I Did Not Think I Was Worthy

This past weekend I attended a Christmas party.  I had bought a dress for the event.  It was something I had not wanted to wear a dress in a very long time.  I took a chance wearing the dress.  I was not sure I could pull it off.  I doubted myself.  I worried about wearing it.  I did not think I was yet worthy of being able to dress like I have wanted to all my life but didn’t because I did not think I was worthy.  I believed that because I was so obese that dressing fun was not an option.  Big women should not show as much skin, or cleavage or dare think that it was ok to wear cute stuff.  I was not going to live up to all the pretty people at the party on Saturday so why bother.  And then I said to hell with it.  I AM WEARING THE DRESS.

There is something deeply sad about the things that I used to and still think and say about myself.  It is terribly saddening to me that I cannot get these thoughts out of my head and what is even sadder is that I have had these thoughts since I was a little girl.  I talked to myself like I was the enemy.  I judge myself all the time on being too big.  Recently in a dressing room I sat by myself and looked at my stomach and thought for just a moment, I have lost 60 pounds and I am still huge, so what is the point.  I was frustrated because my body does not look the way it used to and I could not find anything that fit or looked good on my body as it was for this period of time.  I know the problem is that I was still trying to put this new body in to the same clothes that I used to wear.  It was frustrating and for several minutes I hated myself.  I sat on the chair wondering why, even in success, I found failure.

I had a grandmother that lived with me growing up.  She was my father’s mother.  She was not a happy person and she did not like me.  You see, I laughed a little too loud, I said what I thinking, and I wanted to happy more than anything in my life.  She was miserable.  I learned later in life that she never thought her mother loved her.  That she was once happy but something had changed in her during WWII.  She never hugged or smiled which was the opposite of my other grandmother.  We called her Gramma Bea.  She would bake cookies all the time.  I don’t mean a dozen at a time.  She baked dozens at a time.  Then she would hoard them and only give them to me when she thought I was being good but her definition of good.  She used food as weapon.  She would pinch my stomach and tell me I was fat.  She would pinch my arms and tell the same thing.  She would say to me “Go ahead and eat a cookie, your face will get so big no one will want to look at you.”  She would call me chubby, fat, rotund, pudgy, and any other word she could use to wound me. She would moan about having to shop for me at Sears in the Pretty Plus section for girls.  I don’t know what I did to her.  Perhaps I reminded her of someone in her past that had hurt her. Maybe I was too much like my mother.  She was supposed to love me but to me she hated me.  I would eat even though it was the one thing she did not want me to do. I hear all that she said to me and more in my head.

It wasn’t just Gramma Bea that said things like this to me.  Kids in school were cruel as well.  When you are as tall as I am and a bit overweight they zero in on the insecurities that I could not hide.  Add in a divorce and those awkward years and the recipe for self hate equals to lots of emotional eating and weight gain.  My school would do the yearly weigh in with all of us lined up and the nurse would call out the weights.  That was not fun.  I remember I was 209 in the 8^th grade weigh in. When the nurse announced my weight all the girls started laughing.  I was crushed.  I look back on photos of me then and I think how anyone could have thought I was fat.  I was a softball player and on the track and field team.  I was muscular and fit and I was about 20 pounds overweight. That moment is clearly locked in to my brain.  It was humiliating.  I went home and ate because I was so ashamed of my body.

And then the topics of worth became an issue.  I did not think I was worthy of love.  My mother once told my brother that she hoped he would find someone that he loved, and that she hoped that I would find someone that would take care of me.  I looked and her and asked if she thought I was not worthy of love.  She back peddled but I don’t think she thought love would be mine to have.  So I dated boys and men that did not love me as much as I loved them.  I married young and quick because I was probably afraid that I would not find anyone else.  He even ended up telling me I was too fat for him when we got divorced.  It was shot in anger but I am sure there was some truth to it.  It took a long time for me to like myself.  My next relationship was a total rebound disaster and I picked the wrong person again.  I stayed single a long time and thankfully I know I got it right this time.

This journey of losing weight is so much more powerful than I ever expected it to be.  There is a lot that happens when we overeat.  We cannot just work on the food.  We have to explore the why and how we eat and what food means to us.  We have to forgive the little girls and boys that live in us that only want to be loved.  My grandmother has been dead almost 15 years and there is still a part of me that just wants to hear her tell me she loves me.  There is a part of me that wants those girls in grade school to say they are sorry.  There is a part of me that wants to hear my ex-husband say he loved me no matter what my size was.  They are not going to do that for me.  I have to do that for me. There is no one else to do it for me.  I have to fix the little girl in me.  I have to also say it is ok for me to goof up.

I have to say I am worthy of it all.  I AM WORTHY OF LOVE, SUCCESS, HOPE, HAPPINESS, STRENGTH, AND RESPECT.   TO LOVE MY BODY NO MATTER HOW I AM NOW AND HOW I WILL BE AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN.

To release myself I am going to write out all the things I say to myself now and in the past.  I am putting it to rest.  Does not mean it won’t come out again but I will know it when I hear it. 

I don’t think I can do ____________ because I am too fat.

If only I would lose weight I would be so much attractive.

No fat chicks allowed.

I hate my ___________ (insert any body part here).

I am worthless.

No will care how big I will get.

I hate my body.

I look stupid.

I look fat.

My ass is huge.

I can’t wear a dress, I will look ridiculous.

I will never find any clothes that will look good on me.

I can’t wear a swimsuit, no one wants to see me on a beach or at the pool like this.

How could I be so stupid and eat all that food.

I will never be able to lose enough weight to make a difference.

I ate _______(insert food here) so I might as well eat crappy the rest of the day.

No one will ever love me.

 Goodbye bad thoughts. 

 Hello Rose, you are wonderful, beautiful, determined, happy, loved, and you will be a success.

The Feeling of Defeat

For the first time in this weight loss journey I felt a bit of defeat this weekend.  I should probably not feel this way since I have lost over 60 pounds so far on this journey.  I should feel good about things all the time.  But sometimes I don't feel that way.  Sometimes I feel frustrated by the process.  Here is why.

I don't know how to dress anymore.  Seriously.  I don't.  I have lost a lot of inches in my waist and hips but not so much in my stomach.  My spare tire is more prominent then it has ever been.  It will be the last area that will slim down.  I know this.  The notion that you lose weight in certain places is not accurate.  You lose weight all around but the thinner spots look thinner faster.  So that is why my face looks thinner.  And probably my hips and waist. 

Trying on clothes this weekend was a mess.  I am resolved to the idea that I will have to continue to buy larger size for my tops then my bottoms.  I want to shop in stores that don't have plus in its title.  I really want to make that leap but not yet.  I did have a small victory.  I went in to the Tommy Hilfiger store and was able to put on a pair of their size 18s.  I could not button them but I pulled them up which was something.  It will be a while until I can wear those.

I know that this is only temporary.  My body will get where it needs to go.  I will make it.  How can I not?  There is nothing I want more then to reach this goal.  Everyday I hear from the women on my Facebook group that are inspired by little old me.  I never thought I could do that for anyone but myself.  I can't let them down but more importantly I cannot let myself down.  The feeling of defeat will pass as it always does.  I cannot let it take over my internal thoughts.  I will move on.  My body will change.  And that is a good thing.

The Possible Impossible

I wouldn’t say anything is impossible. I think that everything is possible as long as you put your mind to it and put the work and time into it.  - Michael Phelps

Sitting in the midst of my self loathing, shame, and low self esteem 6 months ago I would have told you that it would have been impossible for me to lose 60 pounds in 5 months.  I would have told you that it would impossible for me to feel better, for my knees not to hurt, and that I would never be able to walk up stairs without holding on to the handrails.  I also would have told you that it would be impossible for me to ever fit in to a wedding dress let alone look pretty in it.

All of my impossibles are being not just possible but real.  I walked up a flight of stairs without using the handrails yesterday.  It can only mean that my knees are feeling better and getting stronger.  I have a wedding dress that looks better and better every time I put it on.  I have lost 60 pounds.  I have a new definition of impossible.  It just means I need to work at it and make it my possible.

The journey goes on and every day is a new day to find my next impossible and to crush it.

The Look That Changed Everything

For a few months now I have been trying to pin point the moment that everything changed.  The moment that broke me and I decided that I needed to change my life.  My fiance' Tim says that our trip to Arkansas over Memorial Day weekend was the turning point.  Something on the plane ride home changed something in me. I have been thinking and thinking about this and then it finally hit me a few days ago.

The back story to get to this story is important.  You see my mother has two siblings.  My Aunt Angela and my Uncle Albee.  Angela is not a part of the family.  She is not someone that I want to have in my life and I am pretty sure she does not want me in hers.  I have not spoken to her in 20 years.  My Uncle on the other hand is a wonderful addition to my life. My mother practically raised him when he was younger and pretty much considered his sons grandsons.  

 My mother was a funny, bold, intelligent, and loving person.  She loved everyone but she really did not love herself.  She never took care of physical being.  She ate what she wanted and I don't ever remember her exercising.  She could walk for miles when she was feeling great but she was in pain.  Eventually she had diabetes and she died at age 56.  Only 12 years older then I am now.  When she died I know my Uncle was devastated.  I know he misses her and thinks of her all the time.

On this trip to Arkansas we went to his home and visited for a few hours.  It was this visit that changed my life.  We drove up the music store where he teaches and I got out of the car.  I saw the look on his face.  I know he did not mean to make a face and I am sure he did not even know he did it but it was there.  In a millisecond his face said it all.  I look a lot like my mother and I can only think that he saw his sister in my large, round face. And the look was a look of fear.  I did not think of it at the time but it stuck with me in my subconsciousness.  On the plane ride home, I saw the look again. To me I saw Albee see his dead sister in my obese body.  I knew on the plane I did not want to die.  I did not want my brother to miss his sister.  I can't control what will happen to me as I go through life but I can control what I eat and how much I weight.  My brother deserves to have his sister for more then just the next 12 years.  And my Uncle needs to have me around to remember the good things about his sister in my health and long life.

He won't know he saved my life until he reads this blog post.  When we see each other next at my wedding party in July, the after of the photo posted here will be a moment of love and health.  Which we both deserve and I will forever thank him for giving me a look that changed my life.

The Dreaded Tray Table

This past weekend I flew to Houston, Texas to watch my fiance give a presentation at a Toastmasters conference.  I was excited to fly.  I knew that I would not need the seat belt extender because I did not need one back in September.  I was thrilled about that.  I was hoping to reach one more milestone.

Our flight was delayed for a couple hours so we took our time getting to the airport.  We waited for our flight and we learned that it was not going to be very full.  This meant some extra space for us.  I love when there is no one in the middle seat.

Most of my adult life I have had to use someone else's tray table.  The reason was simple.  I was just too fat to put the tray table down.  It would hit my stomach and just be there at an angle.  I would rather have not put it down.  This meant that I would juggle my drink, my book or tablet and then stuff the empty glass in to the seat pocket.  It was always embarrassing.  I hated myself for being so big that I could not use my own tray table.  I would have to ask strangers to let me use the corner of thier tray. 

This time the tray table went down.  Without resting on my stomach.  I turned to my fiance and said "Look, the tray table!"  He looked at me with a strange look on his face.  I gave him that look that we all give to someone who does not know how to read our minds or understand what we are saying.  He smiled at me, "That is super."

I was beaming inside and out.  I was thrilled that the tray table went down.  I cannot wait to be able to cross my legs in an airline seat although at 5' 11" it might be hard to do but I am going to try.

So from now on I may not be willing to put the tray table in the upright position because I am so thrilled I can get it in its down position.  

The Happiness Factor

I spent some time looking through classmates blog.  I have done a couple of peer reviews for Teresa and I really found her writing interesting.  I decided on her blog for those reasons. I love the stories that people share.  It is why I am a Toastmaster.  The speeches that people give about their lives are the most interesting to me.  Angela has been keeping me interested since the first opportunity that I had to read her assignments.

The idea that sparked my interest the most was her concept of happy.  The photo of her family is a reflection of happiness for her.  This time in my life has been the most happy for me in my 44 years.  I am often worried that it won't last because life has not always been so easy and good.  I am getting married to the man I have been waiting for my whole life, I have a great job and I am making more money then I ever thought possible, I have a nice home, a great car, and I am getting healthy by losing weight and being active.  It is so great to be in this place.  I struggle with the happy factor so I am really interesting in exploring this concept with my own writing.

My blog is evolving.  I tackle all kinds of concepts in my wellness journey.  I have lost weight and it is surprising to me that here are days that I see and feel and other days that I don't which impacts my general happiness. There will be another post on this topic because it is very timely for me.  

I love the design.  The birds are great.  I want to update mine.  You might see that change too. I think the birds may be a symbol of some of things she is letting go.  Releasing herself in to the world by writing.  

Not Ashamed of Who I Was

I was asked the other day if I hated the way I looked or who I was before I lost some of my weight.  The answer is no.  I am not ashamed of who I was or what I have done in the past.

I was once described as engagingly perky.  My general disposition is I am a rather happy and upbeat person.  Actually I was once told by a boss that because I was so happy all the time that I could not be unhappy.  I was actually written up for having a bad day.  I left that job soon after that.  I am a self described cynical optimist.  Yup, there is a snarky, smarty pants side to my happy disposition.  I like the irony of life along with a attitude that everything will eventually work out.

If I look at most of the photos of me over the last few years, one thing stands out - my smile.  I had the opportunity to meet author and leadership expert John Maxwell.  He told me that I had a million watt smile and it was no wonder people followed me as I lead a volunteer organization a few years ago.  I bank on that smile and it gets me through so much.

I look at the photos of me from just 5 months ago and I know that in many ways I was very happy.  In others I was not.  I am not ashamed of the choices I made all the years that I kept those 55 pounds on.  And I hope that after I lose another 133 I will feel the same way.  I had to get to this point for a reason.  It was meant to happen now.

There is never any shame in being obese, overweight, thin, or just right. I think everyone is beautiful.  How people live their lives is totally up to them.  I decided to live another way.  I could have stayed the same and still found happiness.  It was all up to me to decide.  

Never be ashamed of who you are or what you look like.  If you want to change, great.  If you don't want to change, great. Just be happy in the decision you make and the life you live.  Being happy makes life so wonderful.

41 Point Freak Out

Many of you know that I have embraced the Weight Watchers program.  I chose to count my food as  points as I am still unsure that I know what it means to be full. The Simply Filling program scares me so I knew I needed to count everything.  Because of my height and weight and gender I get a lot of points.  I started with 56 and am now down to 48.  I can barely eat that many a day if I stay within healthy eating.  I average about 22-25 points for dinner.  I usually have a 4 point breakfast and an 8 point lunch. This seems to work for me.  I feel comfortable in those zones.  I am comfortable there and I have been losing weight so why muck with it.

Last night I had a minor freak-out about dinner.  My fiancé cooks almost all our meals.  He hates doing the dishes so when he moved in we decided that he would cook and I would clean.  Last night he told me that dinner would be a whopping 41 points.  I freaked a little.  I bad a little bit of a panic attack over it.  41 points!  I barely hit that in a day.  It bothered me so much that I barely enjoyed the chili he made.  And then like everything else in the journey, I started to think about why it affected me so much.

Before I started this journey I used food as a comfort for both the good times and the bad.  Especially the bad.  After my mother died in 2002 I started eating Nestle cookie and ice cream sandwiches every night.  Sometimes two a night.  I put on weight of course but they were so creamy and sweet.  I loved them and they loved me back until I felt bad about eating them.  I broke up with a boyfriend and moved to an apartment complex that had a convenience store a building over from me.  Every Sunday night I would go there and get 4 or 5 ice cream bars, Arizona Ice Teas and chips.  That would be my dinner sometimes as I spent many Sundays by myself.  In good times I would eat too.  It did not matter what the occasion was, I would eat.  And I would obsess about the food I would get to eat.  At parties I would get mad inside my own head about people eating the food.  Like the food was just for me and how dare they it or get the last of it.  I ate to kill the little girl inside who still wanted her mother to be alive, who wanted her father to stay, who wanted her mean grandmother just to tell her she was pretty instead of the ugly names she called her.  I covered that little girl up in layers and layers of fat.  Damaged does not begin to cover the definition of who I was as I stuffed my face and overate almost all of my adult life.  And now I am worried I am obsessing in the other way. 

What I mean by this is I am worried that I am so anxious about staying within my points.  I am creating anxiety around being right on target and not going over that any dip in to the bonus points (49 a week) is a moment of anxiety that I will immediately put on the 52 pounds that I just lost.  I don’t like weeks that I maintain or gain.  They make me mad and frustrated.  I am trying not to beat myself up over minor setbacks.  I know intellectually that I will get through it and that I will lose weight but that little girl inside me wants to be better and prettier then she was told she was.

I have to remember that in addition to losing the weight, I am also fixing the pain and the reasons why I eat.  I will have moments that are anxiety ridden and I have to find ways to make sure that I don’t turn the anxiety in a direction that makes losing the weight as stressful as it was putting it on. Because until last night I have had minimal stress about what is happening.  In fact it has been the opposite.  I have loved the changes.  I love the smaller clothes.  I love how my face looks and how I feel.  Time to let it go and relax.  Take each moment at a time.  And love the changes happening to me.

Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me I Looked Like This?!

The picture on the left was taken in March, the photo on the right was taken this morning.  I cannot believe how big my face was at 367 pounds and how much thinner I look at 315.  

I totally believe that my friends never said a word to me. We don't normally tell our loved ones they are fat or dangerously fat.  I was dangerously fat and I knew it but I was living in my fantasy world that everything would be ok and that I looked good.  I seriously thought that I looked good.  But it was a lie.  I was in pain. My knees hurt, I sleep with a CPAP machine, and I was not enjoying the really great things in life.  One of the most telling events was a trip to the theater to see Les Miserables.  I love that musical.  Seen it a dozen times.  The theater seats were so small for me that I was in physical pain from being crammed in to the seeat.  On the way home I thought I would not be able to do that again.  I realized that the seats did not need to change, the size of my ass needed to change.  And so I am.

One of the things that we are taught as children, especially those of us who grew up in the self esteem movement, is that we need to love ourselves and accept people as they are.  I have tried to live that mantra my whole like.  Who am I to judge who you love, how you dress, what color your hair is, and to do the same for myself.  I am wondering as I look at the photo on the left, is that the best approach?  Should we not, as loved ones of someone, say something?  Should we continue to tell people that are clearly obese, like I am, that they look great and they are beautiful.  I have talked about this before but clearly it is sticking with me.

I recently saw a statement that said "Real women have curves."  I understand the intent.  It is let all of us that are not what I will call the professional model standard that we are just as beautiful.  And we are but are we healthy and well?  Are we doing a disservice to keep telling those of us that are morbidly obese that we look fabulous when the truth is we are slowing killing ourselves?

I want my message to be one of wellness.  Whatever that means to you.  But I don't know if I can keep up the facade of everything being ok. I wonder if I have to the guts to tell someone I love that I am worried about them and their health.  I KNOW how hard this is.  There are so many unknowns.  We would rather be in the pain we know then to think about a pain we don't know.  It is why we stay fat, stay in jobs we hate, stay in relationships with people we don't love anymore.  The fear of the unknown is frightening.  I get it.  I worry about what my body will look like, how people will treat me, how I will be in the world but I can't take the way I felt in June. 

I don't know if I would have heard the person telling me they were worried about me.  But I want to be brave enough to tell someone I love them first and tell them second I am worried about them.  And that they can change their lives.  And then let it go.

I TOOK OFF MY BRA TO MAKE IT

I stood on the scale.  It has never been one of those things that I look forward to before June 1, 2014.  In fact I would have rather stuck a hot poker in my eye then step on a scale.  It really was torture for me.  I have lost weight before but I have never made the commitment to weigh in every week.  Just was not going to happen.

But things have changed.  Despite some ups and downs (literally) I look forward to going to my Weight Watchers meetings on Saturday morning.  Truthfully I like the people there.  They inspire me and they keep me honest with myself.  There is no faking it there.  It is all real.  And this past Saturday was real.

I was within 5.4 pounds of losing 50 pounds.  The three weeks before I had a 2.8 gain, a 1.4 loss, and then a 1 pound gain.  I was ticked off.  I was angry, frustrated, and fed up.  I wasn’t going to stop but I was a pissed off fat chick for sure.  I had started going to the gym and working out.  I thought that would get me going and that the weight would just start to melt off.  Then I was reminded that going to the gym gives you better cardio health and not necessarily weight loss.  It really is about the food which is 80% of the battle.  We had been going out to eat on Fridays a lot in the last 3 weeks and now I know that eating big on Friday can really screw me up.  So no more indulging on Friday.  Saturday is still on program but we may get frozen yogurt on that night as a treat and then spend the rest of the week keeping to program.

So when stepped on the scale I was fully prepared for a gain or maintenance if I was lucky.  Instead the scale said 318.  I needed to be at 317.6.  I got off, took my bra off and got back on the scale.  317.6!  I had made the goal.  I was so excited.  If I could weigh in naked I would and it would probably have been less.  Naked is frowned upon at the meetings though.  Darn it!

I cannot believe that I made that goal in 20 weeks.  It feels great.  My goal was to lose 80 pounds by the time I took my wedding dress to the seamstress for alterations.  That will be April 4, 2015. I really want that number to be 100. I think I can do it.  It will be 2 pounds a week for the next 25 weeks.  Totally within my realm of control.  I will hit the gym a couple times this week and just be super diligent about food.  Although there are points to use, I don’t want to use them on bread or potatoes anymore.  I need to be mindful of my fruit and make sure that I am not loading up on sugar.

More milestones will follow. For now I am going to enjoy this one.  I HAVE LOST 50 POUNDS!

The Five Day Challenge

Exercise is the hardest for me.  I really feel like I have got the food thing down. I am counting my points, eating healthier, and making sure that I stay away from the trigger foods.  I am really doing great and feel positive about the way things are going. What I struggle with a lot is getting the gym.  I really don't like it but I know that while the pool is closed until next May I need to find a way to exercise.  And the gym is it.

I have challenged myself to get to the gym 5 times every week.  I am going to count those times every week here on my blog and on my Facebook page The Shrinking Rose. It is probably the only way that I am going to get my butt to the gym. I have to find some motivation to get there and being accountable.  I think that I don't like it because I spend a lot of time in the gym in high school.  I was a competitive shot

putter so I was in the gym most days in the gym lifting weights.  It got old and I have not been able to find the spot in brain that makes it enjoyable.  I know my fiance is doing better at this then I am.  So I made it impossible for me not to do it.  I have to get there.  If I want to reach my goal, I have to find that sweet spot.

Day one and two are down.  I will be going to the gym early today since I get to work at home today. Tomorrow my gym bag will be packed and put in the trunk and off to the gym I will go when work is done.  Thursday means a deviation as I am going to dinner with family but I will get there on Friday with Tim.  It will be great to go there with him.

For me 5 days is no longer a nice to have but now a need to have. Changing my life one pound at a time.

Saving Rosie

Food.  We cannot live without it.  It is the fuel that makes our bodies move, our brains think, and our organs work.  But for some, including me, food is an addiction.  One that I am trying to recover from. My program is about staying within a prescribed number of points through Weight Watchers.  It is working for me as I am losing weight but more importantly I am eating better and healthier.  I have added in lean meats, fruits, veggies, and whole grains.  I still have some food that was in the past hard for me to control but I have a set limit of what I can consume.  It keeps me on track.

Healing myself is an important part of this journey.  I realized today that I am really working on healing the little girl still living inside me.  It has been more mental at times than physical.  I am doing great with the food, I am still working on the emotions.

When I was 4 I had my tonsils out.  Until then I was a slim little girl.  Then for some reason I began to eat.  A lot.  I remember the day I binged for the first time.  My father's mother lived with us.  She was not a nice person.  She was by no means a warm and fuzzy grandmother.  Her name was Bea.  We called her Gramma Bea.  She loved me in some way but I also annoyed her and she really did not like me.  She was home all day so she would bake 100's of cookies.  I mean 100's and then she would hide them.  I would walk in to the house after school, smell the cookies, ask for one, and be told I was too fat to have one.  Nice one Bea.  She hid them in her room in the biggest Tupperware bowl on the planet.  One day, when my parents were out with Bea, my brother and I found the bowl.  We ate cookies for hours.  We binged on them. There was no purging but I binged on those cookies.  I could not wait to do it again.  I would show her.  The binging would happen many times over the years.

One of the biggest reasons I ate was because I was lonely.  I had friends but I have always felt as if I had to be the one to call or make plans.  I once waited for one of my many friends to call me, it took two weeks before someone called.  I was popular but I was lonely.  My mother worked 3 jobs so she wasn't home, the only thing to do was to eat and watch TV.  I was sad a lot.  I also missed my father.  We lived on opposite sides of the country and felt abandoned by him even before the divorce.  We have repaired our relationship but it was hard not having him around.

I got married, got sick, got fatter and pretty much stayed within the same 50-60 pounds the rest of my life until now.  I must have realized that this was no way to live anymore.  I have had moments in the last 4 months where I really wanted to eat a pint of ice cream, or an entire container of french onion dip and a bag of chips.  But I haven't.  I lost my job and I did not eat over it.  I had a car accident and I did not eat over it.  I know what all that tastes like, I don't know what my goal weight feels like.  

The best part is Rosie, is no longer alone.  Friends call me all the time.  I have an amazing partner in this and in life.  The little girl sticks her head around the corner now and then.  I greet her.  I tell her I love her.  I hold her close to me and I heal the pain and take away the need.  It really is about healing Rosie.  And making Rose a whole lot better.

Getting on the Bike/Elliptical Again

I have not stepped in to a gym in a very long time.  It has been over a year since I walked in to a gym. I tried to get on the wellness bandwagon a year ago after learning that I needed a CPAP machine to sleep at night.  I lasted about 4 weeks.  I hurt my knee and then my orthopedic doctor told me not to workout on machines until I lost 50 pounds.  I never lost the 50 pounds.  So no working out.

This time around I started with weight loss.  Since I am down almost 50 pounds I got the go ahead to use fitness machines.  Last week we joined the gym near our house.  We started on the stationary bike and then moved to a 3o minute circuit training.  Probably should not have been so gung ho.  I was sore and my muscles did not like me.  It felt great but I realized I needed to pace myself more.  This is not a race.  It is a journey.  I will be losing this weight and laying the foundation for this life change for the next 2 years.  No need to rush.

Yesterday we went back to the gym. This time I did 20 minutes on a stationary bike, 15 minutes on the elliptical machines and another 15 minutes on a different stationary bike.  Today I feel awesome.  It was hard to do the elliptical and it seriously kicked my butt (which is the point).  My knees don't hurt.  I am not sure.  This is great.

I am so happy I got back on the bike.  It is going to change so much for me.  I cannot wait to look back and think about how far I have come.

What is Weight Loss Really About?

I was at my Weight Watchers meeting on Saturday.  It was a good day.  I had lost 2.8 pounds which brought my total loss to 47.8 pounds.  I was feeling good about being so close to 50 pounds lost.  I also got my 15 week charm.  And to top it all off my finace' reached his 10% loss goal.  Then I started to cry.

I had not planned on crying. There really wasn't anything to cry about really.  The leader was talking about a woman on the WW website who was 44 and started losing weight after discovering that her father died about the same age from the same heart condition that she had.  I thought - "I am 44.  And I decided to lose weight after it struck me that my mother was 56 when she died and that only 10 years with Tim was not going to be enough."  I started to tear up.  Not just moist eyes but real tears.

When you lose weight you are not just shedding weight you are shedding all the pain that made you put those doughnuts in your face.  I have been emotional eating all my life.  There is nothing pretty about it.  I hope to discover more about this.  What other emotions are going to come up?  Whatever they may be I am going to embrace them.  And certainly not eat about them.  My life has changed so I can have a long life.  I cry for my mom and I cry for me.  We both needed to love ourselves a lot more.

Starting to Look Like I Thought I Looked Like

When we look in the mirror what do we see?  I used to see someone who I thought looked a lot smaller than I really was.  I thought I looked good.  Oh I knew I was overweight, still am in fact, but not as big as I was when I started this journey on June 1.  It was a complete shock to me that I was 367 pounds.  It was to be perfectly honest, horrifying.  I did not know I had gotten that big and unhealthy.  Getting a CPAP machine last year, debilitating knee pain, and other health issues were not enough to make me realize I was in serious trouble. 

Yesterday, I weighed in at my Weight Watchers meeting and I was down again.  I have lost 45 pounds.  I am super excited.  When I look back at all the years that I struggled, I could not believe that I did not do this sooner.  I am not going to beat myself up over this.  I made choices.  I ate it, I own it.  Since the change in my life has started, I am happier, healthier, and stronger.  

Back to the mirror.  I am noticing the changes more now.  So are people that is very cool.  I am excited to see what I will look like in the coming months.  I think that I am starting to look like the person I thought I was.  I can't wait to not even recognize myself.

The Seat Belt Extender Dread

I boarded an airplane on Thursday. One of the reasons I am on this journey of weight loss is because on a Southwest flight from Phoenix to Little Rock, I was so miserable in my seat that I had to ask for a seat belt extender.  I have had to do this for a few years.  Why that flight?  Why that trip did it reduce me to tears?  I don’t know.  It just did.  And I am thankful I finally got to that point.  The trip on Thursday was one of both anticipation and dread.

The dread came from the fear that although I have lost 41 pounds since that trip, I would still have to use an extender.  I did not think that I would but I was afraid it may be one of those moments that I am reduced to tears again.  I have to keep telling myself that I have gone from size 24 pants to almost size 18 pants and that I was sure most of the weight had come off around my hips and butt.  I had to remind myself this is a journey.  A destination and along the way I will have bump, a flat tire, and even a breakdown.  I hade to remember that I don’t ever want to go back to where I was before June 30.  There is too much at stake.

When I thought about snapping that seat belt in to the buckle and hearing it click once not twice.  It was a glorious moment for me when I was able to not only buckle the seat belt but that there was at least 4 inches of belt to spare.  I did not cry, I just yelled out YES!!!

I had called United Airlines and their customer service representative did everything they could to find out for me the actual length of each seatbelt on each aircraft.  That was totally impressive.  The seat belts are 31 inches.  I think my hips are measuring at 52. To be on the safe side I reserved the extender.  I am determined to hand it back to the flight attendant.

I think I need to expand more on this.  Using the extender has been a source of shame and embarrassment for me as I gained weight and got heavier and heavier.  I felt like I was sub-human by many a flight attendant.  The looks and glares from other passengers was demeaning and terrible.  On several trips I have felt shamed, guilty, and embarrassed.  I had decided at one point to stop traveling all together but soon realized this was not going to happen.  I love to travel and want to do more.

Now that I have made the choice to improve my health, lose weight and be more active, travel is starting to be exciting for me again.  In the next year we will travel to Indiana, Texas, Nevada, Georgia, and Hawaii.  As the months pass, the less there is of me, the better this will be.  The extender will become just a memory.

The Ugly Truth About Body Shaming 
August 27, 2014

As I go through this process of creating a new physical manifestation of me, I am reminded of the topic of body shaming.  I was recently at the home of one my Matron’s of Honor.  She went through a big weight loss about 3 years ago and she mentioned that as she got closer to her goal weight, people kept telling her she was too thin.  Too thin?  She was not below a healthy weight for her height or frame. There just seemed to be a lot less of her then there used to be.  I have to admit that I might have been one of those people.  I am not sure but it sounds like something the old me would have said.  After I went home and thought about over the next several days, I realized I was guilty of body shaming.

When I was in high school a boy named Danny used to moo at me.  Seriously.  He would stand in the hallway and moo.  It was horrifying.  At the time was involved in shot put, I walked everywhere, and if I look back at the pictures of me then, I envy the way I looked.  Danny was just an ass. 

It was a Thursday and I was so late for class that I did something I would never normally do.  The quickest way to class was up a set of stairs that Danny and his friends would often loiter around. Sure enough he was there.  I went past him and he mooed even louder then normal.  Something snapped.  He turned his back on me and one good kick with my steel toed Doc Martens, he went flying and landed on his face.  He looked up at me, about to say something.  I just stared back and said, “Don’t you ever moo at me or anyone else ever again cause the next time it won’t be just a bloody lip.”

I turned around and headed to class.  I was pretty sure that Danny would never live it down that a girl kicked his ass.  He was not going to tell on me and he would probably have to defend his manhood against all the crap he was going to get from his friends.  I smiled the whole way to class and all the way home that afternoon.  Months later, I passed him in the hallway and he sheepishly said hi.  I was shocked.  He never mooed again.  At Prom 2 years later, he asked me to dance.  You see, in those two years we ended up friends.  

I have also been thinking about what people may say to me after I lose 80, 100, or 188 pounds.  Right now people are positive and upbeat about this process.  Most people have kept their miracle cures to themselves.  I have been successful so that may have kept them at bay.

The big question is why do we do this?  Why do we call thin attractive women skinny salad bitches?  Why do we say she’s got junk in her truck?  Why do we tell people to eat a sandwich when they are on the petite side?  Do we dress for ourselves or do we dress to impress?  Do we worry what other people think and say about us?

I am making the commitment to not only stop body shaming myself but other women no matter their size. This does not mean that I will not voice my concern if I know someone who is so extremely overweight or underweight that it is a peril to their health.  Anorexia and Morbid Obesity are diseases.  I have one of them and I would never let someone I love continue to suffer without telling them I was concerned.  I promise to not make comments about how someone looks, their size, or their dress.  Body shaming is not going to help me lose weight and it certainly will not make me feel better.  It is ugly and we need to stop.  Generations of women in the future will be happy we did.