Sort of The End: Then and Now..and from Now On.

O.K., I’ve mucked around and probably over-thought this post for long enough. If you’ve been battling your weight, struggling with weight-related health issues or are just beginning to suspect the tip of the iceberg…the first thing you must know is that you aren’t alone. The second most important thing you have to embrace is, that where you are right now…how you are…is your responsibility. Fat, thin, happy, sad; you are the one sitting in the driver’s seat. You got you there…and now…you can get yourself out…if that is inded what will make you happy.

Now, I’m going to tie up some loose ends here.

Just after I reached my goal, and had actually surpassed it, I found out that I had a whopping bad case of endometriosis and a whole team of fibroid cysts. Girly part issues…to be more delicate. Surgery was suddenly right smack in the middle of my plans, and recovery from it held eight long weeks of doing nothing. Two weeks of bed rest, and six more weeks of nothing more strenuous than making toast.

I bring this up because, life does manage to keep going on and you will encounter obstacles that will require you to work around. In this case, though I returned home from surgery bloated-up like a Kennedy after Oktoberfest. Of course this totally jacked with my hard-earned self-image. And yep…I gained a little weight back. Laying on the couch eating pudding cups and string cheese (even low-fat ones) will do that to a person. Hey…they told me protein would aid in healing. Evidently I over-indulged a bit. That, coupled with ceasing to move around for an extended amount of time gave me a great lesson in cause and effect. My records show that I gained about five pounds.

Yes…it was only a few pounds…but it freaked me right the hell out. I had worked so haaaaaard. And now mean old life was trying to sabotage me. B-o-o. H-o-o. Waaaaaaaaaa!

So yeah….I pouted and whined. But then I got over myself, went to a few WW meetings (after you hit your goal you only need to attend once a month to keep your membership active) and got myself back on track. Your head is where it’s at. The excuses AND the motivation. You just have to pick which one to listen to.

Bottom line: From start to goal reached, it took me 9 and a half months. That may sound like forever…but remember, it took YEARS for me to put on all those extra pounds. Years and years. So…nine months to do away with nine or ten years of weight? Not a bad deal, really.

I kept going to monthly meetings just to stay inspired and motivated. Plus I really liked some of the people I had met. When I decided to stop attending, due to schedule conflicts, I weighed in at 156.

I knew that, as long as I ate sensibly and continued moderate moving-around, my body would keep losing until it reached what it knew to be a healthy stopping place…and then it would maintain that weight. Through the months of recording my weight at meetings, I knew that once a month my weight would fluctuate by as much as three or four pounds…and then drop back down again. For you boys out there…it’s a girl thing. Ladies…you know what I mean.

Now some full disclosure:

When you go from this (somewhere between 145 and 150 lbs):

To this (at about 245 lbs):

And then back to this:

You might, not always the case, but you might end up with some areas that have been stretched to their limit…and don’t quite snap back. I’m guessing you are seeing what I’m referencing. For some people upper arm skin (wonderous wings) are the issue. For some…some chin-waddle or the ever popular “kangaroo pouch”. I’ve got a little wing-age. Maybe a little, tiny bit of waddle. And lord knows my ass, once quite bouncy, is now a boy-butt. Those are all things I wear with pride as my hard-won battle scars. But for me the only thing that I just couldn’t deal with was the fact that, while the containers were still there, what had been my boobs/rack/front end…were a meager shell of their original self. And a pretty shell it was not. They deflated like week-old party balloons. So…I made myself a deal. Once my weight settled in at a steady number…and I kept it that way for five years…I’d consider looking into fixing “the girls”.

Over more than five years I waffled back and forth. I was pretty much against cosmetic surgery. And after consulting with a surgeon I decided against it. He was creepy…..and the procedure he described seemed excessive. So…I thought about it for another couple of years. The turning point came when I realized that I couldn’t bend over without one or both of my ta-tas simply spilling out of bras and bathing suit tops. They had no substance…so I had resorted to under-gear with massive infrastructure to prop them up and make them look less like 1/3 filled sandbags. The longer I waited…the more I became frustrated…and really kind of pissed. I had worked so hard to get healthy…and here I was rewarded with sad, old-lady boobies that would eventually have to be tucked into the waistband of my pants.

Harsh.

So yes. I consulted with a really good surgeon…and got them refilled and put back where they used to be. No…not cheap…and no…not a very comfortable recovery. BUT…it was the last thing stopping me from feeling 100%. So consider…and understand …that with the weight loss may come some added updating and correction…depending on how your body does or doesn’t snap back. My advice? Take really good care of your skin as you lose weight. But…if you do end up where I did, needing a front-end alignment (heh)…feel free to ask and I’ll give you the straight poop on what having that done was like for me. I’m totally thrilled with the results…and I do feel like the old me once again.

Some hints and tips for you journey:

* Start with a week of writing down everything you put in your mouth.

* The next week…half each portion you eat.

* Only eat portions as big as your fist. Sounds stupid..but it’s a guide tool that you always have with you!

* Give Weight Watchers a shot. There really are some super supportive people involved there…and you won’t feel so overwhelmed and alone.

* Don’t skip meals. Simply eat smaller portions more frequently.

* One day a week…treat yourself. Something small and yummy that you love. Eat it slowly and savor it. 🙂

* Get off the couch. Even if you just walk around the block each evening or morning…that is progress! And it will help.

* Don’t let anyone tell you can’t do it. And if they try, use that as motivation to prove them wrong.

* Remember…this is your life. Only you can decide to get healthy. Nobody is going to do it for you.

* Don’t give up. Everyone trips up from time to time. Sometimes that big piece of cake is what you simply must have! So enjoy that damned cake, and then you start back over the next day and keep moving forward.

Honestly…if I left anything out here, if there is anything you want to ask me, or need to know, please feel free. You can leave a message for me here…or tag me on Facebook. I’d love to see everyone have the same success story that I’ve just presented to you.

So…without further ado.

This is me about a year ago in the very same overalls I wore to my first Weight Watchers meeting:

No more splitting seams 🙂 Go ahead…hang on to those favorite “fat pants”. When you reach your goal…taking a shot like this is fun.

And this….is me now (right around 143 lbs where I aims to stay):

And this…is proof that, with a little determination, everyone can find their happy ending..at whatever healthy size feels right to them:

I KNOW that you can totally do it too!

Coming soon:

As I was going through my whole weight loss adventure, my wonderful husband (pictured with me above) did 90% of the cooking. I had always been an unispired, and to be honest, unskilled cook. Through my quest to lose weight…and an unexpected adventure in heart attacks and open-heart surgery for him…we got schooled really hard in making the right food choices AND finding ways to make them taste really, really good. Recently I’ve started learning to love cooking. I’ve kept track of the recipes that are exceptional (as I am still a foody, after all), and I’m going to start sharing them here. So subscribe or keep checking back, and I’ll do what I can to help you find great healthy stuff to eat!

Yes, I’m Exactly That Easy.

So, last time we met I shared a bunch of resources and data and junk.

Then… I totally disappeared.

See, this is one of my bad habits that I am working to change just a tad. I am terribly easily distracted.

LOOK! A kitty!

Heh.

But seriously, one of my go-to excuses for not taking the reins when it came to my health and my weight was “Life just gets in the way!”. Classic case of I-Don’t-Finish-What-I-Started-itis. Note that nowhere in that last statement did you see the word “can’t”. Nope. I certainly can finish things. But I was always and forever getting distracted, saying whatever it was was “too haaaaaard” or changing my mind mid-stream. Lucky for me that I managed to keep my head out of my nether regions long enough to get the knack of living a healthier life. That is one thing that I am proud to say I finished.

So…an official apology for my unexpected seven month hiatus. No excuses. I am back…and I am not only going to finish this journey for your entertainment…but I’m going to do something even better, which you will have to wait until the end of this particular story to discover.

You’ve followed along as I was gloriously irresponsible, suffered the results, injured myself with furniture and stumbled upon a path to maybe not spending the rest of my life feeling so uncomfortable. I was, at that point, finally at least O.K. with being photographed (no more not so stealthily tripping over pets, furniture and small children in my haste to leave the room)…even if I did somehow always find a way to wedge someone or something in front of me. Then…suddenly…my “go” button got mashed. HARD! That sweet meeting leader at my Weight Watchers meeting reminded everyone that, when a person reaches certain goals, there are rewards!

PRIZES!!!!!

I am, evidently, a six-year-old.

We’re not talking PRIZES…like cars, boats or luxury vacations.

No. That would make my seat-dancing excitement quite understandable.

We’re talking gold star stickers! Magnets! And the FABULOUS KEY FOB!!!

I know. I’m beyond ridiculous. But those little star stickers were my carrot-on-a-stick that made my donkey-ass get it in gear!

That key fob?

It was my holy grail.

And did I mention? I would also be rewarded with CHARMS to hang ON the FABULOUS KEY FOB. One for each goal after I reached my first BIG goal.

CHARMS I SAY!

Yes, I am exactly THAT easy.

Now, I know this all seems pretty silly. But, the point I’m trying to make is, you have to find something to motivate you. Rewarding yourself (or if you have a partner, THEY can reward you) with material things or non-food treats (remember, you’re trying to unlearn that food-is-the-prize way of thinking) for reaching  small goals makes the process much easier and fun. Seriously, it takes a bit of time to really get things rolling to where you are rewarded with looking and feeling slimmer and healthier…so finding something to use as your carrot-on-a-stick. Something to keep you going, and encouraging you to try, when maybe you aren’t seeing or feeling tangible results yet. Or… when you have a couple of weeks where you don’t gain …but you don’t lose either (a plateau).

Sidebar: Those plateaus are a bitch. But you’ve got to remember…your body is having to relearn how to operate the way it was meant to from the get go…before you took it on a “no cookie left behind vacation” *wink*. Every now and again your body will get frustrated and dig its heels in…effectively saying “This is different. I need to think about this for a bit so I’m going to sit right here and not move”.

We’ve all been there. But your body WILL wake back up and start burning again…if you are giving it the fuel it needs and continuing to move around regularly (ie…not sitting on the couch and eating healthy portions of sensible food).

Bottom Line: Prizes GOOD!

Here’s proof (at somewhere around my initial main goal weight of 165):

Now…I mentioned not sitting on the couch. I think I stated this before…but, if I didn’t, I totally did not become some crazed and sociopathic gym-rat. Nooooo. I’ve known the crazed gym rats of which I speak…and they are kind scary. And not in a really good way.

Nope.

Like you, I have a life. And the life I had when I was starting the whole weight-loss adventure did not afford me the time or money to join a gym. So…I walked. Three times a week. A little longer walk each week.

That’s it.

When I started seeing some results, and feeling better about myself, I sort of drifted into being more active. I played frisbee on the beach. My husband and I joined a bowling league. I parked in the far reaches of the parking lot when I shopped….simply for the exercise. I just took a portion of the time I had free to walk (usually just before dinner…when I would have been sitting on the couch watching reruns of reruns of FRIENDS). After awhile I started carrying small hand weights with me…doing arm exercises that I found on this here “interweb”… as I chugged along. I can only believe that this helped me avoid some extra arm-waddle when I finally got down to my goal.

Simply put: Any amount of not-sitting-on-the-couch movement…three times a week for at least 30 minutes (as your goal. My first walk was barely 15 minutes…so don’t give up!) IS exercise.

This is not saying that those who have chosen the whole gym routine as their life are wrong. I’m simply stating that there is no rule that you have to run out and join a gym to get enough exercise to lose weight. So…do what feels right for you. Whatever you try (yoga, pilates, Zumba, the gym, walking, swimming…whatever) try to avoid throwing yourself into a 7 day a week workout until you are certain you really are THAT in love with whatever it is you choose. Manic and obsessive workout schedules kind of set you up for a big old case of burn out.  So, try whatever it is that you want to try to get moving two or three days a week for a while. There is no shame in deciding one method of exercise isn’t for you…as long as you try something else when you make that decision.

I did do the gym route for quite a while a year or so ago…long after I hit my goal…simply to learn some new exercise methods and tone up after recovering from a surgical procedure that left me feeling a little lazy and gooshy. I needed something to get me back on track…and my little affair with the weight machines did the trick. Plus, walking on the treadmill while watching TV in a nice air-conditioned gym is a hell of a lot better than stomping around out in the Florida Summer heat.

(And for those looking for a non-muscle-head, non-threatening gym I can recommend the Planet Fitness gyms. They have a good staff who really are interested in teaching you how to use the machines safely, AND will help you design a workout that will help you on your quest for a healthier you. All for about $10 a month. My mother suggests Curves gyms, where she works out every week. If, at 77, she can get out there and move, so can you! ;-).

Anyhooo…I enjoyed it for about a year. But then realized that, after moving out to the country, I could get plenty of exercise at home through yard work, house work and my trusty XBOX (Dance Central ROCKS!).   But, it was a great experience that helped me prove to myself that I can totally do the gym thing when needed. I’m actually still considering a treadmill or joining the gym just to use the treadmill…because I kind of dig the whole walking-miles-while-enjoying-the-AC-and-watching-House-Hunters-International thing.

Okidokie. This is where I’m going to stop for this entry. Next up…

The Big Reveal – Can someone actually keep weight off for good without eating only tree bark and only drinking from those annoying bottles of water everyone seems to be carrying?

And…Where I go from here: the planned evolution of this blog.

Here’s a clue, as promised up above:

FOOD!

To those who hung in there and knew I would come back; so much has happened since January. Some good, some bad…and some that will remain in the vault. Thanks so much for coming back and reading. And a double thanks to those who have shared my blog. I hope to have you with me here when I slide this baby in to home base 🙂

Raw Data & Tasty Facts

As luck would have it, the post that I intended to enter today has been sidetracked by computer hijinks. So, while The Hubster fiddles with the technical madness that is holding my archive of old photos prisoner, I thought I’d offer some good solid info for those who are trying to find a lifestyle path that is best for them to take on the weight loss challenge.

Following are some links that really are helpful, full of facts and answered many of my questions without being preachy or biased:

First, a list of the top four weight loss programs: http://www.consumersearch.com/weight-loss-programs

Second, some importance facts to help you choose what path is best for you: http://www.consumersearch.com/weight-loss-programs/important-features

Third, a full report and review of weight loss planning based on “solid research for Weight Watchers, the Atkins Diet, the Zone, Slim-Fast, Dean Ornish’s Eat More, Weigh Less and Volumetrics published in the Journal of the American Medical Association, Public Health Nutrition, the New England Journal of Medicine, Obesity Reviews and peer-reviewed science journals.”  http://www.consumersearch.com/weight-loss-programs/review

Many people use a number of the plans discussed at the links above in a stepping stone pattern. A short stint on a fairly restrictive plan, to get a jump-start and see some quick results. Then a somewhat less restricting plan, to help them get used to taking control and ease back into making nutritional choices on their own, and finally a plan of sensible eating that they can live with for the rest of their lives.

I’d also suggest anyone who wants to get down and dirty with nutritional knowledge check out this great book: http://www.amazon.com/Good-Carbs-Vs-Bad/dp/0425193845

This is an especially helpful book if you are dealing health issues associated with excess weight. It’s an easy read, helped me learn which foods helped me burn and which were tripping me up… and helped my husband gain control over his battle with diabetes.

Whatever you may choose, always run the plan past your general practitioner for the sake of your health, and then stay positive. Any amount of weight that a person might want to lose took time to put on. My own journey took me nine and a half months to get to my high goal. It took another few months for me to get down to my ultimate goal weight. I figure a year is a pretty reasonable amount of time to shed weight that it had taken me multiple years to put on.

And always…stick with facts. Lots of people have opinions, but the facts never lie.

Next up? How absolutely easy I am, when someone dangles a prize in front of me.

Don’t Blame The Baker.

Deciding to lose weight/get healthy was the easy part, I came to realize. So, this is where I clue you in on some of the odd reactions to expect if you choose to venture down the same path, as well as some tips and such that could make your journey just a tad easier.

First off, I love food. That is something that will never change for me. And honestly? Why give up something you love, right? No…my key to chugging toward my goal started with food journaling. Sounds like a cliché’ phrase, but it worked for me. I honestly had no idea how much food I was mindlessly grazing on. Try it. Take a week and write down everything you put in your pie-hole. I was shocked…and I’ll bet you will be too. Not just about the amount that I was eating, but about how sporadically I was eating. Nothing all day, and then macking out on the majority of a large pizza at night? Skipping lunch so that I could justify all-you-can-eat night at the local Mexican restaurant? And it became apparent that I almost never ate breakfast. This is where I learned a ton about listening to my body. Not eating all day was basically treating my body like some sort of concentration camp survivor. It was being denied nutrition so, when it was presented with food, it gorged and hung on to every single fat gram…every single carb…every calorie that it had been denied.

Clue phone: RING! Eating smaller amounts on a regular basis keeps me out of concentration camp mode, makes me less prone to hungry-crankiness and enables me to not pull a Miss Piggy when presented with a menu and a fork and knife.

Me.

Not that guy who brought donuts to the office. Not that girl who sits next to me with the cheesy potato skins and the double martini while we wait for our table to be ready. Not the people advertising tasty baked goodness on late night TV.

Me. I made the choice to eat like it was an Olympic event for a number of years. I was the one who was going to have to address the results.

So…this is where I talk about the notion of blaming other people for weight gain. If you do try Weight Watchers…this is the only common problem I see with the program.

Evidently…cake? Is evil. People who bake cakes? Evil. People who bake cakes and bring them into an area close to someone trying to get control of their weight/health? Way evil.

I don’t buy into this. Not one bit. Equating people who bake to drug pushers is just plain nonsense.

This became glaringly apparent to me during a Weight Watchers meeting. One of the other members, we’ll call her The Cake Hater, shared that she was angry that a woman in her office baked a cake for every employee’s birthday. The baker brought the cake into the office, where a small birthday celebration would take place during the lunch hour. The office staff, including the previously mentioned Cake Hater, would gather together…sing the birthday song…and then share the cake. The Cake Hater took this as a personal attack on her attempt to lose weight. In her mind, it was intentional sabotage! She HAD to eat cake EVERY SINGLE TIME someone had a birthday.

I sat there, listening to her share this experience, until she was red-faced and sweaty with rage.

“Ummm, couldn’t you just sing the birthday song, take a super small piece and…you know…enjoy the treat?” I said. “Or maybe sing the song, take the cake and pop it in the trash at your desk…you know…just to be polite? Or, hey, just say “No cake for me, thanks…but happy birthday!” and go on with your day?”

This was met with a glare from the “All tasty foods are evil” side of the room.

And yes, there will be people who feel that, to lose weight, one must never again let anything joyful and tasty touch their lips. I. personally, find them way cranky and lacking in even the most basic self-control. And I do believe this is due to the lack of baked goods. Just sayin’.

Some discussion and heated debate ensued…ending after I said…”Ummm, you chose to eat that big piece of cake. Nobody held a gun to your head and MADE you.” And then the meeting leader changed the subject, fearing rioting from the cake-deprived set.

So…here’s the thing. IF you are making the decision to change your life, don’t suck all of the joy out of it. Or out of anyone else’s life. Lots of people are happy as clams, just as they are. Let them be. Don’t harsh on their happy with a higher-than-mighty attitude about food. YOU are responsible for you. Own it. I know I did. As much as I would have liked to blame my weight issues on other people, the media, drive-thru restaurants and Nabisco displays…I made the choice to make them such a huge part of my mis-balanced diet. Nobody was standing down a dark alley going “Pssst, you want some good stuff?” And even if they were…I had the choice to ignore them. They weren’t pushing food. No. I? Was drinking the Kool-Aid all by myself.

So…yep. I totally think anyone who wants to change their life can. They just have to really want to. Unfortunately, you might come to find that, when you make positive changes in your life…some people will have not such nice things to say about it. Good friends will cheer you on. But it will be quickly apparent who your not-so-good friends are by the way they react. Those of you who have been down this same path know….and it can be a bit of a bitter pill. So be prepared for people who will insinuate that you have an eating disorder…or that you are wasting your time. Stick with the people who encourage you and you’ll be good.

Did some people drift away from me as I lost pounds. Yep. Did the women in the office I worked in at that time stop asking me if I wanted anything when they ordered out. Yes. Did it bother me? Of course. But mainly because I expected everyone to be as thrilled for me as I was. That just doesn’t happen. Some people are threatened that you start looking slimmer and better. Others might be upset that you can do something they can’t…or won’t. I dealt with this…and still do, when I run into people who haven’t seen me since my heavier days. I have heard second-hand that I “obviously had Weight Loss Surgery”…or that someone whispered “You know she doesn’t eat ANYTHING” or better, the very encouraging “You know you’ll gain it all back”..right to my face. Yep, people will talk. But I had to rest confident in the fact that I knew that I did it the healthiest way possible, and that I held the control over my own success or failure. I tried to remind myself of the time when I, a fat girl, sneered and said not so nice things about “the skinny girls”. I tried, when I could, to reason with the person who was being negative about my positive. Sure, listen to the feedback. Someone might catch you being a little too manic with your dieting…or excercising too much…and stop you from hurting yourself, but some are simply unhappy that you are happy. Those who cheer you on are keepers. Those who try to throw a wrench in the monkey-works, for no other reason than that perhaps your feeling good about yourself makes them feel bad about themselves….well…they should have been tossed out long ago.

Bottom line? Own your fat…and, if you are so inclined, own the way you go about getting rid of it. You worked hard (even if you don’t realize you did) to gain the weight, and you’re going to work hard to lose it. Be proud, but don’t be self-righteous. Do what you know is right for you, but don’t expect everyone around you to follow suit.

And, most important?

Don’t blame the baker.

A world without cake is not a very happy world at all.

Stiletto Mourning

R.I.P…my lovely bargain basement designer shoes.

It is a sad, sad day when your shoes abandon you.

The “Underwear Incident” was embarrassing, but ultimately funny. That I could live with. Buy some new undies, toss the car-cover ones and move on. Easy-peasy.

But this?

This was a horror beyond all imaginable.

At about fifty pounds down I was totally feeling the groove. I had this! I was in control. Yes indeedy!

I had found some of the most awesome consignment stores to buy, what I like to call ,my “Interim Wardrobe”. My biggest score was a snappy black and white daisy print sundress for three dollars! Losing weight, or even simply getting in shape, does call for some changes in sizing. Every girl (or smart and stylish guy) knows that clothes are an investment. So, when you are working toward a goal you have to be thrifty…as you may only be in that particular size for a few weeks or so. Finding a great second-hand/comsignment shoip is the key to not having to wear oversized pants, all cinched up at the waist like Jed Clampett, while working your way toward your goal.

Know what I mean?

But…I was totally unprepared to suddenly find myself walking out of my formerly snug shoes. And of course, in true dork-fashion, my first experience with this phenomena…was on an escalator. Picture me standing tall and proud in my smaller sized undies (which, of course only I knew about…but still, it was way cool!), gliding doooown the escalator, maybe thinking about doing the Royal Wave…just for kicks… when I go to step off at the bottom and BAM!!…almost performed a face-plant right outside The Gap.

(Note: Do we all feel the urge to smack the twelve-year-old sales girls in there…or is it just me?)

What the hell? Right?

After righting myself, and sliding my size nines back into my favorite Spanish Leather pumps I realized….they were suddenly too big! They fit fine last week! I clomped my way out to my car and kicked my beloved shoes off on the floorboard.

What the hell?

My shoes! My one source of happiness, no matter what size the rest of me might be.

I rushed home, threw open my closet doors, plopped down on the floor and started pulling pair after pair of shoes from the bottom of the closet that my husband had long ago deemed The Shoe Shrine. I’ll admit it…I am, and always have been, a bit of a shoe-whore. I love unique, sexy and fun shoes…and, at this point and time, had collected quite a display of quite fabulous footwear. They were my hobby…and my cherished little piece of heaven…even at Payless BOGO and Cross-Dress-For-Less prices.

And suddenly??? My feet had….shrunk? Leaving me shoeless?

So. WRONG!

I did not see this ANYWHERE in the Weight Watchers paperwork! There should be a warning label. Something that says “Oh, hey…getting healthy makes your knickers fall off when you sneeze…and yeah, those awesome designer shoes you got on sale for such a bargain? Totally say bye-bye to those bad boys.”

I was so pissed. But then, hey, I was sort of happy too. I mean, even my feet were getting smaller. But, damn…what was I going to do about footwear? So not fair! But then again…really cool, right?

My id, ego and super-ego were in an all out war of reason.

To say I was torn was an understatement. And this is the lesson you learn when you base your identity in what your wear. Even just a little bit.

Lesson learned. I tip my hat to you Madame Fate.

And there was more shrinkage to come. But we’ll just save that for a bit later. Okidokie?

Now, just a bit of a deviation from the main flow of the river of this blog. You’ll notice that I have not recently shared many photos, save one or two, of myself during this point in my journey. The reason for that is…this blog isn’t about me. Well, O.K. it is an account of my getting-healthy-losing-weight dealio…but, my goal for this blog is to put some common ground out there for anyone who might be trying to make this kind of change in their life. I’m not looking for any acclaim or notoriety. I would just like to provide some information that I wish I had access to when I was trudging along, hoping to succeed.

Simple as that.

Read it. Love it. Hate it. It’s all fine by me.

The one thing I never was, throughout this process (I keep saying “journey” and it’s making even me all pukey), was pathetic. O.K….maybe for a minute during The Coffee Table Incident…but outside of that? I have always been, and forever will be, so freaking upbeat you’ll just want to slap me.

*big grin*

That’s just me. The last time I worried about being judged for my appearance was sometime in my early teens. I know I’m a super-awesome person (I’m guessing you are too!) and as long as I know that, only super-awesome people will take up residence in my orbit. Every now and again a bad egg will slide in under the radar, but they’ll get spun out again soon enough…and leave you even smarter and more awesome. And really…you totally know you make more progress on any project if you are positive…right?

Sounds all funky and new-age-like…but try it. Love who you are, flaws and all, and you’ll be amazed how stress-free life becomes. Take every single situation that you come upon, and feel to be negative, and dig out that one nugget of positive. It’s there…I promise. You just have to WANT to see it! This, I believe…ultimately, was the root of my drive and determination. While I knew my heart and soul were super-cool, my body was sending up a red flag that maybe I just might want to pay a little more attention to my packaging, before it decided to up and quit on me…right?

This is also why I have shared the record of my weight loss. So readers can see that it doesn’t just *poof* drop off overnight. The most healthy and sensible way to lose is slowly, naturally…and without some crazy starvation or drug-supported fad-type diet. Does it take self-control? Sure. Is it hard at first? Of course. Is it better than yo-yoing up and down, becoming a slave to the gym, letting some maybe-experienced person inject you with vitamins and god-knows-what else, or emptying your bank account to eat packaged meals delivered right to your doorstep until you want to scream? Yep. Totally.

So…fifty pounds or so down…and that’s just about when, unknowingly, I pissed some people off.

To be, as they say, continued… 😀

Underwear that’s (not so) fun to wear.

A person can be amazed by so many things. The big things, well, people warn you about them. Or they go on at length about what you have to look forward to in the future. But, where peole might forget to give one a heads-up would be on those little, teensy details. Here’s one of them: As a person loses weight they MIGHT want to check into thinking ahead and sizing down their undergear.

To be more blunt; your panties/undies are going to go all granny-like. It happens all of a sudden. Sure I was browsing the interweb with my glimmer of hope to someday shop outside the plus-sized section. I looked at jeans and cute tops, at sundresses and even *gasp* bathing suits. I was giving myself goals. What I did not consider was that, as I got smaller, my underwear was kind of seeming bigger. Less clingy. Less elastic-digging-into-me-ish. I just knew I was more comfortable, and comfortable is always good, right? But sometimes there is a TOO comfortable.

I came upon this little nugget of info, that certainly someone should have mentioned, split seconds after I experienced a man-sized sneeze…

…in a busy department store…

…while wearing a skirt.

My big-girl-panties had headed south like the bullet train, and I was left struggling with a mixture of shock, the urge to jump for joy and a debate with myself about how I should go about returning my undies to their rightful place…ie…not on the floor in front of a department store make-up counter. Bending over would certainly scar someone in my hind-view for life. Squatting didn’t seem like a good plan either. But someone was going to notice if I just stood there with my big, old bloomers around my ankles, right?

I managed a quick flip with my foot, snatched them off of my shoe and stuffed them in my purse.

I know I was beet red, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and a little bug-eyed dealing with all those emotions while trying to pay for a tube of lip gloss that I know the saleswoman thought I was way too emotional about…but one woman’s embarrassment is another’s triumph. For the first time in forever and a half…

I needed SMALLER undergarments!

So, you’re probably asking yourself “When does this happen?”. Well, let’s look at the record of my progress:

While I will say that I dug all around for ALL of my Weight Watchers records….I was missing one. The one with the really big number on it from the first day I walked in.If it hasn’t turned to dust from wear and tear…I’ll track it down. But…this was from about the time gravity swept in to remind me that it is all powerful. At twenty five to thirty pounds down is where an underwear purchase is necessary. Comfy as they may have been, those granny panties were a thing of the past. Or at least in the car-cover size I had been wearing.

As we continue on here, I’ll share the rest of my nifty little records so that you can see that weight loss really is a journey that takes time, if you do it the healthy and sensible way. But it is SO very worth it.

But wait…more wierd and kooky stuff was changing. And this next one was going to be a heart-breaker.

Not That There’s Anything Wrong With It

So…let me restate and retouch on something from my last entry. Deprivation is not healthy. Crash, fad and extreme diets (there’s that word again) are not an option for long term success. Crash. Now that just sounds bad from the get-go, right? CRASH! Nothing good ever came from crashing. Fads are simply that; the newest craze that someone has thrown out there to make a quick buck by getting you to buy their book, plan or supplement. Extreme is another danger word. It is a word that implies un-natural, less than sane endeavors.

Now…I’m not saying these “diets” are not a chance to get some results quickly…and that’s always good for helping a person see that they CAN do it. BUT, none of those “diets” should be started without running them by your doc first. Many of them are hard on organs that you really do need, and most of them are certain to put a dent in your wallet. And most importantly….you can’t stay on them permanently. They are either too strict, or too risky health-wise, to keep you happy and confident and…well alive in a manner where other people want to be around you. If you MUST try a quicky-jump-start diet…by all means do. But see your doc first, and have the doc help you work out a plan for transitioning to healthy eating that will help you continue to lose without making you cranky and crazy. And using drugs to achieve weight loss? Don’t get me started. Again, danger outweighs (no pun intended) the benefits.

There is a very valid reason people who do the above mentioned kind of diets are ALWAYS on a diet. Because those plans aren’t realistic.

And that’s why…after trying all those other “plans”, I decided on Weight Watchers. It had the most success statistics for long-term and healthy living. All I had to do was re-learn how to eat more like a human being, and less like a garbage disposal.

Simple, right?

Huh. Well…not totally. Relearning what a portion size really is (a normal one that doesn’t require two plates) was a bit of a struggle. A portion size of most main course food is about the size of your fist.

Suddenly, I was pretty certain that I had freakishly tiny hands.

So yeah…I bitched and moaned a bit more. And I walked. I invested in bike shorts…to cut down on thigh-rash…and bought a new pair of cross-trainers (with pink stripes!). It took about two weeks for me to settle in, as I’ve said previously, and another week or so to get a grip on what foods, in small portions, made me feel content. I ferreted out all of the zero point and one point foods and made a list. Strawberries and green beans ranked REALLY high on my top ten.

Now, here is a great part about eating healthy. I found that I got to eat more frequently. As a rule, I kept myself to a schedule of three meals and three snacks a day. That’s a whole lot of food! And I found that eating smaller amounts more frequently changed how I was feeling. I wasn’t STARVING by lunch time. I wasn’t crashing and falling asleep at my desk by two o’clock. I didn’t dive into my dinner like it was an Olympic eating event. And I didn’t feel like I was on a “diet” because I got to have a snack in  the evening. I didn’t feel deprived, and I was trying healthier foods that I didn’t even know I liked.

Strawberries dipped in Splenda, ya’ll. Check ’em out.

About this time I found that I wasn’t flinching anymore when someone pulled out a camera. And those size 18-20 overalls that I wore to my first meeting?

They were getting a little wiggle-room in them.

Huh. Not starving. Not about to pass out after my daily walks. Possibly seeing a need for smaller clothes in the near future.

Little did I know what my first very real need in the wardrobe department would be.

I’ve Got A Plan, Man!

Obviously I saw something sparkly and wandered off again. Simply put…new grandbaby…holidays…and a very good and productive life have kept me away from my desk. This is a very good thing. But I need to grab the reins…and continue the story I originally began telling you back in April of this year.

So…here we go.

The one thing I feared more than failing (again), upon choosing to actually do something about my body, was becoming one of those self-righteous people who constantly rattle on about their weight loss. You know the ones I’m talking about. Those people who steer every conversation to allow them to grandstand about their newly-found diminutive asses. Every friend, family member, cashier, waitress and co-worker get’s a full on sales pitch about how the way THEY did it is the ONLY way, and how you simply MUST do what they did. What size they were…and what size they are now. What they eat. How many times they go to the gym. How “responsible” they are, including many utterances of “Oh…I don’t eat that. I can’t have that. That isn’t on my diet.” Oh..and assuming that everyone has problems with their weight and just doesn’t have the guts to do what THEY did. They have no clue that not everyone bases their whole worth in their body image, and little to no regard for other people’s feelings or background.

Honestly…I still want to punch those people in the throat. And this very thing is why I resisted…and am still reluctant… to discuss my story. My only reason for starting this journal/blog was to have somewhere to send someone who came to me and asked for the “how I did it” story…without my having to go on about it at length in person. I figured…write it all up once, put it where people can read it if they want to…and never have to become one of THOSE people.

So, it was with great trepidation that I walked into my home, clutching my Weight Watchers start pack and point guide, to present what I thought was a total lifestyle change to by husband. After my “pants explosion meltdown” (and yes, that is how we recall it years later) I KNOW he was on pins and needles that day, when I set out to acquire yet another weight-loss-lottery-ticket. After all…he had suffered through all the fad and pseudo-science nonsense that I had grasped at in the past. Supplements, drugs, injections and wildly strictive diet plans that promised to melt the pounds away. I was totally expecting an eye-roll. And, honestly, knew that this time I might be all on my own.

But, no. To my astonishment, my husband reached for my points guide. He read the helpful hints and meal suggestions as if they were the Playboy Adviser. No lie.

“We can do this.” he proclaimed, and grabbed the truck keys. “Let’s go to the store and see what’s what.”

So…I grabbed my little points calculator thingy…and off we went to Wally World.

Now…here’s where I give you some straight poop. Adjusting to eating right is a bitch…at first. We spent WAY longer than we ever did on grocery shopping that day. It wasn’t about what I could and couldn’t eat, but about how we could go about preparing meals that we liked, and that were satisfying, but that would be better for us. My husband was (and is) a heart disease patient. He had long ago started to adjust his diet so that he wouldn’t…well…die. A heart attack will do that for a person. I? Wanted to avoid that little adventure in the ER, if possible. So yes, for the first couple of weeks there was a lot of label-reading and points-calculating. As I’ve said before, Weight Watchers isn’t a diet. It is simply re-teaching you (or for many..teaching you) how to eat like we all were taught (or should have been) when we were little.

Deprivation is NOT healthy, mentally or physically. Deprivation is what you do when you DON’T have the ability to feed yourself. Deprivation is an eating disorder. I, don’t do well when I am deprived. This whole thing about obesity that the US has going on is about portion size and balance. And I needed to relearn both….so I didn’t…well…end up in a wheelchair..or, like, die. Two weeks in which I grumbled and bitched and moaned (I have a gift), made way for a sudden pride. I was no longer hungry all the time. I didn’t eat…and then thirty minutes later just totally crash and have to nap. I worked the points so that I could have a glass of wine…or a package of Sugar Babies (4 points, ya’ll!) at the end of the day. We set it up so that, if I kept up with healthy choices and portion control all week, on Saturday evening I could totally have a cheeseburger and fries…or pizza…or anything else I wanted, as long as I kept an eye on portion size.What seemed, at first, to be a freaking pain in the ass…became second nature. And each week, when I weighed in, I was seeing results. Anywhere from a pound to three pounds a week!

When the Weight Watchers leader gave the go-ahead for exercise…I balked. I really disliked exercise. And honestly, with the ham-hocks I called legs, who could blame me? Can you say “chafing”? Being that I abhor gyms, and most of the people in them, I chose walking. I could walk, right? After my first walk around the block I was SO mad at myself. How could I be SO out of shape that a walk around my neighborhood left me panting and drenched in sweat? Honestly! I love me! Why would I let ME end up this way? The next day I clenched my fists and huffed and puffed my way through two circuits around my block. I did this every day. I HATED it! But I also was NOT going to let my fat ass get in the way of accomplishing something.

When I weighed in that first week after leaving most of my neighbors witnessing my impression of a really pissed off steam engine every evening I was ready to quit. This was TOO hard. I couldn’t do it. I was a loser.

Then, the lady behind the counter handed me back my weight record.

Six pounds. I…had…lost…SIX pounds!! In one week!!!

Note: If your eyes are filled with tears of joy, wait a minute for your vision to clear before you decide to skip across a meeting room. Totally crashed into a row of chairs and had to employ Ministry of Sillywalks skills to regain balance.

But SO worth it!!

This? Was the beginning of something AWESOME! I could take this plan and make it my own! I could learn and modify, and maybe even win! All without giving up anything!

How cool is THAT?

Scales, Gold Stars and Riding with The Crazy Train.

So…where were we?

Oh, yes…the parking lot in front of the Weight Watchers meeting place.

This is me extending an apology for blinking out for a bit.I was momentarily distracted by some family drama. I’m back now 😀

Let me first say this; having a Weight Watchers office behind a Burger King and next to a Publix grocery store that pipes all of the golden, yummy smells from their bakery into the parking lot? A little bit mean. Right? You actually have to drive past the Burger King drive-thru to get to Weight Watchers. I found this half cruel…and half funny as shit. That’s just me.

Anyhow, I marched myself straight in the front door and announced that I was giving them another chance to help me and my fat ass.

Yep, I’m like that. I do not blend into the background. Auntie Mame and I would have gotten along just fine. Better to be looked at than overlooked and all that.

Well, this is where I found out that “fat” is a non-word at WW. “We don’t use that word here” the very nice girl behind the counter whispered. This puzzled me. I mean…why not? That’s why we’re all sitting in this storefront full of sturdy chairs…right? But I didn’t say that, because I really did want to give this another chance, and my overalls were digging into my sides…reminding me that I really needed to make this work. So I filled ou the enrollment stuff, and the questionnaire and paid my membership fee. The counter I stood at was lined with scales…but no read-outs to see the weight. The girl behind the counter explained that they did this so that those who were really touchy about the numbers could keep it to themselves. Only the WW rep, behind the counter, could see the actual weight numbers. They would write the number in a little booklet that each member carried, and indicate there if there had been a gain or loss…then fold it up and discreetly hand it back to the person. I rolled my eyes (which I do a lot) and thought…”GEEZ people are so touchy! It’s just a number!” But I kept my yap shut, kicked off my shoes (which I figured weighed at least a pound) and stepped on the scale. The WW girl looked, scribbled something on a little booklet, slipped it into a plastic case and slid it across the counter me…quietly saying “Welcome to Weight Watchers. We’re glad you’re here!” I thanked her, grabbed my shoes and went and found a chair next to the person I arrived with, then slipped my little booklet out to see where I had weighed in.

247.

Two Hundred and Forty Seven pounds.

I kept staring at the booklet.

The person I had arrived with glanced over. “Wow! That’s a big number! You outweigh me by a bunch!”

This is where we come to a very important lesson in weight loss.

Don’t join Weight Watchers with a psychotic/sociopathic nut job.

I mustered a “Yeah” and something like a chuckle, but outside of that I was without words.

I knew I was heavy. I thought maybe 180. Possibly 200…as that was the last number I had remembered seeing in the scale. But 247? Ouch.

So I sat and listened. Really listened. I listened and looked through the books and guidelines that had been provided to me. I listened and gazed around at the other people in the room. Some were older than me. Some were younger. Many were much heavier than me. Two people were confined to wheelchairs and another two…one my age…used walkers to support the weight that they could no longer move around the world themselves. There were a lot of people in that room. All of them trying to change their lives and be healthy. I had felt like such a loser…and so alone in my fat-ness. But here was a whole room of people who were, basically, just like me. Suddenly I felt not so alone.

I listened on as the plan was described. No exercise for the first couple weeks. Just follow the points-plan (a calculation that combines fat, carbs, fiber, etc..and comes up with a point value for foods) that would be worked out for me at the end of the meeting, and write down everything I put in my mouth. Simple…and no “Get out there and join a gym!”. Nothing was off-limits. Just the amount of anything that I ate was governed. So…I could have anything I wanted, as long as I came in at or under my total daily points.

O.K…I could do that. I would do that.

After the meeting I met one on one with a counselor, who asked my ultimate goal (I said 165) and then calculated the first step in my plan. All I needed to work on right now was losing 10% of my body weight. Once I managed that, the numbers would be refigured to lose the next 10%…and so on. I was also given a bookmark. Every time I lost weight, or shared in the meetings…I would get a gold star. For certain landmark losses (10, 20, 30 lbs…etc) there were reward prizes as well. The first…a key chain.

Yes…this totally did it for me. I love prizes. Give me a sticker or a dime store trinket and I am giddy. I am that easy.

So…off I went, riding in a car with the nut job, back toward home.

I decided right then and there, listening to the nut job rattle on about “all those fat people”, that this was my challenge. Nobody else’s. And there was NO way I was going to succeed with The Crazy Train as my partner. I would drive myself to meetings and work the plan on my own.

Now I just had to break it to The Hubster that I needed to make some changes in how we…or at least I…ate.

Revelations and a Butt-load of Lace

So…let’s back up a bit. Or, more accurately, let me share some of my frenzied investigation after receiving the news that I was well on my way to *gasp* morbidly obese. Gastric bypass surgery was all the rage at the time. A girl I bowled league with had recently undergone the surgery. Hers was a life or death decision. Being just over five feet tall, and weighing in at close to three hundred pounds, her body had just about had it. Her doctor had indicated to her that, due to her legs being just about ready to throw in the towel and a plethora of other weight-related health issues, she would be in a wheelchair before her young daughter graduated high school. She would not see her daughter graduate from college. Her overworked heart was already throwing up warning signs that a cardiac ward was going to be a regular stop in her life very soon. Excercise was impossible, as she could barely walk short distance without having to sit and rest. There were no options for her outside of surgery and a drastic change in her life. She found the best surgeon possible, mortgaged her home and had the surgery.

I talked with her about her experience. The surgery was grueling. The medications she had to take had side effects. The post-surgery meal plan was restrictive and she had to make regular trips to Miami to follow-up with her doctors for at least the first year after the surgery. She had regular psychological counseling to attend and physical therapy to track her progress and monitor her health. But…it gave her a chance at maybe living to see her child grow up. The weight she had carried for years had done damage to her body…but the surgery at least gave her a chance.

So, then I dug in to research. The surgery was not for everyone. I read stories of people who had the surgery and ignored the after-care. I won’t even go into the details…but it wasn’t pretty. Especially the stories of people who were not morbidly obese, and had the surgery as a “simple” fix to simply being overweight. The recovery was not pleasant or quick. Not addressing how they became overweight in the first place, and returning to the same eating habits, often resulted in worse medical complications than just simple being fat. Add to that, the expense of the surgery (which at the time, if one saw a reputable specialist) was huge. Giving up what little we had, simply so that I could find a doctor who would do the surgery…even though I really wasn’t a candidate, seemed selfish to me.

So…I talked to everyone I knew who was trying to, or had succeeded at, losing weight. My conversations ran the gamut from people who were (no way to put this nicely) hooked on speed masquerading as diet pills to people whose lives had become consumed with obsessing over every morsel that touched their lips. I talked to people who had become gym-junkies, working out six days a week and who could talk of nothing but their battles with the bulge. I talked to people who had tried but given up…accepting their being overweight, yet living with the knowledge that, in the future, health would become an issue. They seemed defeated and angry. I talked to plenty of people who were on the same diets, diet pills, supplements and TV-advertised “miracles” that I had already tried. And I talked to a few people who attended Weight Watchers. Some were happy with it, some were not…but all of them had seen some success.

The one defining factor with everyone I talked to was that they all wished they had tried to do something prior to turning forty.

I was on the horizon of seeing forty…so if I was going to make a real effort to shed the weight, it would seem now was the time.

So…I made a list. I listed the things that my weight was stopping me from doing and the things that my weight made uncomfortable. Everything from the superficial to the embarrassing. I couldn’t shop in mainstream stores due to size restrictions. I had to consider the sturdiness and width of chairs I sat in. Running, after or away from anything, was not impossible…but resulted in much sweating, wheezing and most usually toppling over at some point. There were parts of my body I hadn’t been able to see in quite some time. My love of pretty underwear was trumped by my need to buy granny-panties. My digestive issues had me constantly worried about where the closest restroom was and worrying about who would hear me when I was using one. Sex was, to put it delicately, a dicey and somewhat stumbling affair. Yearly bathing suit shopping always resulted in my crying in a dressing room. Family members either tip-toed around the issue of my size, or jokingly made mean comments. The list went on and on. To be fair I made a list of the positive points as well.

That I was perceived as “jolly” and had a “pretty face” did not outweigh the cons.

Finally, I went back to the photos. I hadn’t always been heavy. It had slowly crept on over the years. I hadn’t been born this way. I was the master of my own creation. I had gone from your classic kid…

to your average high school student…

to a college student full of adventure…

And somewhere I had lost control…or maybe just ignored simply being sensible. I just stopped paying attention to me, and got lost in worrying about everything and everyone else.

My first realization, albeit a fleeting one, was captured in my wedding photos. This…is a whole butt-load of lace.

This kid, who wanted to be an Olympic swimmer/actress/model/vet/model/writer/princess…

did not deserve to end up being this woman…

…who was currently afraid of cameras, mirrors and folding chairs…and had stupid coffee-table-induced injuries simply because bending over restricted blood flow to her stubborn brain.

It was now or never. So…on an early Saturday morning I found myself, feeling beaten…embarrassed…angry and a little bit excited… climbing out of a car in the parking lot in front of a Weight Watchers meeting center.

And yes…I was wearing those overalls.