me, will have diced celery, turkey breast chunks, chopped fresh kale, and whatever other veggies I find in the fridge... maybe green beans, broccoli, and zucchini. I *love* the smell of turkey soup and I can hardly wait for a nice, warming dinner!

Try it, you will love it! Enjoy your Sunday!

Do It Now

As easy as it is to put off eating right/losing weight until tomorrow, don't do it. Tomorrow becomes the next day, which becomes Monday, which becomes December 1st, which, at this time of year especially, will become a new year's resolution which turns into an extra month of eating crap. So don't let it slide, do it now.

It is no easier for me than it is for you. It is not easy to throw away things I know I'd like to eat but I shouldn't... it is not easy to stare the mashed potatoes in the face and let them be (for the kids), and it is not easy to go to a kid's birthday party and turn down red velvet cupcakes that you know you'll dream about for weeks afterward. It is not easy for me to sit through a sugar withdrawal headache that is so bad it makes me nauseous, knowing that just one sweet latte or bowl of pudding would cure it completely. It is not easy for me to let my stomach growl a bit in between meals and skip the extra snacking when that cheese and crackers looks sooo good. But you know what? It just has to be done, unless we want to stay fat, and it is not going to get any easier. Sooner is better than later.

The best time to plant a shade tree in your yard is 20 years ago. The second best time is today.

Damages?

I haven't been reading any blogs yet today, but I remember last year there were lots of posts after Thanksgiving (usually on the following Monday) about the "damages." As in, how many pounds were gained by eating "too much" of the "wrong stuff." And I used to feel that way too.

Not anymore.

I don't see transitory pounds as "damages." I don't see them as some horrid thing you have to go into overdrive to "fix". I realize this might not be a popular view, but getting less obsessed about weight/pounds/doing it "right" has helped me have a more relaxed and pleasant life. But there is a fine line between being relaxed and ignoring weight gain... which could lead to more and more weight gain.

I also really detest the whole "well it is not real weight, there is no way you ate over 10,000 extra calories to gain 3 pounds" logic. Listen, folks. It is NEVER 100% fat when we are talking about losing or gaining weight. It is *not* a simple calories in, calories out thing. Otherwise, there is no way I could have gained 40 pounds in 3 months back several years ago (which, by the way, was a gain seen by my doctor on HIS scale). There would be no way I could gain 8 or 10 pounds in a week if it was a simple calorie equation and if it was ALL FAT. But I have in the past, verified by 2 different scales at home.

So if you are up 3 or 5 or 8 pounds this week from over-indulging in holiday treats, remember this:
It IS real weight, but it is not all fat.
If you drink a quart of water, and then weigh yourself, you will have "gained" over a pound. But it is just the weight of that water added to your body.
If you eat 2 pounds of food, you will immediately have "gained" two pounds, because it is the weight of your body PLUS two pounds of food in your stomach.
That weight is part of you and your knees have to carry it around... until you pee it out (etc).
Eating sugar and carbs causes water retention. So does high sodium intake. I believe I read that for every one gram of carbs you retain three grams of water in your body to store the carbs. So... for simplicity's sake, if I am storing a pound of (digested) carbs in my body, I am also retaining 3 pounds of water.

Now. I have not talked about my weight for a couple of weeks. I was trying to get my head straight, and the weight thing was annoying me. But in the few days I have been using my light box and taking my supplements, I feel *better enough* that I think my head IS straight, or straight enough to get myself back on plan 100% tomorrow. I have been doing this "eat on plan for 3/4 of the day, and then eat cookies or brownie batter for dinner" thing. It's sort of been an education for me, to not totally "let go" and eat crazy all day or go into the mindset of "oh well, I am not 100% on plan so I may as well eat whatever I want." I still told myself no to Starbucks when I was out yesterday. I still did not make stuffing or yams or a cake for Thanksgiving. I still ate Medifast foods most of the time. But I also ate a few slices of buttered French bread yesterday and a muffin this morning. I still ate too much turkey, although I stuck with breast meat. I ate too much green bean casserole, too. But ya know, I feel like it's a victory that I have made *better* choices and eaten on plan a good part of the time. It's a much better place than I have ever been when I was feeling depressed and eating stuff like brownie batter.

When I post that kind of thing I always get some critics who want to tell me what a moron I am for not panicking or berating myself for eating bread or cookies or whatever. I get people who want to try to make me feel bad for not doing it their way, or doing it "right" or whatever. I get the whole "tough love" approach, almost always from people who forget the "love" part, post as "anonymous" and tell me to buck up/stop making excuses/quit eating crap. But guess what, I have been getting those comments for months... years. And I ignore them. Because I do not need "anonymous" or any negativity to motivate me to lose weight. I lost 100+ pounds, I went up and down here and there, I ate off plan and on plan. But the overall result speaks for itself, and I hope it will continue to do so. I lose weight with positive motivation, not negativity, and it has taken me a long time to *change my mindset* to the positive. If you are angry at *yourself* for going off plan, or if you are angry that you did *not* go off plan but I did, please examine that feeling. I think hostile comments do, in fact, say more about the person leaving them than about anything I am doing. I feel great about my progress, no guilt about my holiday, and not panicked about any weight gain at the moment. I have a plan, I am working it, and this weight is coming off at the rate that is best for *me* and for my long term success.

Anyway, as I said, if you're up a few pounds (as I am) from indulging, just do your thing. Don't feel horrible about yourself. Smile, drink your water, eat your veggies, and do whatever exercise you are committed to. Those pounds will come back off and fast unless you drag out the indulgence for more days or weeks. As soon as I cut back the salt, sugar, and carbs, I drop pounds super fast as the water is released from my body. As soon as my sluggish digestive system speeds back up from the addition of good veggies like cabbage, broccoli, and green beans, those extra pounds of digesting food will be gone. My body is not "damaged" from these days off plan. Neither is yours. But it could be, very easily, if you or I continue indulging right through Christmas. Now's the time to give 100% again. And I am doing just that!

Weight updates will be included on December 1st :)

Thankful

One of my favorite smells in the whole world is the aroma of roasting turkey.

When I was a young girl, I was in a religion that celebrated no holidays, so we never had a Thanksgiving dinner with (or without) all the trimmings. But I do have some vivid Thanksgiving memories. I always had the day off school, of course, and my mother took advantage of that fact to take me out in the morning, starting at 9 a.m., to knock on doors and do some preaching. I walked along the icy sidewalks, Bible in hand, frigid air swirling around my legs and dress. Sometimes people were annoyed with us for showing up at their doors on a family holiday; other times, I noticed the smile and look of compassion, especially towards me (if not towards my mother). But everywhere we went, there was this smell: the smell of turkeys roasting, pies baking, and gravy being made. It was a warm, inviting smell that wafted up and down every street, bursting out of toasty homes when people opened their doors. The smell of roasting, stuffed turkeys was so enticing that all I could think about as we walked was how good that meal would taste. Even now, whenever I smell a roasting turkey, I am immediately transported back to those icy sidewalks, Bible in hand.

When we got cold enough, after three hours or so, my mom would take me home or to McDonald's for some hot cocoa. And at home, although my father was not a "believer," it was just another day for us. No family, no celebration, no talk of thankfulness, and certainly no turkey. I remember asking my mother if we couldn't PLEASE roast a turkey and have stuffing and mashed potatoes and rolls, and she snapped "NO! That would be CELEBRATING Thanksgiving!" When I reasoned that we could do it a few days before or after the holiday, she told me it would STILL be celebrating, because we would be mimicking "the world" and having a November feast like them. And we had to remain "no part of the world."

My Dad did sneak and buy a turkey once when they were on sale at Thanksgiving, much to the displeasure of my mother. But he respected her wishes and roasted it in January, well after the holiday season so no one could mistake our roasted bird for some kind of holiday tradition. There was no stuffing or pies, but the turkey was delicious, as was the turkey-and-rice soup my Dad made with the bones later. I still make that soup whenever I have turkey bones from a dinner.

One year my aunt invited us to come up to visit for a few days in November. My mother and I usually made the five hour drive to visit relatives sometime in October, but for some reason, our plans this year fell right on Thanksgiving weekend. In fact, we were going to arrive at my aunt's home ON Thanksgiving day, right about dinnertime. I was SO excited! I knew that all of my aunts and uncles and cousins would be there, and Grandma too, and I knew my aunt, who was a fantastic cook, would have the whole turkey dinner prepared that night. I could not believe my good fortune! But on the way there, my mother made it very clear that it would be very wrong for us to partake of that Thanksgiving dinner. It would make us Part of The World. It would mean we were celebrating Thanksgiving. I asked if we couldn't just eat some of it and think of it as food and not a holiday, and she reminded me that Jehovah was watching, and I should stand up for what I believe and be an example to my cousins. We stopped at McDonald's for dinner on the way there, which really upset my aunt when she found out. Walking into that house full of food and aromas and every kind of Thanksgiving dish I'd always wanted to try was difficult, but I stayed loyal to Jehovah and did not even have a taste.

Now, I celebrate every holiday with great joy (and no guilt) with my own children. We have a turkey roasting in the oven, and as the smell fills my house along with the laughter of my sons and daughter I know I am very blessed. I am thankful that I had the strength and integrity to walk away from a religion that I felt was hurtful to me, that I did not want to see my children raised in the same way. I am thankful I had the fortitude to step outside the box I was raised in and make a decision about my future FOR MYSELF at the tender age of 17. I am thankful I am inside in a warm home instead of out in the cold knocking on doors of strangers with my kids right now. I am thankful for my life, my weight loss, my body, my blog, and all of you.

Something Very Cool Happened Today

Today was a better day for me. In the midst of it, something very cool happened.

Today, I went to my doctor to talk to him about my knee issues and get a referral for a new physical therapist. Part of my feeling so hopeless has been because I KNOW I need to exercise... I *want* to do more, walk further, bike, and skate... but I keep hurting myself. I have a lot of knee pain when I exercise, but almost none when I don't. I am not a fan of pain, but with a torn meniscus, severe degenerative arthritis, and bone spurring, pain is a part of life. It has been about 7 months since I've been to the doctor about ANYTHING. I figured I'd ask him what to do about the knee problem.

Well, it was 7 degrees outside, the car wouldn't start and was covered in snow, my son and I had to scrape snow and ice off TWO cars to get one near the other to jump start it. We got that done and then I had to run errands. When I got to the doctor, that is where something very cool happened that I was not even expecting.

"Step on the scale," she said. I stepped on. I do not dread the scale anymore, at all. I feel "normal" about scales, even in public like that. Well here's the special part: when she slid the block weight thing over, she STOPPED AT 150! She did NOT push it to 200, and then end up sliding it back lower. This is the FIRST TIME in, what, 15 years or something, that I have gotten on a doctor's scale and they did not just start out at the 200 mark (or the 250 mark) and go up from there. She KNEW by looking at me I was under 200 pounds! I couldn't believe it! I mean, *I* know I am under 200 pounds, but I still feel like *other* people don't know that by looking at me. And the way I have been eating this week, I felt exceptionally big, so when she didn't slide that thing all the way to 200, I was like, WOW! Really??? I don't look 200+ pounds? It felt amazing. (And for the record, the weight she got with shoes on and food in my stomach was still 100 pounds less than the highest weight I've seen on a doctor's scale. But yeah, I am up a few pounds).

The doctor was great, he checked my knees and felt the horrible "crunching" noise they make even when I was sitting and he gently raised them to straighten. We talked, he told me I am doing the one most important, effective thing to help my knees and that is losing weight and trying to be active. We talked about possible meniscus repair. And he gave me a referral to a new physical therapist that he thinks will be able to help me with exercises to strengthen the muscles around my knees, and give me a better idea of my limits and the possibilities. I am soooo excited. I feel like there's new hope now and maybe, just maybe I am not "stuck" in this broken body with icky knees forever. Maybe it *can* get better, at least better enough for me to hike and bike and walk farther without hurting myself.

Shopped for Thanksgiving, did great, bought only what is on my plan. And I also bought some firewood for a nice roaring fire in the fireplace this evening. I think that will lift my spirits. And speaking of lifted spirits, I have begun taking my supplements again AND last night I set my Sunrise clock and had a very pleasant awakening this morning that felt just like a spring sunrise. I think I am going to like this! I also have my light box sitting next to me and am about to turn it on for 20 minutes. I tried earlier today but I had a migraine, and migraine + light box = PAIN!!! The headache is gone now, so I will turn it on shortly.

Thank you SO MUCH for all the helpful comments, compassion, and friendship. I wish we were all neighbors... because I'd invite you all over for turkey and mashed cauliflower tomorrow :)

Have a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving!

Is This Depression?

I have to wonder what is going on here. I have had Seasonal Affective Disorder before. I have felt tired, sluggish, and had cravings. But I swear I am feeling worse by the day. I am starting to wonder if I am depressed. I don't *think* I am, but not sure I'd know.

When I asked my doctor (granted, not this year) if what I was experiencing was depression, he said he didn't think so and sent me to a counselor. After a couple months of that, the counselor told me, "You are not clinically depressed. You have situational depression, which is not the same thing. You have an appropriate level of sadness because of your circumstances. They are things they would make anyone sad. And the way out of this is NOT medication, and not even therapy. The way out of this is to change your circumstances and thus your outlook." I took his advice, starting *doing* things differently and cutting out the stuff that was upsetting me. I changed my circumstances, started concentrating on the positive, and the "depression" was gone.

So I have assumed that's what's going on once again: a combination of S.A.D. and circumstances that would make anyone feel sad. If you have a critically sick child you WILL feel sad about that, right? It's normal. But the last few days it is getting harder and harder *just to function.* I do it... I take care of the kids, I try to be perky and positive and interactive. But it is *so much effort* to get off the couch and put in a load of laundry. I kid you not, it is so hard. I think "I should do some laundry." I put down the laptop. And I sit here trying to gather the energy and motivation just to GET UP. I have never felt like this before, and I do not like it. AT ALL.

Granted, I slacked off my vitamin D3 and fish oil and stuff, and I have not been using my light box at all. Maybe that's all it would take? But it seems like this monumental effort to do anything. I force myself, but it's exhausting.

I started taking my supplements again the other day and I will break out the Light Box and my Sunrise Clock today, I promise, and I will use them tomorrow. If after a week of using them I still feel this bad, I will ask my doctor what he thinks.

Self Discipline Starts Here

So I've been thinking... (big surprise there huh??) I think part of my issue lately is that I have no real schedule for *anything.* I am so lax about doing stuff, and so hesitant to actually implement a system or a schedule in my life. I fight it mentally. When I think about setting times for exercise or housework or even "me time" I feel very stubborn. Makes no sense... why?

I used to be pretty regimented. When I was a teenager, my entire life was scheduled up. Got up early every morning, went to school at certain hours, then right afterwards went to work for 25 hours a week or so from the time I was 15 on. And when I was not working, I was preaching. I was an ordained minister at 15, and I took it very, very seriously. I spent a minimum of 5 hours per week in actual religious meetings (aka "church") and an additional 15 hours EVERY WEEK out trudging through rain and snow and summer heat, knocking on stranger's doors preaching The Truth or standing on a street corner selling religious magazines or teaching Bible Studies in people's homes. When I was 17, I upped it to 23+ hours a week of preaching, went away to another state for religious training, and when I got back I added a new dog to the mix. I was very busy, and very scheduled. I didn't mind it.

When I was married with small kids in my early 20's, I absolutely HAD to be on a schedule. There were schedules for breastfeeding, for diaper changes, for meals and snacks and naps for a bunch of little kids (4 kids ages 5 and under). I had an actual cleaning schedule, too: I always knew exactly what days I would map, vacuum, do laundry, dust, wash sheets, etc. I had it on a chart on the fridge so I always had a nice, clean, organized house. And in between I spent time quilting by hand, working in our acre garden, making my own baby food, and canning produce.

After the divorce, when my youngest was not even 2 yet, it got crazy. I still had all those kids but no one to help me with them. No family and their father moved across the country, I once again scheduling saved me. I worked full time, took kids to daycare, had all their sports and events on the calendar... but the cleaning schedule fell apart and it started to get chaotic. This is also when I gained a ton of weight, about 80 pounds in less than a year.

And then I went back to school, which is even MORE regimented... school, work, juggling the kids' schedules. I remember how on Saturdays after the various soccer or baseball games I would take off my watch with a sigh of relief. I didn't have to BE anywhere for half a day and I loved it. And putting that watch back on the next day to go teach Sunday School felt like putting chains on my arm. This is when I started hating the schedule.

Now I am blessed to have much more flexibility in my life. My kids are older and rarely need me to "be" somewhere for them except at home; I really enjoy my outings with my youngest to her dance classes and I love working in her Kindergarten one day a week. But I have NOT re-implemented any kind of schedule. I just sort of randomly do stuff when I feel like it. Oh gee, the floor looks like it could stand to be mopped, I better get to that soon. Or I notice I am out of pants to wear, guess I better do the laundry. That kind of thing. When we are out of milk I go grocery shopping. Whatever. And I refuse, absolutely REFUSE to wear a watch. EVER.

The result of this IS that I am much more relaxed and feel almost pampered that I can do things when *I* want to. I know it won't last forever; I will have to go back to work eventually, after my daughter is in school full time. So I am sort of treating my life like a vacation right now. After all, I deserve it after all those years of struggle. BUT....

... the problem here is the lack of self discipline. And my house gets to a state of chaos a lot easier because I don't have a schedule for dealing with things. I also am not in a mindset to push myself to do ANYTHING. That's not working out so well for me in the exercise department. And really I am not doing myself any favors by letting myself do everything willy nilly when I feel like it. There is still a LOT of work to be done as a mother of five, and the way I do it randomly takes up a lot more time than if I just did things on a schedule like I used to. I think I'd have more actual "free" time rather than always worrying about "ugh, there is so much I need to do, what should I do?" And this attitude seems to roll over into the eating department. "Oh I feel like having a cookie now, guess I will do that." Not enough discipline.

I am sort of snowed in today so I have two goals here: 1) play with my daughter, do some fun stuff with her; and 2) make a cleaning schedule. I am also toying with the exercise schedule idea but I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow regarding my knees, so I will wait and see what he has to say before I do that. Of course I am also aiming for an on-plan eating day.

I am hoping that scheduling a bit and tightening up my life will give me a better sense of direction and help pull me out of this sluggish mood I am in. Something has to give, here. Cross your fingers...

What's the Plan? Thanksgiving Success

Only 3 days left til Thanksgiving here in the USA... what's your plan? Taking a day off? Trying to stay on plan?

For me, I am aiming to be on plan. I really can't afford anymore screw ups. I need this weight off my knees, and I really want to be done with the weight loss phase of my life so I can move forward with the rest of my "whole foods" based maintenance plan. So, with that in mind, here's my recipe for Thanksgiving success:

Recipes for Thanksgiving Success

I posted those recipes back in 2007, the year I started this blog. It's my traditional Thanksgiving feast, tweaked for better health. This year, since I am doing low carb, I have to make a few changes in the menu.

First and most difficult, I will not be making stuffing this year. Homemade stuffing is, hands down THE thing I love most about Thanksgiving dinner. The problem is that none of my kids like it, and I have a hard time stopping at one serving. I will eat more and more for days afterwards if it's here. Since I am the only person in the house who likes stuffing, and I am eating low carb, it makes the best sense to just not make it this year. I will rethink it next year... maybe make it and give half to a friend and freeze portions or something. But not this year.

Second, and next most difficult, I will not be making candied yams this year. Again, my kids don't like them. Yams are healthy and really, the way I make them there is not a whole lot of the syrup going into my mouth anyway, but yams are not on plan for me right now. Too high carb. So sadly, I will not be making yams at all this year.

Third, I *will* be making green bean casserole. This is my third most favorite food on Thanksgiving, and while my recipe is not exactly low carb, I am going to try and mess with it to make it a little healthier this year. However I will make a HALF batch and *that* will be my "indulgence" for the holidays.

As for the rest of it, I will roast a SMALL free range turkey and use the bones for soup later. I will eat turkey breast on Thanksgiving. I will be making low fat mashed potatoes for the kids, and a big pot of mashed cauliflower for myself to have for several days. I *adore* homemade turkey gravy. I will have a small amount of it on my mashed cauliflower. I always make my gravy low fat as per the recipe link above. I will also make the Snicker salad because my kids look forward to it all year, but I am making a half batch this year and not having any myself. If I can find cranberry sugar free jello, I will have some of that. And instead of making homemade pies (too tempting for me), I reluctantly bought some frozen pumpkin pies. My kids will like them just fine, but they will be easy for me to avoid. I usually make fresh white rolls for Thanksgiving dinner but this year I will put out whole wheat bread slices for the kids. I also let my kids make fresh butter (shake heavy cream and a bit of salt in a glass jar FOREVER until you get a lump of butter... then mash out the liquid and chill). They will have sparkling cider as usual; I will see if there is any sugar free drink that looks good and if not I'll drink water.

So that's my plan. How about you? Share your Thanksgiving menu and healthy tips in the comments!

Food Fight

Yesterday I was really battling with food a lot. I worked hard to get through the day eating healthy foods, but it seemed every decision was a battle. By dinnertime I was exhausted mentally from constantly trying to make right choices while battling a sugar withdrawal migraine in my head.

I made some good choices, some okay choices, and some bad ones. I made really great choices for the first 3 meals/snacks of the day: perfectly on-plan. When I took one of my sons to work, I had to wait for an hour and a half for him. Usually I go shopping or something but I had a migraine. We went and sat in a nearby cafe (bad idea). My intention was to get a cup of soup (would have been a good idea) and let my daughter have a pancake or something while we waited. However when we got in there and the smells of the food hit me I was suddenly famished. It took everything in me not to order onion rings, seriously. But I had a plain roast beef sandwich, no mayo, no cheese, and a side of a small cup of soup. Not disastrous, but a sandwich roll is definitely not on plan. I drank water.

On the way home I bought a Starbucks low fat mocha, "because I had a headache" and the caffeine/sugar combo makes the headache go away. It did, but when I got home I came to my senses and dumped the remaining half of the mocha down the drain.

In the evening I made tacos for the kids (made with grass fed lean local beef), and I made myself a big salad of Romaine and spinach, with light Salsa Ranch dressing and a small amount of the beef (maybe 2 oz).

All was well until evening. I started getting "the urge" so I raced around throwing everything tempting in the trash (a couple of candy bars that my kids had laying around from Halloween, some crackers, gave some nuts and trail mix to my teens to have for later). By 10pm I was actually hungry and made myself a piece of whole wheat bread with cheese melted on it, and a bowl of Ramen.

Well, I've made some new decisions here. I generally don't buy junk and have it in the house, BUT I have always kept a *few* things like Ramen in the house for my teens. Guess what, they don't need Ramen either and I have had it with this crap food. For the first time in my entire life I am not going to buy Ramen anymore. Not even having it in the house. Might sound silly to you, but I have always had it as a staple for when my kids wanted a quick easy lunch. So it is going to be a big change and I need to find a substitute "easy" lunch. Some of them like tuna so I keep that on hand but I need to have some other easy things they will eat, that I won't go nuts over.

The less exposure I have to off plan foods, the less likely I will actually go off plan.

Now, for the physical part. I want to thank Eva who sent me a very uplifting and helpful email full of information this morning. When I read it, a light bulb went on. Yes, I have a major knee and joint problem (as I wrote about yesterday) that is quite limiting to my activity. BUT, after reading Eva's story, I am thinking I need another doctor consult on the condition of my knees, AND a new physical therapist. My old PT was no help at all. Maybe if I get a good one, and now with 100 pounds gone, they might be able to actually help me with my mobility issues. It's worth a try. I got on the phone this morning and made a call, and I have a doctor's appointment in a couple of days to talk about this issue. Thank you Eva! I feel new hope.

That's all for now... I am off to enjoy a bowl of cabbage soup.

The Emotional Connection of "My Foods"

Like I said earlier in case you missed it, I am struggling and this week will be filled with introspection and thinking out loud, including tearing apart any thoughts that crop up when I feel like eating off plan. If you really detest that kind of blog post, you may want to come back in a week.

And also, this post is going to have a lot of specific foods mentioned, so if that's going to trigger you, be forewarned. You can read all the way down to the row of asterisks, and after that, a lot of food will be mentioned.

It seems whenever I am majorly stressed and/or upset about things, I turn to the same particular foods. They're not especially tasty foods, or great foods. They're common things, and, in fact, tonight I realized that I do not even really like the flavor of some of these foods I turn to for comfort. How crazy is that? I sit and eat something I am not especially fond of. In fact I may even seek it out, go to the store on a special run for those foods. Why? What is going on with me? I sat with this thought for awhile and here is what I have come up with.

I have a set of foods that are "My Foods." When I say "mine" I mean they seem to somehow be a part of me. A part of who I am... my heritage, my past, my emotions. I remember in grade school we were given a project to write about our favorite food. It was easy. I will mention it below, but we had to make a poster about that food. I drew it and wrote a poem about it with ease. It was a part of me and has been ever since. It's almost like certain foods have been part of my life and my early childhood memories for *so long* that they are part of my psyche. I dunno, it seems crazy. But it is true.

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My foods are all, ALL connected back to my childhood.

When I was a very small child, about 2 years old, my mother used to sometimes feed me chocolate ice cream for breakfast. One of my very early memories is of seeing someone eat chocolate ice cream on Sesame Street on TV, and wanting it SO BAD I could hardly stand it. I have extremely (maybe unnaturally) vivid memories of the chocolate ice cream she used to give me. It was not this fluffy, soft, airy, barely-chocolate stuff. It was that thick rich chocolate ice cream that was so dark brown it seemed endless, and it didn't have any fluffy air holes in it. It was almost hard when you scooped it, and when I'd eat a bite on my spoon it was so thick and rich and hard that I had to chew it, almost like frozen fudge. I dream about this ice cream. I have only ever found ONE brand of ice cream now that is like it, and when I eat it I actually have flashbacks of being 3 or 4 and eating it and watching Sesame Street.

Now why would a grown woman have that kind of intense reaction to an ice cream? Why was that ice cream so important to me as a child that I remember every detail of eating it and feel *connected* to that particular type of ice cream, but no other type?

I think it is because I got the ice cream when my mom didn't want to bother with me.

She used to go out drinking a lot, and leave me home as a toddler with my grandpa. Oh how I loved my grandpa! I remember HIM as vividly as the ice cream: he always held me on his lap, read stories to me, sang me songs about little teapots, and played with me. He showed me how to work a top.. the kind that you used to push down on a rod in the center to make it spin. He loved me more than anything in the world. When my mom was out drinking I'd be home with him, and my dad would come home from work and have to go out to all the bars looking for my mother half the night. I had Grandpa, but he got sick a lot. When he wasn't around I got ice cream instead. He died when I was 4. I didn't understand.

Isn't it strange I have such vivid memories of my Grandpa, my father, and my ice cream, but almost no memory whatsoever of my mother during those years? Memory #1: my mom rocking me in my bedroom, after she pulled down the blinds. I was wearing red, footed pajamas. Memory #2: Going with my dad to visit my mom in the mental hospital. I was so excited/upset that I vomited on the porch.

Food #2:
When I wrote that poem and made that poster about my favorite food, it was bagels and cream cheese. I grew up back east, where the bagels are GOOD. And we always used Philadelphia cream cheese. When I was a kid I'd eat a bagel with cream cheese almost every day. We never toasted them; just split them and layered that cream cheese on extra-thick. It was one of my father's favorite foods, too. He ate them often, but he always had little green olives with the red pimento centers all sliced up and placed on top of his bagel halves. I thought that was so disgusting. I sometimes liked to sprinkle bacon bits on my bagel with cream cheese.

Now, do you know what I like to eat as soon as I start going off plan? Yes, bagels and cream cheese. I am always annoyed that the bagels aren't as good as they were back east, but I eat them anyway, slathered with lots of Philly cream cheese. And sliced green olives. Yes, I do, I slice those olives over my bagel and seeing the little green circles with red centers makes me feel like ME. And connected with my dad. Which brings me to a side point that when I was a child, my father drank martinis, and he always gave me the olive from his drink. So is it any wonder that I cannot keep a jar of olives in the house? I will eat the ENTIRE JAR. They are incredibly salty and I lose the enjoyment after just 3 or 4, but I swear something takes over and I find myself eating 50 olives in one sitting. Insane. But it is not the olives I am after. It is my father, long gone from a heart attack 21 years ago. I even dated a man who I *knew* wasn't right for me, mainly because he drank martinis and smoked and smelled just like my father. I cannot tolerate smoke, it hurts my eyes and makes me feel sick, but I dated him anyway. That was years ago, but I still will sit and eat a bowl of olives and a hunk of Philly cream cheese from a bowl if I am out of bagels.

Food#3:
Before I was born, my father lived in Japan for over a decade. He spoke fluent Japanese and was a really great cook as well. If I had access to tempura, I am sure it would be a problem for me. But I don't cook it myself, nor do I own a deep fryer so tempura has faded into the background for the most part. What has not, is soba. My dad used to fix me a bowl of soba noodles on the stove and serve it to me with chopsticks. From a very, very early age I ate these noodles, which are now commonly known as Ramen. I have vivid memories of sitting at the kitchen table slurping my soba, or winding thick layers of noodles around my chopsticks and eating them like a chicken drumstick. I ate Ramen ALL THE TIME. Guess what I eat when I go off plan? Ramen! That horribly salty, greasy, unappetizing bowl of cheap psuedo-food seems somehow like it is part of me, like it belongs in my life. When I eat it I *always* think, "eww, this is not very good" but I manage to eat the whole bowl, awakening recollections of my childhood and eating soba my dad made for me.

Oh, there are a lot of other foods. My mom didn't know how to cook, so a lot of the time my lunch was "cheese in the oven," a slice of bread topped with cheese and broiled, buttered, and salted. Whenever we went out to a diner my father would get a Reuben sandwich, which I thought was the most revolting smelling sandwich ever. When I came home after school I'd eat Lays chips, drink Coke, and eat Port Wine cheese. And yeah, my mom made hot dogs, too.

Some of those foods don't even appeal to me anymore but I find myself mindlessly eating them anyway. I guess on some level I still feel like an orphan. Sometimes I have dreams of being abandoned, and I wake up with the most vivid sense of being a little child whose parents have disappeared. It aches in the deepest part of my gut. I hate it. Of course after I wake up and go about my day I am fine. I rarely really think about my parents and miss them... they've been gone for so long. But obviously part of me is trying to bring them back. Trying to bring back that screwed-up childhood for a do-over.

Well, now that I am aware, I can plan something different. Something I have never done is stop myself before indulging in these foods and let myself "go there" with the sense of loss and disconnect. I think I am going to have to do this. The chocolate ice cream is not going to give me the loving mother I always wanted, and the jar of olives does nothing to bring my father back to life. I think it's time to dissect these foods from my sense of *self* and let them rest in my past while I move on to the future.

What I Want

There is a disconnect between the things I truly want for myself and the reality of what IS, or what is even possible. I've struggled for the past few days and I am probably going to be doing more introspective writing *instead* of turning to food, in order to turn things around this week. Some of what I write might not make a lot of sense to some people, I understand that. But I am really having a hard time right now, so this week is going to be more writing what *I* need to write without a whole lot of consideration for what might or might not make sense to others. I'm sure most of you get that. But for those who get annoyed when I "overthink" or "dwell on the past," you may want to take a break from my blog this week. Just saying.

What I want:
I want to NOT want junky food. I want to have a desire for healthy, whole foods and a revulsion for overly processed, "nasty" greasy crap foods like potato chips, candy bars, Little Debbie cakes, and fast food. I mean really. In my MIND I think "yuck" because I know what's in them and how bad they are for me. I know they are cheap crap and a real peach or some homemade soup *should* taste far better. I want to turn up my nose at those junky foods. I want to say my taste buds have changed so much that Dominoes pizza tastes nasty to me.
What Is:
Sometimes, in fact most of the time, I do not crave old junk. Most of the time it doesn't appeal to me. Usually I do want freshly cooked healthy stuff instead. But sometimes, maybe 1/4 of the time, I still WANT junk and actually, if junk food had the same nutritional value as whole foods I think I would choose junk about half the time. Little Debbie cakes still taste good to me. Potato chips are yummy to me, even though they are greasy and salty. I still WANT hot dogs and fried chicken even though the thought of it sort of grosses me out. I still want to eat candy and cookies and cakes.

What I want:
I want to feel full after a reasonable amount of food. I want to stop when I am full and eat when I am hungry and not obsess about food. I want to be ABLE to have one cookie if I feel like it and not go insane.
What Is:
Most of the time... 80% of the time... I DO stop when I am beginning to get full. Most of the time I don't obsess anymore. There has been a LOT of progress. But, yes, sometimes, rarely, I WANT to eat until I feel almost sick. Sometimes I want to eat, then eat again, and again, and again. Sometimes, I can have one piece of chocolate or one cookie or one taste of something off plan and be fine with that. But every once in awhile, that one bite or one cookie throws me into some kind of chaotic state. I feel like I am flung into a frenzy of eating where I CANNOT stop thinking about food and I CANNOT stop eating more and more and more. And it is very, very hard to break out of that. And it is very difficult for me to say "never" to anything. "Never" is a very long time, and if I say I will "never" eat cheesecake again, it just makes me want cheesecake more than anything in the world, and I am, in fact, likely to bake and eat an entire cheesecake because, after all, I will "never" have it again, so I better enjoy it one last time. I can't do "nevers."

What I want:
I want to be able to run or jog or do aerobics classes. I want to do squats and lunges. I want to do a lot more exercise and feel great about my body.
What Is:
I am physically INCAPABLE of doing these things. And it makes me really upset when people keep telling me to "take up running" or "do an hour a day of aerobics" because hello, I *want* to but I cannot! How would you feel if you had two broken arms and people kept telling you that you needed to do 30 pull ups every day? Seriously, it is so frustrating. You can bet that if I could run or do aerobics for an hour a day I would do it. Part of what hinders me is frustration with my ability to *do* the amount and types of exercise I want to do. My knees are shredded. Seriously. My orthopedic surgeon says the ONLY reason I have not needed surgery YET is the weight loss, and that I will still need total knee replacements in the future at a pretty young age. I have almost no cartilage in my knees. I have severe degenerative arthritis, a torn meniscus, and bone spurs. I used to be in pain every single day just from walking around the house, but with weight loss I am now able to walk up to 2 miles a day. However, my doctor, future surgeon, and the physical therapist say:
NO running or jogging, ever
NO weight bearing exercise such as an "aerobics" class or step class where I am actively working and on my feet for long periods
NO elliptical
NO regular biking... recumbent only
NO walking on a treadmill (something about the surface and the angle and unnatural pacing being damaging to my knees)
NO squats, lunges, seated knee-bending or -straightening exercises

The only things I am allowed to do right now are riding my recumbent exercise bike (indoors, since I don't have an outdoor recumbent), swimming, or walking. Also weight training my upper body and any lower body exercises that do not involve the knee joint (such as straight leg lifts).

I have tried swim aerobics twice and had severe pain afterwards. I can do swimming without pain only if I do not involve my legs much. I can walk up to 2 miles outside but am somewhat restricted when it gets frigid out unless someone is available to watch my daughter.

I have also been roller skating once or twice a month *against* the advice of my doctor. It is something I want so badly that life without it seems just unbearable (I know that sounds dramatic, but I want to skate SO BAD). So I carefully skate for an hour at a time, slowly, hoping against all hope that I can build up to real skating someday. I know full well that if I fall I am in deep trouble, but I have no pain after an hour of skating so I am willing to risk it.

So reality is what I am ABLE to do in addition to what I am already doing, is bike. I have struggled A LOT with adding this back in. If you've been around long you may recall how I have ended up with severe foot pain when I go beyond 30 minutes on the bike. You may remember my trying various shoe types and inserts and pedaling different ways, but when I'd injure a foot I could not bike for WEEKS until it healed. Very discouraging. And I have never (yet) been able to bike for more than 35-40 minutes without having knee pain that prevents me from biking again for several days. So it sucks, and it is not as simple as some people might think it is. And if you think I am making excuses then I hope you never have to live with this kind of physical issue, because it truly does suck to WANT to exercise and be physically unable.

So yes, I am sort of depressed about the whole exercise thing. Yes I could start biking again. I am just hesitant because in my mental state if I end up with an injury I think it will be a really bad thing to throw on top of the struggle I am having. And yes I could start lifting weights (upper body), I have everything set up to do so but honestly I just am so discouraged because of what I CANNOT do and feel like doing a bunch of biceps curls is not going to make a difference. I am wrong about that... I know in my HEAD it would help but my emotions are saying "screw it" right now.

What I want:
To not be fat anymore.
What is:
I lost over 100 pounds and I am still fat. I was in the tub last night and while my upper body looks great and even "average sized," the amount of fat on my belly and thighs is, frankly, disturbing. I am not talking vanity here. I am talking large handfuls of fat. My lower body is in horrendous condition and if I posted a picture of it you would not believe I am not obese anymore. It looks well over 200 pounds. Well over. And that is messing with my head. However it is within my power and control to lose more weight, so I guess what I should do is DO that instead of moping about my body.

That's all for now.

Checking Out

Okay, I am really struggling. I know it's emotional, but it is bleeding over into my behaviors and my eating.

Stuff happens, and we have to cope. I have gotten pretty good at coping without food, or so I thought. But I feel like the last 3 days have been just one huge effort to stay "checked in" at all.

I feel disjointed, physically tired, frustrated, and upset. And the response I have had is to keep trying to check out. Repeatedly.

I zone out watching TV. I completely go into my own world by going online for hours. And I also still check out using food. I hate that I do it. I am working very, very hard on changing this behavior. I went for so long without a big issue but apparently old habits do die hard.

I just do not want to deal with the things I need to deal with and am being forced to face. And I find myself using the TV, Internet, and food to escape. I feel like every single moment I am not checked out is an effort to stay present. It does not feel good at all. It's like I don't want to be here, in this situation, in this moment of life. I want to be in the TV, in the computer, in the food. Anyplace but here.

Every morning I get up and stare at my Medifast food. I decide to have it instead of a stack of pancakes and sausage. Later I stare at the raw broccoli and chicken in the fridge I have planned for dinner and I just cannot bring myself to eat it. I order pizza instead.

It sucks. My choices have become difficult because I *allowed* them to be choices. It is so much easier when you just decide ahead of time what you will and will not eat or do, and stick to that without thinking of other options because in your mind there ARE no other options. Now, because I gave myself options, I am screwing up.

I think about how I would have been married for 21 years this month had I not gotten divorced. And although I believe divorce was the right option, it still crops up in my head every year. I think about how my father died right after Christmas so long ago and how much I miss him. I think about my parents' anniversary in a few weeks and how I wish they were around to celebrate with. This is always a hard time of year for me. I am not even sure how many/which of my children will be here with me for Christmas this year... could be 5, could be 1, or any number in between. And it is really dragging me down. Add to that a son with some serious medical and life issues going on right now, and you get this. This, whatever it is...

I am more aware than ever that something is *wrong* right now. I used to slip into this type of state (which my doctor says is not clinical depression) and barely notice it until a blur of 3 months and 40 pounds gained I'd wake up with the spring and say "what the heck just happened?" At least I am noticing. I can fight it.

I know something is wrong because first, I started wanting to stay up very late (1am) and sleep late in the morning (which I cannot do. I have to be up by 7-7:30 because of the kids). Then I stopped taking my supplements (glucosamine, D3, fish oil, etc), started eating *just a little* more food (this bit of extra chicken won't hurt. This extra salad dressing will be fine) and then eating *just a little* off plan food (a bit of cheese, some olives, maybe some bacon or sausage) and then it blew up into full blow off plan "half days." Every day I do Medifast until after lunch and then I feel so overwhelmed by *life* that I need to "check out" and I end up eating so much crap that I cannot sleep comfortably. I knew I was at MY PERSONAL rock bottom (not the lowest I have EVER been, but the lowest I am WILLING to go at this point) when I forgot to drink water, had a Coke and 3 donuts and potato chips yesterday, ate a pint of ice cream last night at 10pm, and found myself in a fast food drive thru today for the first time in over a year, eating a lame Jack in the Box breakfast in the car in the parking lot, thinking, "Oh my god, this is it. This it the point where I either get fat again or don't."

So here I am, probably several pounds heavier but I am going to reverse course now even though I don't *feel* like it. I am very very inclined to check out. It is almost like a gambling addiction (I have not experienced that but I have seen it) where a person is glued to a slot machine for hours, has no idea how much time passed and forgets everything in their life while they are completely sucked into the gambling. I am just not going to allow myself to do this anymore. In fact, I will let myself do a healthy, relaxing kind of checking out, like maybe reading a book or being online for an hour or taking a long hot bath. Those are healthy behaviors. Using TV and computers for 5 hours at a stretch or eating myself into oblivion are NOT.

It is honestly going to take every ounce of focus and effort for me to pull it together, but that is my goal for the week. Prayers and good thoughts are welcome.

A Comfortable Pattern of Eating

Whenever I am eating "on plan," whatever that weight loss/healthy eating plan may be, I feel more content. There is a comfort in the soothing rhythm of knowing WHEN to eat, WHAT to eat, HOW MUCH to eat instead of trying to wing it all day long and eating based on a whim. I like the predictable, nearly thoughtless pattern of my eating these days: 8am, 10am, 12:30pm, 3pm, 6pm, 8:30pm. No major thought, limited choices, just living in between the eating rather than obsessing every moment about what to eat next.

It's no wonder that when I eat off plan and do the old 'grazing' thing where I let my mind and appetites lead my food choices, I end up with heart palpitations. Maybe it's because I overstuff my stomach, or because sugar has a bad effect on me. I feel ill when I do that. A typical off plan day used to be:

7am: coffee, sugar, creamer... maybe 2 cups
8am: a couple slices of leftover pizza. I eat, I am full, but all I can think about is "what's next?"
9am: donuts (I always used to alternate sweet and savory, over and over, so I didn't get 'sick' of the food)
10am: chips, a couple hot dogs, Coke
noon: pizza, Coke, chips, cheese, pickles, cookies
At this point I would be just sick from overstuffing myself. Misery. Let the food digest awhile.
3pm: Big Mac meal
4pm: come home and bake brownies and eat several. Obsess because I saw a Doritos ad and all I can think about is Doritos. Make a store run for Doritos, and eat them dipped in sour cream.
6pm: fettuccine Alfredo and garlic bread for dinner. Afterwards, HAVE TO HAVE something sweet. Couple of brownies.
8pm: kids in bed! Now I can eat! grilled peanut butter/banana/bacon sandwich
10pm: pint of Ben & Jerry's

Now, I am not kidding here, my WHOLE DAY would be about food on a day like that. I cannot believe how much my stomach used to hold. I would obsess about the "next thing" all day long, never really being satisfied with what was in front of me. I was looking for something I could not get from food, but I didn't realize that.

The eating pattern was LIKE having heart palpitations. No predictable rhythm, alarming discomfort, scattered times and amounts and kinds of foods. Very disjointed and it interfered with my life. I could not relax and let it go.

Now, it is simple. Like the calm, predictable pattern of a normal heartbeat, my eating happens without must thought. It's automated and healthy and simple. It allows me to live my life without food obsession. It is a very comfortable way to be.

Look at the patterns of food and eating in your life. Maybe, if your eating is interfering with your *life* or your thoughts or your ability to relax, it might be helpful to set up a predictable, simple schedule and pattern for your eating. Set times, set amounts, set *things* that you eat. It takes some of the work out of weight loss when you have this all figured out and don't have to re-figure it every single day... or every single meal. You can free up your time and mental energy for other things if you don't have to think, worry, and obsess about your food.

I feel like I am relaxing in a boat floating down the river these days, rather than frantically hanging on as I navigate the rapids, always worried the boat will tip and forever trying to keep my balance while wiping the spray out of my eyes. Even on the hard days, the stressful days, when I follow my regular eating patterns, the waters are calmer.

I wish that for you, as well.

Confidence, or the End of a Crushed Spirit

I often feel incompetent even when I know I am not. It's something that's haunted me since I was a young child, perhaps because I did not get a whole lot of confidence boosting from my mother when I was little. I was shy... painfully shy... to the point that on the first day of Kindergarten I crawled in a bookshelf, curled in a ball and wouldn't come out, crying until my mother came to get me. My mother was troubled, and I don't remember a whole lot about how she raised me when I was small. I know she loved me but I think she was so submerged in her own issues of alcoholism, past abuse, suicide attempts, and depression that perhaps I fell by the wayside at times. I don't really know.

By the time I was 7 or 8 I knew my father was the stable one in the household. I was an only child, and he doted on me. When my mother was having a bad day, withdrawing or being hostile, I could go to my father for comfort or a game of Scrabble. He tried to build me up, always telling me how smart I was and how good I was at things. And I believed him, but I still lacked confidence. My whole self image and sense of worth revolved around being "good." And my mother made it very clear to me that I was never going to be good enough for Jehovah God. He was always watching... not just my actions, but my thoughts, and he KNEW what a "bad girl" I was inside. I tried so hard to please Him. I would lie in bed at night and plead to Jehovah to forgive me for whatever horrible things I'd done that day, even if I didn't have any idea what they were. I knew I was inadequate, and I was terrified that He knew it and would destroy me for it. My mother reinforced this fear, showing me pictures from Dante's Inferno. The birds would peck my eyes out and rip apart my flesh if I was sinning when Armageddon happened. She would have a party with her friends next to my openly disfigured corpse, and feel no sadness for my loss because Jehovah is righteous. So I better be good. Be perfect. Hard things for a child of 6.

I admit it. I was scared a lot as a child. Not scared of being hit, because she stopped that when I was about nine years old and she was chasing me to hit me with a wooden spoon and I turned and grabbed it from her. I was scared of the Hidden Badness inside me that she always said was there. The badness Jehovah, and my mother, knew about. I could pretend to be good. I could try. But they knew how inadequate I really was.

We moved to a new part of town when I was in third grade. I had to attend a new school. On my first day there, instead of making new friends I laid my head on my desk and cried through class. It was painfully difficult for me to be social or to feel like there was anything about me that other kids would like. I was different. I couldn't salute the flag or eat a birthday cupcake or attend a class Christmas party because of my religion. "Mommy," I cried in first grade, after having been sent to the office for refusing the say the pledge of allegiance, "the teacher needs to talk to you. PLEASE come to school with me today!" But she pushed a Bible into my hands and sent me to school, saying, "you know what's right. YOU explain your beliefs to her. YOU stand up for what's right. Or don't, just be like the World and worship Satan and that flag and disappoint Jehovah. YOU decide." And so I did. I fumbled through the explanation to my teachers alone, with my Bible, year after year, sometimes even getting "paddled" with a board for not saying the Pledge. Year after year I sat in the hallway on a chair during every Christmas, Valentines Day, and Easter party at school, alone, like the "bad kids" who sat out there for time outs. "Please, Mom, can't you just come and pick me up when they have the party? My teacher said it's okay." "No! You need to stay and do the right thing! Be an example to those kids." My mother's attempts to make me "confident" had, in fact, the opposite effect. I always felt singled out, weird, different. And bad... because Jehovah knew that for a split second, I thought those Christmas cookies looked good and I wished I could taste just one.

Even as an adult, I tend naturally to believe I am doing things "wrong." I am not a "good enough" mom, housekeeper, worker, student, friend, blogger, person. I thought I was a bad wife when I was married to my first husband. He reinforced that idea. I thought I couldn't do the things I wanted to do. When I was divorced, I was terrified of getting a job and going back to school. I just KNEW I couldn't do that. Especially not alone. And when I'd try to lose weight, I'd give up after a few tries because I felt so woefully inadequate to even take care of myself.

Finally, finally this is beginning to change. Those emotions still pop up, but reason takes over. I *did* do well at my job and at school. I did finish school and get my degree. I AM doing a good job at many things in my life, from mothering to weight loss. Not perfect, but no one is. The fear is gone, but I do have to pay attention to the echo of my mother in my head.

"You didn't do ALL the laundry yesterday!" Well, no. But I did five loads, and that is enough.
"You didn't mop the floors, either!" No, but I vacuumed, and I am satisfied with that.
"Your shelves are dusty!" Sure, but my kids got the love and attention they needed.
"You didn't even bike yesterday!" True, but I walked, and I will try again today.
"You are worthless!" No, actually, I am priceless.

I know my mother passed on what her mother gave to her. She was berated and beaten from a very young age, and I have to give her credit for doing a better job with me than her mother did with her. She did try. She did love me.

And I am doing a better job with MY kids, and maybe just as important, with myself. I have to parent myself in a loving way, giving guidance and encouragement like I do to my own children, without guilting or negativity.

Good job, self! You got a lot done yesterday! And today is going to be even better! I truly believe in you.

Working It Out

I had a rough time last night and woke up at 4AM after less than 4 hours of sleep. I couldn't get back to sleep but I stayed in bed until 5. Finally I got up and had some tea and took time to think about my plan for today. Summary:

How I feel right now: Like crap. Stomach icky, very tired, stressed and feeling generally 'down.' However I have the good habits and the wise thoughts percolating through and making me do what's best for me rather than sitting in a slump for days.

What I am going to do about it: Fake it til I make it. No, I do NOT feel like doing *anything.* My "feelings" tell me to mope, sit, eat, and ignore *doing* anything. My feelings say I am too tired, too sad, too stressed to *do* anything about it. This is the *old me* thinking. Fortunately, the new me is far stronger and is coming out and pushing me without my even trying to make it happen. That's a pretty good sign. However, I *do* have to make myself get up and do things. It's not easy. I have to force it. I don't like it. But I like who I am better when I do that than when I sit and mope.

I am just forcing myself to do things one step at a time. I know I could fall in that black hole of BLAH and WAH if I don't. So I am doing it.

Got up and took all my supplements (for arthritis, and vitamins and Biotin and all that stuff). Made green tea and drank it. Had my planned breakfast, lots of water, more tea. Discovered that although my daughter is better and not sick anymore, now I have a sick son who is staying home from school. Tended to that, pried myself off the couch and got dressed. Made myself do some basic housework and then sat down to blog.

I am just gonna do this all day. Fifteen minute increments, get up and do something. I don't want to, but doing what needs to be done over what you WANT to do builds character.

Since this really is somewhat of a tightrope walk, I am using my Facebook page to post updates today of what I am doing throughout the day. I know that sounds kinda boring but if you're interested in a look through my windows into my life (figuratively speaking) and a glimpse at "how to pull out of a terrible funk", you can friend me on Facebook. I appreciate all the cheering-on and kind words as well.

I am focusing on my goal reward too, and that is keeping me positive.

See ya on the other side.

Bad Night

It's late. I had a rough day. My sheets are washed but not on my bed yet. I do feel like I hit some kind of emotional wall today. The weather/cycle hormones/kid stress got to me and I baked cookies and ate myself sick. I am just absolutely ill. Thankfully (I guess), it only took 4 cookies to "eat myself sick." It's a far cry better than the two dozen or more I used to eat. But still. A symptom of the eating issues that still lurk, half dead but not quite.

I have zero desire for any more food, period. I actually had heart palpitations after I ate them. I used to have them ALL the time. I think it is a function of a) an overfull stomach and b) sugar. I stopped having palpitations when I started Medifast; I have no desire to "go there" again. I have had enough of the cardiologist and the ER.

I am going to make my bed, write a list of goals for tomorrow, and go to sleep. In fact, my big goal for tomorrow is to truly and actually clean up my exercise room for use, and get on the bike tomorrow, even if it is just for 15 minutes. I need to build back up to 30 or 40 minutes a day or I am going to drown in a pit of inactivity this winter. It's all set up but I have been piling boxes in there in front of the bike (and on its seat!) so that has to be taken care of. So come back and ask me tomorrow how that's going. I really feel like I am slipping into a bad place emotionally and need to DO something to put the brakes on.

Thank you so very much for all the kind words, comments, emails and support. It means a lot to me.

Crazy Thinking

Starting this weekend I have been struggling again emotionally because of stuff that is stressing me out, unrelated to food. Little stuff piles up... like my daughter being nauseous all day Saturday and hanging out by the toilet while she cries because she doesn't want to puke. Like my sheets needing to be washed and it keeps getting put on the back burner just like the other cleaning. I do the cursory basics, the dishes, the vacuuming, but the piles of paperwork build. The kitchen is not up to standard. The fridge needs to be washed out. And the yard needs attention. I do bits here and there and then get called away with some other emergency like a nearby mother who needs me to watch her child or a stray dog showing up on my doorstep. The bills sit unpaid until I get a shutoff notice, and the kids eat frozen burritos and turkey sandwiches because I can't gather myself enough to cook for them. My emails pile up unanswered and the To Do list gets longer and longer. I pull myself up and start tackling things, and then crisis hits.

Two things upset me terribly this weekend. One involves my oldest son, who is once again in a bad place, and the other involves a witchy person who has something of mine that is very dear to me (something that was my mother's) and is threatening to ruin it out of spite. Both of these events plus the big hormonal shift that comes mid-cycle for me were enough to throw me for a loop. I started crying at things I'd see on TV. I started moping around feeling like my whole life is a failure. From the crumbs on the table to the dust on the bookshelf, everything seem to point to me being an absolute failure as a person. Catastrophic thinking at its best.

It makes no sense, the thoughts and feelings I have sometimes. My son struggles, therefore I am a horrible mother. As I sit and eat my Medifast chili I think, "how stupid is it to worry about this diet and my weight when there are so many more important, upsetting, terrible things I should be wallowing in?" Well, I didn't think quite THAT. I thought "this is dumb, eating this Medifast food when my kid is suffering. I should go get a cheese steak and to hell with the diet."

Yeah, really sensible. But at least I recognise it and say "what the heck?"

What the heck indeed. How does going OFF plan and eating a cheese steak and probably some other crap too (because it would snowball) honor my child or make things better? I almost felt ASHAMED to be concerned about weight loss when there are other things that are so much more deserving of my attention.

It's crazy thinking. Reality is, whatever I eat or don't eat is not going to affect the outcome of what is upsetting me. It's just going to affect my weight and health. Maybe it's just the old voice kicking in trying to get me to comfort myself with food, I dunno. But the thoughts sure are coming from a different angle.

Well, I finished my chili and I didn't go get a cheese steak. It feels ridiculous to be considering spending an hour driving around to get a cheese steak when what I ought to be doing is washing the sheets and cleaning the kitchen. Food as avoidance, yet again. But it's still my choice.

I will control what I CAN control. I am still eating on plan, working in bits and pieces to get the housework up to standard, and getting tasks done that are important.

Medifast Meal Mug Review

This one's for those of you who are on Medifast! I will be putting up another post later as well, but wanted to get this out there since Medifast is releasing this new mug today.

Medifast sent me their new "Meal Mug" (for free) last week so I could get a chance to use it for review. It is advertised as follows: "this ingeniously designed mug-and-spoon set is perfect for Medifast meals, hot or cold, wherever you are. It's dishwasher and microwave safe, and features the Medifast or Take Shape for Life logo." Price is $7.95 and they are being sold on the Medifast site along with a couple of new Holiday items: Coffee House Gift Box and Season Spice Set.

Okay, so it comes in a box but does not have any directions, so I just used my common sense and used it to prep Medifast foods "as directed." First off, it is plastic. I wasn't sure if it would possibly be ceramic by the pictures. Here it is:

It's cute, and nice, and has a fitted gasket on the lid to keep it firmly in place. I really like the cute spoon that snaps in place on the lid and comes off to eat your soup or oatmeal. It's just under a Tablespoon in volume, too, which could come in handy for measuring in a pinch.

Here's a top view, which brings up something important. It is not *sealed* as in airtight or spill-proof. There is a space for sipping your Cocoa or what have you (which is nice!) and an additional small hole for venting (good idea) BUT do not think you will put your soup in here and take it to work and it won't spill if you stick it in a lunch bag. You'd have to stick some plastic wrap in there between the lid and mug to assure no spillage.

So I made my cocoa in it and that worked just fine. I used it in two ways: one, I put the Medifast food in and added boiling water to soups, cocoa, etc. Two, I put water in it and stuck it in the microwave. It IS microwave safe and the mug has enough room that my soup did not boil over (I do stop and stir occasionally though). I was not sure if the lid is microwavable or not, so I nuked things without the lid. The plastic did get a little warm, but not too hot to use. The spoon is fun to use and handy. I liked it.

What I didn't like:

When I made my chili in this mug, it left the infamous "red ring" inside, even after repeated washings:

You can kind of see the light ring inside the mug here.

Now let me state up front that I am not a fan of microwaving food in plastic. I do not have any Tupperware, Gladware, etc in my home. I have Pyrex glass containers in various sizes that I always use when I microwave food, and I have taught my children not to microwave their food in a plastic dish. I know that may sound extreme since the FDA tests plastic containers and determines just how much plastic "leeching" into our food is "safe," but I'd rather not risk it. So I use glass. But I do use plastic dishes for warm foods sometimes and I will use this mug occasionally for things like puddings and things I just add hot water to. I do wish the base was ceramic, though. Then it would be perfect!

Things to consider:

If you are not broadcasting your diet to everyone at work, be aware these is a large Medifast logo on this mug.

It is a nice size (holds about 14-15 ounces of fluid) but it will not fit in your cup holder in your vehicle.

Bottom line, I think this is a good item for people who are eating Medifast meals at work, as long as you don't mind nuking food in plastic. I think it is worth the $7.95 price tag.





175

At a park near my home, there is a playground task my daughter has always been afraid to do. It's a set of 6 or 7 long poles, hanging from chains about 2 feet apart, with round plate-sized plastic platforms attached near the bottoms for a child to step on. The idea is for them to start at one end, grab the pole and step onto the round platform, and then grab the next pole and step on that platform, going from one to the next until they get to the other end. The poles are suspended from a bar with chains and they are also attached to the ground with chains, but the chains are loose enough that the poles and platforms swing a bit when a child steps on them. So it seems a little unstable to a small child. My daughter would stand at one end and try to reach out and grab the first pole, tentatively put one foot on the platform and when it would move, pull her foot away. "Mommy!" she'd say, "hold the pole still for me!" And when she was smaller, I'd do that. I'd hold each pole as still as I could while she slowly stepped from one to the next. If it didn't swing and sway under her feet, she felt a little more confident to walk from one to the next. But if I didn't hold the poles, she would not even set foot on the first one. The lack of balance was disconcerting. Too scary.

She is five now, but has avoided the poles for so long that she doesn't even care to try. Last week, I encouraged her to be brave and give it a shot. I gently held the first one until she stepped on it. Then I let go and she hugged into that pole for dear life. I told her, "It's okay, it can only move a little bit. The chains will stop it from swinging a lot. Try to grab the next pole." She hugged onto her pole but reached one hand out to grab the next one. She put her little foot out. Everything was swaying: the pole she was hanging onto, and the pole she was trying to move to. But she did it. She stepped to the next platform, hugging the next pole tightly. I kept encouraging her, and eventually her worried face turned to a smile of confidence, and she made it to the end. "I did it!" she shouted. "Yay!" And then she did it again.

It seems to me that every ten pounds I lose is like another of those swaying poles for me to step to. I am not quite as confident as my girl is yet. It's partly a head game, I'm sure, with numbers playing with my mind. It's also a nervousness about each "new body" I get along the way, with all its unfamiliar changes and the need for new or different clothing. I feel a little unsure... unsteady. I cling to a pole tightly, afraid to let go. What if it swings? What if it sways? What if I lose my balance and fall off? But the tools I have gathered along the way, like short chains to the ground, steady the poles from moving too much. I reach one hand out, grab the next pole, put my foot out, but then pull it back. I hang onto my own pole for a few minutes to assure myself I am okay.

I am currently hanging onto the pole of 175 pounds. It is very comfortable for me. It is a number that sounds good in my head and looks good in the mirror. I see the 160's just right there beside me, ready for me to grab it and step on. But I stand, clinging, swaying a bit, on my pole of 175.

I Cried

I am watching "What Would You Do?" on TV right now. It's only been on for five minutes, but it has dredged up an huge... IMMENSE amount of emotion for me, to the point I am sitting here in tears.

If you didn't watch it, basically it is showing "healthy" weight people making comments to "fat" people in grocery stores based on the contents of their grocery cart (sugar, fat, junk). The people are actors, though. They just want to see what other people will do or say. Will someone step in when a stranger tells a heavy woman she is poisoning her child with the food in her cart? Will anyone say anything when a heavy person is being loudly verbally reprimanded by a stranger for eating processed foods?

"People wonder why they're fat!" (laughter)

If you haven't watched it, you should. I can't even begin to describe the things said by people.

But I didn't start typing to tell you about the show. I started typing because of the wave of emotion that hit me as I saw that heavy woman shopping, and the thin person berating her.

I am that woman. I am. Still. I don't care if I end up weighing 130 pounds and only eating salads and tofu. I am that heavy woman. When I hear the comments, they are PERSONAL to me. The fat jokes, the rude weight remarks. It hits me right here. I started crying immediately. Not so much because of what was being said.

But because people agree with it.

People don't usually shout at strangers in grocery stores. Mature adults don't often stare and snicker at the contents of a fat person's cart and say "Hey put down the cupcakes you cow, I am going to have to pay for your medical care when you get diabetes in 10 years." But you know what?

A lot of people think it.

A lot of people look at people and think that stuff but don't say it. And it kills me, it really does, it breaks my heart that people looked at me and thought those things, about how if I'd stop buying junk and have some vegetables I wouldn't be so fat. About how my weight was my own fault. About how I was just a big woman buying crap food and getting fatter, a liability to the public.

Maybe it hurts so much because that is what I thought of MYSELF at times. But I thought it was my little secret. I didn't know everyone else saw that I was fat and buying junk food. I didn't realize anyone had those thoughts when they saw me at 278 pounds in my car, alone in the parking lot cramming a Big Mac down my throat. I didn't suspect that anyone thought the horrible things about me that I thought of myself. That I tortured myself with. I felt so much shame. So very much.

I was really awful to myself sometimes. Called myself hopeless and fat and lazy. Thought about how if I'd just put down the bacon cheeseburgers I would lose weight. I abused myself in my head. And to know that other people... complete strangers... agree with those terrible, abusive thoughts is just overwhelming.

I know people think it. I read blogs. I read stuff on the Internet. I watch the news. "Hey fatty put down the cookies!" I know they look down on us. I always felt like a second class citizen when I was morbidly obese because I stood out, and people looked down on me.

And now they don't, and now they say things to me they would never say to an obese person. And people who never knew me when I was obese make comments about obese people that make me sick. And I say something about it, I tell them that is wrong. But I go home and cry because they were talking about ME, even though they didn't know it.

I thought about that today walking home from my daughter's school. I thought, gee. I feel like an average person. I do not stand out. When someone sees me and has to describe me they might say "the woman with the long wavy reddish brown hair" or "she was wearing a green sweater." They would not say "the heavy set woman" as their first descriptor. I fit in, physically. People can't tell. I have a secret. But I won't ever fit in mentally. I don't want to. I am the sum total of my experiences. And I won't forget the agony it took to get me to where I am today. I won't forget the pain and the hopelessness and the feelings of self hate because of what I ate and how I looked and felt.

That's why I cried. They were talking about ME. It hurts. They are talking about people I care about... about you, and my mother, and my friends. They are making judgements and believing them. They feel superior somehow, because they don't have the weight problems I've had. They think they are better, morally, for choosing a carrot over a candy bar. Why, why does the world have to be this way?

I cry, but in the end all I can do is be different. Be kind. Have compassion. Don't judge. All I can do is educate. Instead of melting into an emotional puddle over this stuff, I have to stand up and be the one in the grocery store who says, "hey, back off. It's none of your business. Leave her alone." Instead, I have to finally grasp that I AM NOT INFERIOR because I was fat... or WHEN I was fat. No one is inferior or superior due to body size.

I hope someday the whole world believes that, too.