So, I don't just overeat... I overspend and can have a tendency to get on my high horse when I feel people aren't treating me fairly. And, to be honest, one addiction is kinda feeding the other. You see, when a season would change when I was getting larger each time, I would justify large purchases of clothing as needing the new size, and if I were to track my stress, it would be during stressful IEP (work) time or holidays approaching time, or when I felt compelled to go do a family event that the new ensembles would show up in my wardrobe. I would claim I was just trying to find something that fit. Now that I have lost a few pounds, my clothing isn't strained to the limit, and things are getting a bit looser on me, but I was still in need of that new clothes smell, and I got a little spendy this past week or so.
I want to be powerful and save my money, so that I can get out of debt and save a bit to help send kid number two to college, and pay back my college loan for my Masters and maybe do one last fun family vacation before the kids get all attached and unavailable during their break times. I also kinda want Starbuck's daily or at least once weekly... and I justified the purchase of some jewelry this weekend, at the POW-WOW, claiming that the limited time of the event was motivation for the purchases...could have just gotten one thing.. bought 4 things... and when my husband was sitting in his bathrobe this morning with a furrowed brow and his computer in his lap when he was generally in the shower at 6:35 am, I realized that my spending might have gone a tad overboard, and sure enough he was borrowing from one account to cover the other, so that we could make it until Friday without overdrafting...
And the guilt. In my logical mind, the guilt is noticed as an event, but it doesn't stick as I have power over the choices I make in this moment but the stuff I did already or the stuff I have yet to do is kinda stuff I can't control. So logically, I laugh at the limit in my space... HaHa. But realistically, I am tortured. I spoke with my husband, at first humbly, where I acknowledged my lack of discretion, and then I immediately went to things he did to cause my choices... He did this or that, and next time lets try this other thing.
Blame is kinda the partner for guilt. I have a challenge to grow in other aspects of my professional life, and at first things that were said made me mad, and then they made me sad. I have been fussing about these things and feeling put upon for about three or four weeks. I have turned over in my mind the things that I heard, and have turned the argument towards the vile betrayer who is dealing with his or her own grief and blame, and the cycle is just redundant. And stupid.
So, when I feel unfairly treated, I get real generous with myself. I try to do something that will have a long term gratification, but sometimes I give so much to myself, that the bank objects and the over draft fees pile up. This is never my goal, but is sometimes my outcome. So, money stress can send me to the feeding post, or the feelings of stress can send me to spend more money and throwing money after money is just kinda dumb.
The native woman at the POW-WOW this weekend said the answer is love. Love the person who challenges you at work. Love the people who you live with. Love the weather and the people who are changing or staying the same. Love, Love, Love, Love, Love, all the time, everywhere... this is her idea of nirvana. She felt it was the best advice she could give me with my new turquoise drop earrings I was buying.
I sent an email to a woman friend of mine. I was a bit righteous. I had been wronged and I needed her to know her part in it. I tried to be as neutral as possible, but I know that I really did want her to see things my way. I wanted to be all about the clear communication, and felt I was the better friend for letting her know what was what... than the other folks who bitched about her, and then to her face treated her friendly. I wanted to let her know she didn't have to change to suit me, but if she wanted my friendship, she need only ask and respect my boundaries. So, I read and re-read the email. It was the end of a long week, and I was stressed out from the challenges that my job manifested in the week, and I wanted to feel powerful about something. This was something that I could check off of my mental to-do list. Done. Sent. Whew.
I lasted about an hour in my warm glow of power. I was strong and capable. I was creating truth and being honest. I was being loving, but not a doormat. Then, on a dime, my power became different. Oh, no... what if I was just an indignant victim, punishing her for the hard week I had gone through. I began to second guess my rights and my responsibilities. Then, on Saturday, that is when I spent.
Fat covers a multitude of flaws. Like a thick blanket of snow over the top of the broken appliances and vehicles that cover my father's front yard, fat can cover up the fear and loathing that one has in their space. I am just a really nice fat person, is not always the case. I am a magnificent loser.
I am down 16 lbs. and see, here I am doubting my right for professional courtesy. I am doubting my right to be treated kindly. I am wondering if that one lady should have screamed at me. But, no. I am not someone who should be abused...and have another helping. I am one who needs to own my power and let the silly people who want to control me, sit there and wonder what the brilliance is that stands strongly before them... I want to decide to save money and then do so. I don't want to print a retraction on my goal because I get hurt, tired, sick, or annoyed. I don't want to use the challenge I have to justify the choices that I make with food or money. I want to move forward, not mark time in one hurt zone... waiting to tell my story to the next passerby.
Forgiveness is the thing. Gotta let the scared parent be scared. Gotta let the mad Bride be mad. Gotta let the unfair husband see what he is doing, and then relook at the goals and see if the actions and the destinations match up. Gotta just say, "Woops, I did it again," and then try to set it up so the pit falls aren't so pitty and fally. Say, "I sorry." and move on. Try not to buy your weight in new clothes, and try not to eat your weight in pizza. This is the wisdom of the ages.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Abandonment
My son was home, and the frolicking was magnificent. We got frozen yogurt, went to a party, ate cake, and then got junk food like Cheetos and Snickers to watch in front of a movie rental before he had to trundle back to school. But, my heart was not into the eating of the crap. I tried. I really did. I wanted to have butter from the homemade popcorn on my fingers, tempting my teeth to chip or crack as I tried to eat the very last buttery kernel. But, sadly, the food didn't do it for me. I am just not as interested in it as I was in the past.
Son went back to school, and now, dinner is not the most exciting thing on my agenda. The luster of cooking has been missing in my life for a while, but the eating, I was always down with. What will I do if eating doesn't do it for me anymore? Have I been abandoned by my comfort eating feelings of safety and relaxation?
It is an interesting concept. I would have to just get over things. Not be all justified because I had a bad day. Eat crap because I had a hard time navigating through my life. So, I would not eat to satisfy my angst. I would so love that.
My friend, Diana doesn't want to blog with me anymore. Her life is challenging and she is cutting her losses. No more gym, either. I am bummed. I changed the name of the blog from 2 women, 200 pounds 2 years, to 1 woman. 100 pounds. 1 year. but I completely understand her need to trim the fat in her life. Pun kinda intended. It is my mission to loose the weight. It is my mission to do the exercise... Molly might go with me. To exercise with her could be fun. Or maybe just be by myself.
There are all these thoughts about how you come alone into the world, and you leave it the same way. Maybe my abandonment worries are like that. People come and go out of my life, and I get to be who I am with them. Right now. I am Katy Fries, Large and Luscious. Over-weight, but alive and impish and full of love. They can take me or leave me, I really am okay either way... just want to live clean and be honest with myself and others. Those who have found me "too much", or "over-kill" are fine to take a step or two back, and either watch from the sidelines or move to a different channel.
So, food didn't comfort me today, and my grand plan of having my friend and I take this weight loss journey together is toast as well. I just have me, and my magnificent kids, cute husband and a desire to be well. My friend Diana will cheer from the side line and have her own experiences.
It is down to me, now. I will try to reaffirm my goals and make good progress with the diet and exercise. We will see how I do.
Son went back to school, and now, dinner is not the most exciting thing on my agenda. The luster of cooking has been missing in my life for a while, but the eating, I was always down with. What will I do if eating doesn't do it for me anymore? Have I been abandoned by my comfort eating feelings of safety and relaxation?
It is an interesting concept. I would have to just get over things. Not be all justified because I had a bad day. Eat crap because I had a hard time navigating through my life. So, I would not eat to satisfy my angst. I would so love that.
My friend, Diana doesn't want to blog with me anymore. Her life is challenging and she is cutting her losses. No more gym, either. I am bummed. I changed the name of the blog from 2 women, 200 pounds 2 years, to 1 woman. 100 pounds. 1 year. but I completely understand her need to trim the fat in her life. Pun kinda intended. It is my mission to loose the weight. It is my mission to do the exercise... Molly might go with me. To exercise with her could be fun. Or maybe just be by myself.
There are all these thoughts about how you come alone into the world, and you leave it the same way. Maybe my abandonment worries are like that. People come and go out of my life, and I get to be who I am with them. Right now. I am Katy Fries, Large and Luscious. Over-weight, but alive and impish and full of love. They can take me or leave me, I really am okay either way... just want to live clean and be honest with myself and others. Those who have found me "too much", or "over-kill" are fine to take a step or two back, and either watch from the sidelines or move to a different channel.
So, food didn't comfort me today, and my grand plan of having my friend and I take this weight loss journey together is toast as well. I just have me, and my magnificent kids, cute husband and a desire to be well. My friend Diana will cheer from the side line and have her own experiences.
It is down to me, now. I will try to reaffirm my goals and make good progress with the diet and exercise. We will see how I do.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Ownership and Blame
I have been looking at who is responsible for my flabby stomach, flippy- floppy Aunt Matilda upper arms, and multiple chins. I know it is me. I put the food in my mouth. I allowed the food to calm my nerves. I allowed the bad habits and lethargy to become status quo. Annie's mailbox today had some tragic tale of a Mom who suddenly found herself blamed for her adult children's self esteem and failed marriage. Annie's writers said, "Some children never mature sufficiently to take responsibility for their own lives. It is easier to blame Mom or Dad for whatever problem or unhappiness they have." (10/7/09 Auburn Journal).
My sister-in-law was discussing her lap-band surgery success of a 40 lb. loss. She did look slimmer in face and upper arms, but she grabbed her hang-y down-y belly and said, "This is the result of a 13 lb. baby." Her 5 year old was responsible for her 'gut gone wild'. She did not feel responsible for the creation of the thing, so her next idea was to get her stomach "cut off", her boobs "reshaped" and then the devastation that child bearing had wreaked on her body could be erased through the magic of plastic surgery.
I have a surgical consult for my wrist cyst tomorrow. I am supposed to see what the doctor can do to stop this obnoxious bump from aching and swelling at random times, with no apparent cure. Helpful people have told me it is a Gideon's bump... and needs to be whacked soundly with a bible or heavy book. I have 4 or 5 times now let my family go at me with a giant tome. Harry Potter's final book was the last book that my husband and daughter whacked me with. Hurt, but I still have the bump... I think that they held back. But surgery scares me a bit. The what-if factor of nerves being involved worries me, and I kinda want to go to the acupuncturist and the herbal gal and maybe see if a liver cleanse is what I really need. Right side of the body, wrist, shoulder and knee are all liver related, and they all hurt, and maybe if I drank olive oil and lemon juice, the bile ducts in my liver would spew forth thousands of crystalized "stones", since my gall bladder isn't around to handle them anymore... they might just be clogging up the works, so I could have this blockage in my chi and that could be the reason I gots pain.
So, I admit that I am a little nervous about surgery. I have been messed with about 4 times. Wisdom teeth... that went okay when I was 19. There was the ovarian cyst when I was pregnant with Molly. (Really pretty scar from that.) Gall bladder went away right after we moved in here to Auburn house, and I was taking care of my mother and the one I am most glad I got, was the TVP... This cinched up my uterus so it didn't squash my bladder and make me pee down my leg. (This was my favorite of the 4). The cyst and gallbladder were both emergency-ish and the doctor's told me that the surgery was very much my only option. The TVP was one that made sense, as the peeing prevented me from exercise and smelling like urine for 16 years was not as much fun as it sounds. I do not regret that one in the slightest... Though I wonder at the cyst... was it an ectopic twin for Molly? Could I have done a cleanse and repaired my gall bladder, as it seems to be an organ that actually does a pretty important job for the body?
I weighed this morning and I was 276. That is down 14 pounds from my starting point of 290 lbs. I chose whether to exercise or put food in my mouth, and that is why I was able to make that change. My 501 jeans are still tight and my midsection still overhangs the waistband when I sit down, so I have more work to do before I can even wear last year's jeans comfortably. When I think about the food diary assignment that most weight loss programs suggest, I think about the accountability factor that it provides. It prevents one from saying, "I have no idea why I haven't lost any weight," because it is simply a math problem for them to figure out the numbers of calories needed to run a body for a day, and the number of calories that they take into the body. Put more in than you need, and you aren't going to see reducing results. Just Basic Math.
The way I am looking at the food is quality, and a gentle shifting. Add a fruit or veggie into the mix. See if I can cook something ahead of time to just pop in the microwave for breakfast. This is as much as I have done at this point about the food I put into my body. And my results are a 14 pound loss. If I were actually following a reduction plan, I might be looking at a greater loss, but right now, I am happy with 14 lbs. over the past 6 weeks. That is a little bit over 2 pounds per week on average.
I created the shape of this body. I can only thank or blame myself. I have a habit of eating to comfort myself. I have been uncomfortable a great deal in the last 15 years. This is neither new news or unique. Some folks turn towards a hobby, some towards exercise, some towards an addiction. My sin against health has been food. I own the size I am, and feel like I can decide that I want to make myself smaller. As my friend, Diana curls up in the fetal position on her bed today, as the world has overwhelmed her, I will attempt to shove myself into a jog bra and get my flippy-floppy Aunt Matilda arms off to the gym. I am a creator, and I want to make something different than a body that is 100+pounds overweight.
My sister-in-law was discussing her lap-band surgery success of a 40 lb. loss. She did look slimmer in face and upper arms, but she grabbed her hang-y down-y belly and said, "This is the result of a 13 lb. baby." Her 5 year old was responsible for her 'gut gone wild'. She did not feel responsible for the creation of the thing, so her next idea was to get her stomach "cut off", her boobs "reshaped" and then the devastation that child bearing had wreaked on her body could be erased through the magic of plastic surgery.
I have a surgical consult for my wrist cyst tomorrow. I am supposed to see what the doctor can do to stop this obnoxious bump from aching and swelling at random times, with no apparent cure. Helpful people have told me it is a Gideon's bump... and needs to be whacked soundly with a bible or heavy book. I have 4 or 5 times now let my family go at me with a giant tome. Harry Potter's final book was the last book that my husband and daughter whacked me with. Hurt, but I still have the bump... I think that they held back. But surgery scares me a bit. The what-if factor of nerves being involved worries me, and I kinda want to go to the acupuncturist and the herbal gal and maybe see if a liver cleanse is what I really need. Right side of the body, wrist, shoulder and knee are all liver related, and they all hurt, and maybe if I drank olive oil and lemon juice, the bile ducts in my liver would spew forth thousands of crystalized "stones", since my gall bladder isn't around to handle them anymore... they might just be clogging up the works, so I could have this blockage in my chi and that could be the reason I gots pain.
So, I admit that I am a little nervous about surgery. I have been messed with about 4 times. Wisdom teeth... that went okay when I was 19. There was the ovarian cyst when I was pregnant with Molly. (Really pretty scar from that.) Gall bladder went away right after we moved in here to Auburn house, and I was taking care of my mother and the one I am most glad I got, was the TVP... This cinched up my uterus so it didn't squash my bladder and make me pee down my leg. (This was my favorite of the 4). The cyst and gallbladder were both emergency-ish and the doctor's told me that the surgery was very much my only option. The TVP was one that made sense, as the peeing prevented me from exercise and smelling like urine for 16 years was not as much fun as it sounds. I do not regret that one in the slightest... Though I wonder at the cyst... was it an ectopic twin for Molly? Could I have done a cleanse and repaired my gall bladder, as it seems to be an organ that actually does a pretty important job for the body?
I weighed this morning and I was 276. That is down 14 pounds from my starting point of 290 lbs. I chose whether to exercise or put food in my mouth, and that is why I was able to make that change. My 501 jeans are still tight and my midsection still overhangs the waistband when I sit down, so I have more work to do before I can even wear last year's jeans comfortably. When I think about the food diary assignment that most weight loss programs suggest, I think about the accountability factor that it provides. It prevents one from saying, "I have no idea why I haven't lost any weight," because it is simply a math problem for them to figure out the numbers of calories needed to run a body for a day, and the number of calories that they take into the body. Put more in than you need, and you aren't going to see reducing results. Just Basic Math.
The way I am looking at the food is quality, and a gentle shifting. Add a fruit or veggie into the mix. See if I can cook something ahead of time to just pop in the microwave for breakfast. This is as much as I have done at this point about the food I put into my body. And my results are a 14 pound loss. If I were actually following a reduction plan, I might be looking at a greater loss, but right now, I am happy with 14 lbs. over the past 6 weeks. That is a little bit over 2 pounds per week on average.
I created the shape of this body. I can only thank or blame myself. I have a habit of eating to comfort myself. I have been uncomfortable a great deal in the last 15 years. This is neither new news or unique. Some folks turn towards a hobby, some towards exercise, some towards an addiction. My sin against health has been food. I own the size I am, and feel like I can decide that I want to make myself smaller. As my friend, Diana curls up in the fetal position on her bed today, as the world has overwhelmed her, I will attempt to shove myself into a jog bra and get my flippy-floppy Aunt Matilda arms off to the gym. I am a creator, and I want to make something different than a body that is 100+pounds overweight.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Slow and Steady... wins the race?
In the attempts to change my body, I have to change my life. Getting back to work since mid August has really just knocked the stuffing right out of me, and adding exercise and just a smidge of diet awareness has been profitable, as I weighed 282 this morning, and my regular schedule now includes exercise on the to do list... and I have to take it off the list and maybe feel a bit guilty if I am not exercising at least 3 times per week. But, I saw a picture of my sister on facebook, and I didn't think immediately, "Wow, doesn't she look like she is taking good healthy care of herself?" and admire the little heart shaped face with the one little pointed and imp like chin... I immediately jumped to the, "She has had some work done...." conclusion. Then, all the virtuous reasons why I choose not to have some kind of surgical intervention came swirling to the surface and instead of just being happy for my one chinned sister, I am spiteful and accusing.
It is kinda interesting that Diana is exploring that route, and here I sit on top of my 120 (112 now) pound mountain, feeling all virtuous that I want to "do it the 'healthy' way". Yet I am longing for the one chin, the cute clothes and the slim profile. Two years seems like an incredible amount of time, and so far, in the weeks I have been working, I am a bit ahead of the "loose one pound per week" schedule.... But, getting there seems the destination.
This is something I have thought about a lot. Is it the journey or the destination? I used to sleep in the car on long trips. My husband would be disgusted with me missing all the pretty sites... but I always had the attitude of "Wake me up when we get there." That has changed over the years. I want to see the pretty, be present in the moment and generally allow for the "Chop wood, carry water" before enlightenment and after enlightenment, "Chop wood, carry water" philosophy. But quick fixes have an undeniable draw... In six weeks I could recover from a surgery.... then let the melting begin... the no-effort pretty-ifcation.
I worked out today... I saw that I was there sweating and red faced in the mirror, but I felt good to be sweaty and red faced. I kinda used my sister and the idea that she might have taken the easy route.. (which I need to here state, I have no evidence of.... this is just where my competitive sister mind went, because she has not really been in my life for about 5-7 years, so I can't say what she has been doing with her spare time.... Perhaps she got all sweaty and red-faced in her own mirror). I have to say, I used it... When I thought of her, going under a knife to rid herself of excess chin, or the pulling back of the wrinkles... I pushed myself harder.... I do want to loose this weight on my own, because I gained it on my own, and I feel that the loosing and the gaining makes me a creator, not a victim...
To Diana's journey, I give many nods of respect. Diana has been hot. She has been attractive. She wants to get back to something that is familiar and known. Her situation is much different than mine, and she has different motivators to get her towards health. I respect that she knows what is best for herself, her life and her family. I am interested to see how her journey unfolds and how she makes the choices that get her towards health.
To my own journey, I am exploratory. My body rebelled two weeks ago and kinda refused to help me out in the exercise arena... Maybe a little bit of a tantrum... from lethargy to activity, I suppose a body has a right to throw a bit of a hissy fit. So, now that the exercise feels good again, and I have this image of working hard to achieve my goal, I think I will keep working at the big picture, even if it takes two stinking years to get there... Because, it isn't as though the things that were in my life at the time I gained the weight are all resolved, and it will take some time to untangle the motivation to be 120 lbs. overweight...
So, like the turtle, I must soldier on... keep going as well as I can, in kinda a humpty, dumpty, dumpty, dumpty pace, headed there, focused on the target, and just keep on, keeping on. I guess I have to honor my body's tantrums. They stop after a while, and then I can get back on that eliptical...( The treadmill hurts my knee).. so on I go...
It is kinda interesting that Diana is exploring that route, and here I sit on top of my 120 (112 now) pound mountain, feeling all virtuous that I want to "do it the 'healthy' way". Yet I am longing for the one chin, the cute clothes and the slim profile. Two years seems like an incredible amount of time, and so far, in the weeks I have been working, I am a bit ahead of the "loose one pound per week" schedule.... But, getting there seems the destination.
This is something I have thought about a lot. Is it the journey or the destination? I used to sleep in the car on long trips. My husband would be disgusted with me missing all the pretty sites... but I always had the attitude of "Wake me up when we get there." That has changed over the years. I want to see the pretty, be present in the moment and generally allow for the "Chop wood, carry water" before enlightenment and after enlightenment, "Chop wood, carry water" philosophy. But quick fixes have an undeniable draw... In six weeks I could recover from a surgery.... then let the melting begin... the no-effort pretty-ifcation.
I worked out today... I saw that I was there sweating and red faced in the mirror, but I felt good to be sweaty and red faced. I kinda used my sister and the idea that she might have taken the easy route.. (which I need to here state, I have no evidence of.... this is just where my competitive sister mind went, because she has not really been in my life for about 5-7 years, so I can't say what she has been doing with her spare time.... Perhaps she got all sweaty and red-faced in her own mirror). I have to say, I used it... When I thought of her, going under a knife to rid herself of excess chin, or the pulling back of the wrinkles... I pushed myself harder.... I do want to loose this weight on my own, because I gained it on my own, and I feel that the loosing and the gaining makes me a creator, not a victim...
To Diana's journey, I give many nods of respect. Diana has been hot. She has been attractive. She wants to get back to something that is familiar and known. Her situation is much different than mine, and she has different motivators to get her towards health. I respect that she knows what is best for herself, her life and her family. I am interested to see how her journey unfolds and how she makes the choices that get her towards health.
To my own journey, I am exploratory. My body rebelled two weeks ago and kinda refused to help me out in the exercise arena... Maybe a little bit of a tantrum... from lethargy to activity, I suppose a body has a right to throw a bit of a hissy fit. So, now that the exercise feels good again, and I have this image of working hard to achieve my goal, I think I will keep working at the big picture, even if it takes two stinking years to get there... Because, it isn't as though the things that were in my life at the time I gained the weight are all resolved, and it will take some time to untangle the motivation to be 120 lbs. overweight...
So, like the turtle, I must soldier on... keep going as well as I can, in kinda a humpty, dumpty, dumpty, dumpty pace, headed there, focused on the target, and just keep on, keeping on. I guess I have to honor my body's tantrums. They stop after a while, and then I can get back on that eliptical...( The treadmill hurts my knee).. so on I go...
Sunday, September 13, 2009
All Behavior Is Communication.
As I watch myself taking food into my body, and feel the somewhat desperate and furtive edge to my trolling the fridge and counters at 10:00 pm, I am wondering what I am trying to communicate. I had a good day yesterday. Exercised (though not with a ton of enthusiasm), went out on errands with hubby and daughter, came home and made jewelry... a nice day all around, but then I am hit with this feeling of starvation, and even taking my old hips up from the place I am sitting on the floor working on jewelry seems doable, as I search for something that will satisfy the 10:00 pm hungries.
I used to attribute my eating to my husband, I saw a connection between some sliding comment and my feelings of inadequacy, and justify that I needed the comfort and the food was a good filler for what ailed me. But, as I review my day yesterday, I didn't have any snarky commentary to fend off, deal with or otherwise manage. I just had a pleasant day. But I went trolling anyway once the clock struck ten and I was not in bed yet... I was really starvin' Marvin!
So, I understand addiction enough to know that the desired item can override common sense, education, and self restraint. If the thing I want is food, then I will find a way to justify the food. If the thing I want is to feel filled up because I feel empty, then I will do much to get that full feeling. I am trying to watch myself and see what I am on about. How does that handful of lunchmeat at 10:00, and then again at 10:15 and maybe at 10:30 really get me through something. Cause I feel like I am going to die unless I get it,or something like it to fill the void.
What is this void, and what is it about? I think I have to get to the root of that and figure out what I am feeding. What am I doing when I eat when I know my body is adequately fed and done digesting for the night? Logic seems to be out the window, and I am in a more primal place of survival. I need to think about what is going on for me when I reach for the fridge after 8pm. Maybe journal a bit, or paint a picture, or have a glass of water... But, even if I do find a replacement behavior, there is certainly something I hunger for. Something that I am not getting in the course of my day in terms of spiritual, mental, bodily, or kinetic nutrition. I will continue to watch and try to learn what that might be.
I used to attribute my eating to my husband, I saw a connection between some sliding comment and my feelings of inadequacy, and justify that I needed the comfort and the food was a good filler for what ailed me. But, as I review my day yesterday, I didn't have any snarky commentary to fend off, deal with or otherwise manage. I just had a pleasant day. But I went trolling anyway once the clock struck ten and I was not in bed yet... I was really starvin' Marvin!
So, I understand addiction enough to know that the desired item can override common sense, education, and self restraint. If the thing I want is food, then I will find a way to justify the food. If the thing I want is to feel filled up because I feel empty, then I will do much to get that full feeling. I am trying to watch myself and see what I am on about. How does that handful of lunchmeat at 10:00, and then again at 10:15 and maybe at 10:30 really get me through something. Cause I feel like I am going to die unless I get it,or something like it to fill the void.
What is this void, and what is it about? I think I have to get to the root of that and figure out what I am feeding. What am I doing when I eat when I know my body is adequately fed and done digesting for the night? Logic seems to be out the window, and I am in a more primal place of survival. I need to think about what is going on for me when I reach for the fridge after 8pm. Maybe journal a bit, or paint a picture, or have a glass of water... But, even if I do find a replacement behavior, there is certainly something I hunger for. Something that I am not getting in the course of my day in terms of spiritual, mental, bodily, or kinetic nutrition. I will continue to watch and try to learn what that might be.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Who's afraid of the big bad scale?
I took a chance and weighed on Wednesday, and based on how my clothes were fitting I was not fearing the worst... 288... up a pound from last week... So, not as tragic as I had feared. The getting back on the wagon, and getting back to exercise is not happening for me, though. With the swine flu affecting so many people, and me working with disabled kids who don't always practice the best snot management, when I get a tickle in my throat, I fear the worst. But, I think I am having a season transition. It is fall-like weather, with a little 103 degree temperature mixed in. And my body might be a little slow to make this change. I thought I was over tired from the exercise and the running so hard and fast to get school up and going, and my classroom functional, but I could just be experiencing malaise due to the shift in the weather. And there is change at home. So, I will endeavor to keep up the good work, and get back to exercise this weekend. Just kinda needed a week off.... I have to pace this like a marathon, not a sprint... and I am usually someone who likes to hit the ground running and be all diligent. The work I need to do has more to do with patience and observation of my food actions and exercise reactions rather than a will of steel.... I am committed to taking the time it takes. My doctor said. "One pound a week." So far I have exceeded that, and then hit a bit of a speed bump... and now I am a bit under my goal. Portions and eating prior to 7pm seem to still be the place I am hitched up on. I believe I can do this.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
The wagon....
My kid was home this weekend from college. I have just a lot of emotional stuff, I ate stupid and now I am afraid of the scale. I fear the measuring tape and I don't want to see failure, but growth. I will go back and exercise tomorrow... then weigh in a couple of days. Just a speed bump in the world tour... Diana had success, which is good. I slept and slept this weekend. Body and mind tired. This getting back into shape is tricky. I am back on my game tomorrow.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Week Two...
Monday's are our "weigh-in" day, so despite going to a family reunion on Saturday and then yesterday having company for dinner, I managed to lose 2 pounds. Last night we BBQ'd ribs, had corn on the cob and I made a wonderful veggie salad with spinach, red bell, green onion, red cabbage, broccoli, avocado, and pine nuts. I would have normally served a "starch" like potatoes and/or bread, but I skipped that altogether and just had the meat and the veggies and guess what? No one noticed! I did, however, make a pear tartin with puff pastry, sugar, and butter, and served it with ice cream...but I figured since we skipped the bread/potato thing, the dessert thing wasn't so bad. Baby steps.
I made it to my monthly "weight loss" doctor visit on Friday (for the insurance to approve my weight loss surgery, remember?). If you read my "saga", you would know that I went faithfully for three consecutive months: May, June, July, losing weight as I went, then I had a malfunction and gained...and skipped one appointment, for August. That was when Katy decided she wanted to do the gym thing and signed me up on her membership, so her timing was perfect...RIGHT when I was falling of the wagon, she dragged me back on.
So, fortified by the new exercise regimen and having seen with my own eyes at the dental office where I work a beautiful woman who is a successful gastric bypass recipient, I rescheduled my missed weight loss appointment with the physician's assistant, Maria. She berated me for gaining and skipping. She said it will affect the package of information they submit to the insurance for weight loss surgery approval. She questioned if I have what it takes to change my eating habits for life. But I did lose weight each prior month, starting in May, I told her. So I must show a significant loss between now and my October visit, and hopefully I will be back in good graces with Maria AND the insurance.
If you recall, one hoop to jump through is to see a dietician, which I have done. Another hoop is to see a psychologist who will evaluatae my mental state and decide if I am a good candidate for this surgery and all it entails. I already saw one, but evidently it was the wrong doctor; they want me to see a certain doctor. Just found this out at my appointment Friday. At the beginning of this process, my doctor's office didn't quite have their act together I guess. They just said I have to see a psychologist; I self-referred and picked my own and went. The first week. I was gung ho. So now I need to go again, to a different one, fine. The referral desk will get me approved to see "Dr. Hendrikson", call me, and I will get that scheduled ASAP.
Also, Maria had originally told me that 40 pounds was the required amount to lose on my own to get approved for the surgery, a number she seemed to pluck out of the air. I questioned her about this on Friday and asked what is the exact formula imposed by my insurance to come up with that number, and she admitted she was not sure, that she would look into it. So, I will find that out at my next monthly check-in with her in October. I am hoping it is something closer to 20 or 25. Then I can get this surgery sooner rather than later.
This insurance process seems vague, or it might just be that my particular doctor's office doesn't quite have the system down...but I will be the squeaky wheel to make it happen. Between now and my next monthly check-in, I will get the referral for the CORRECT psych to see, and Maria will find out for me the EXACT number of pounds lost needed to get approved by the insurance...and in the meantime, I will exercise with Katy and try to lose a couple of pounds a week.
I made it to my monthly "weight loss" doctor visit on Friday (for the insurance to approve my weight loss surgery, remember?). If you read my "saga", you would know that I went faithfully for three consecutive months: May, June, July, losing weight as I went, then I had a malfunction and gained...and skipped one appointment, for August. That was when Katy decided she wanted to do the gym thing and signed me up on her membership, so her timing was perfect...RIGHT when I was falling of the wagon, she dragged me back on.
So, fortified by the new exercise regimen and having seen with my own eyes at the dental office where I work a beautiful woman who is a successful gastric bypass recipient, I rescheduled my missed weight loss appointment with the physician's assistant, Maria. She berated me for gaining and skipping. She said it will affect the package of information they submit to the insurance for weight loss surgery approval. She questioned if I have what it takes to change my eating habits for life. But I did lose weight each prior month, starting in May, I told her. So I must show a significant loss between now and my October visit, and hopefully I will be back in good graces with Maria AND the insurance.
If you recall, one hoop to jump through is to see a dietician, which I have done. Another hoop is to see a psychologist who will evaluatae my mental state and decide if I am a good candidate for this surgery and all it entails. I already saw one, but evidently it was the wrong doctor; they want me to see a certain doctor. Just found this out at my appointment Friday. At the beginning of this process, my doctor's office didn't quite have their act together I guess. They just said I have to see a psychologist; I self-referred and picked my own and went. The first week. I was gung ho. So now I need to go again, to a different one, fine. The referral desk will get me approved to see "Dr. Hendrikson", call me, and I will get that scheduled ASAP.
Also, Maria had originally told me that 40 pounds was the required amount to lose on my own to get approved for the surgery, a number she seemed to pluck out of the air. I questioned her about this on Friday and asked what is the exact formula imposed by my insurance to come up with that number, and she admitted she was not sure, that she would look into it. So, I will find that out at my next monthly check-in with her in October. I am hoping it is something closer to 20 or 25. Then I can get this surgery sooner rather than later.
This insurance process seems vague, or it might just be that my particular doctor's office doesn't quite have the system down...but I will be the squeaky wheel to make it happen. Between now and my next monthly check-in, I will get the referral for the CORRECT psych to see, and Maria will find out for me the EXACT number of pounds lost needed to get approved by the insurance...and in the meantime, I will exercise with Katy and try to lose a couple of pounds a week.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
what?
So I just now noticed the little tag line you wrote for us, Katy,.....mission statement...whatever you want to call it. The white against the light blue is not much of a contrast and at first my tired post-workout eyes read, "Two middle-aged women support each other as they document their weight loss with hunger and lethargy."
Katy's Saga
I was a normal sized kid when I was 7. I was small and shy and cried easily. I was the youngest kid on the block, and the neighbor kids would try to blockade the way when I would get hurt playing on the tire swing or baseball, as they knew I would cannon ball out of the game and run screaming to my mom, and then the fun would be done, as the adults would get involved. My Mom was overweight and had one of the first gastric Bypass surgeries in about 1970, and had gotten down to a size 14, before she started to over-ride her surgery, by eating more and more and more. One of my memories from my childhood was the day that I downed 3 bowls of Cheerios in succession. I remember thinking, "Won't Mom be so proud of me." Eating that volume seemed an accomplishment. I could be like Mom. It could be something she and I could do together. Maybe, then, my sister wouldn't seem so important, and Mom would like me.
When I was 8, my ballet teacher, Nelda Honey, told me in class one day, "You are fat. Lose some weight." Apparently I ruined the aesthetic line of the serious ballet girls. My parents invested in a case of Shasta diet soda, and Aides diet candy... I was supposed to eat one of the chocolate candies with a drink of warm water prior to eating a meal. They told me that I could have a diet Shasta soda whenever I was hungry between meals. I liked the soda which had been a luxury previously, so I lost 30 pounds in just a few months, and got to some desired appropriate weight that might please my ballet teacher. The morning I achieved my goal, I smiled, knowing I could go to ballet and show Nelda all my success. When I got to class, Nelda was busy, and she had her stick in her hand that she used to keep time by pounding it on the floor during our exercises. When I got her attention, I blurted out, "Nelda, I lost the weight." She looked distractedly at me, and said with annoyance, "What?" I tried again... "Nelda, you told me to lose weight, and I lost weight." "Fine. Get back in line." She said, and as the music started she started pounding with her stick against the floor.
Mom and Dad held me as I sobbed after the lesson. They decided to honor my success, even if Nelda didn't care, so my father took me to JCPenney, to the upstairs children's department, and I found the most amazing polyester green print pant suit, and all agreed it was perfect for my coloring. I was excited to put my outfit on the sales counter, and when I did, I saw a very pretty light blue dress there, also. I got excited thinking maybe I would get two outfits. As Dad paid, he explained that the blue dress was on sale for $4.00, and it was just the right size for my sister, Laurel. Laurel hadn't gone hungry. Laurel hadn't been humiliated in ballet class. Laurel never had to worry about eating a chocolate candy and warm glass of water before a meal. It didn't seem fair.
I dieted again seriously when I was in 8th grade. There was an opportunity to get to know new people once I hit high school, and they didn't know me as the fat dufusy bookworm who had no friends. I could change my hair, change my body, and then hit the high school with my spunk and personality, and let people get to know the real me. So, I dieted with Weight Watchers along with my mom, and again lost the 40 or so pounds that I needed to get to an acceptable weight. I made my graduation deadline, but the kids who I had spent kindergarten through 8th grade with either didn't notice or weren't impressed, as my social standing in the group of 30 or so kids never upgraded. In fact, only one person agreed to come to my graduation party, as one of the other gals in my class planned her party for the same night and time, even though I had put my invitations out weeks before her.
When I went to Junior College, I was heavy again. I hadn't really planned to go to College, as that seemed my sister's plan, and I had long before decided to live my life in the exact opposition to my sister. That way, I could stand out, by being different. I never measured up to her successes as her younger sibling, so I just decided to do what she did not, and to find what I excelled at by looking at what she failed at. It wasn't a perfect system, but she had the being thin thing down, so I had to take the polar opposite route.
At any rate, as I helped friend one, two and three head off to exotic college locations, I started to regret my decision to be apathetic about education, and I enrolled at Sierra College. About half way through the year, as my sister was going through a downward spiral with her Bipolar disorder (which hadn't been diagnosed yet), my friends were inviting me to visit them at the cool dorms where they were having fun pizza gatherings, and spontaneous popcorn movie watching, and I was very much in love with the fun Kellie was having in Chico, so I started to set a goal to go to College there, for my Sophomore year, and again embraced the idea that my social life would improve if I were skinnier and people were meeting me for the first time. So Back to Weight Watchers with my Mom.
By this time, Mom was disenchanted with my sister, the bipolar teenage years made the two of them rather contentious. I was working all the time, and had a different schedule than my parents, as I worked at the Movie theater, and I started getting my meals at Burger King... the home of the pita salad. I would eat there twice a day, and have as much diet soda as I could drink, and by the time I headed off to Chico, I was 50 lbs. lighter, and ready to meet and impress Kellie's friends and make some new friends, and maybe get a boyfriend. Around this time I started to run. I found freedom in the running, and really saw results with it, so I had become a runner.
Chico was great, and I loved my independence. I ate salad bars and diet soda, from the dorm cafeteria, I ran on the track behind Kellie's dorms, and I started to be sweet on a boy or two who weren't completely adverse to my attention. I met my husband Brian in May, just right before he graduated. So, I kept my "in-shape" lifestyle, never getting too much lower than a size 14, but I was healthy and strong. When I completed my degree at Chico, I had started to drink water, instead of so much diet soda, and people asked me how I had lost the weight, but I didn't have a scale, so I just shrugged, and kept on a trucking. I was running 1/2 marathons and 10k races, and aside from a few sprained ankles and a broken foot, I was running strong.
I got married to Brian the summer after graduating from Chico, right before starting my student teaching at Sac State. Brian traveled a lot for work, and I ate those Healthy Choice meals, and it was all good and I felt strong and was still running. I got a job within weeks of finishing my student teaching, and started teaching 6th grade the following fall. That first year was hard and I just was pretty overwhelmed with how much work it was. I started eating the snack food in the teacher's room and work long hours to try to keep it up. It was very stressful, and with my husband changing jobs, I threw my energy towards that first hard year, and gained weight and stopped running very much.
I got pregnant and ballooned a bit. After having Sam, my first child, I worked hard to lose the weight in a year, as my Mom told me that I had 9 months to gain it and 9 months to lose it. So back to Weight Watchers and I lost the 60 or so pounds again. My mom started to have heart issues at this point... she weighed about 350, and after divorcing my dad, she had found love again, but her heart was just clogged, and I remember taking baby Sam to the hospital in the Bay Area in order to be with Mom while she had angioplasty and other heart re-habilitation treatments. I got pregnant with Molly, and 4 months into the pregnancy, the technician found a cyst on my ovary during a sonogram. Surgery for me, with all sorts of fear about the surgery being a life saving activity for me, and or the baby. While I was recovering from the surgery, my husband got hit by a semi truck while riding his bike. He injured his back and became somewhat useless in the care of our one year old, while I had an incision that was healing up on my belly, so I had to kind of get right back into the parenting swing while trying to take care of my family and not take care of my own healing so much. Mom had a triple bypass when Molly was just a newborn, so, each life event was compounded with lots of stress and eating comforted me.
I was a size 26 after Molly was born and Mom's operation. Work was hard, and I got a bad review from my principal. She wanted to control my burkinstock wearing and casual clothing choices. She chose to tell me a parent had written a letter anonymously to complain about some very personal choices and kind of attacked me as a human being, so I became overwhelmed by work. A new job opened up, and I grabbed it... I would be the PE teacher for a different school. I ran around with kids for 5 hours a day, believing that if I asked them to do it, I should do it as well. I dropped 70 or so pounds, and I loved my job of running around with kindergardeners through 6th graders.
One day, I remember that my Mom called me. She and my sister hadn't spoken for 7 years, so she liked me just fine now, but she was upset about a bump in her groin. The cancer was found, and diagnosed as terminal within a short time, and I decided that Brian and I would buy a house with my Mom and we could make quilts and cookies, and she would do child care for me, while I helped her go to Doctor appointments. Plans went awry, and as I started to get into this care giving mode, and I took a leave of absence from my teaching job, and became my mother's full time care giver, as well as a stay home mom. Mom was just a mess, depressed and hard to work with. I had to have my gall bladder out a few months after we moved into our house in Auburn, and after that, I started to have more weight gain. I was weighing about 190 when Mom died, and the year after her death, I took time off to try to regroup after her death.
I started my own business, a children's art school, and I worked long and hard to make the whole thing work... Again, snack food in the time of stress and long hours were a problem for me. I gained about 50 lbs. while running the art school, and was sitting at about 230 for the bulk of my time running the business. After 5 years, I kinda fell apart. I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndome, and I had to kinda abandon my business, as I could not even get out of bed to take a shower on a regular basis. All I could do was get my kids to and from school, and cook dinner. I did that for about a year, and it was the kind of thing where I kept trying to eat something that would give me energy, but digesting was exhausting, so I would fall right asleep, and then when I woke up, I would try to eat something for the energy again. I became a 260 person. Then 270. I started to lose weight a bit after I started back to work about 5 years later, and I got down to 250 when I was working 50% at the high school across the street.
About that time, my father needed some support. He was getting new knees. I started flying out to Montana where he had gone to raise his new family. When I got to his cabin in the woods, I found a very dirty space. His wife wasn't so much into housekeeping, for like 12 years, so you might imagine the levels of filth that my father was living in. I dove in and cleaned to make his living space easier for him to maneuver in, and to kind of crack the whip on his kids and wife to get the clutter out of the way as he was going to live downstairs, and there wasn't a clear path to the bathroom. So, I busted chops with them, and since I didn't trust the well water that tasted funny, I started to drink soda again, so I could soldier through the challenge of trying to be there for my dad and stay friendly with the half brother and sister and the step mom.
After his second knee surgery, Dad developed a swallowing issue. The esophageal cancer took swift action on him, and he became rather debilitated quickly. When I got my full time job teaching functional skills, special education, which was a strong learning curve for me, Dad's wife called me on the third day of school. It was time. Dad was on a ventilator. I needed to come. Now. Dad's wife got all territorial, and not only did I lose my dad, I left Montana feeling utterly orphaned.
So, during this past year, my daughter developed anxiety, and my husband shared that he had some similar issues, and my son went off to college. Eating became again a comfort for me. Exercise was not a priority. So, as I topped the scales at 295 one day, with swollen ankles, and acid relex and lethargy setting in, I decided it was time. I always thought that my weight served a purpose... to keep me safe, to balance my life in some way, and so changing it, would require the unbalanced bit to be taken care of. My sister seemed to allude that her troubles were my troubles, and that I had blocked memories of abuse and molestation. Maybe I was fat for that reason.... But when my husband's anxiety came to our attention, many of the "problems" of low self esteem and co-dependance that I have struggled with in my life have been exacerbated by my husband's anxiety condition. That seemed to be the thing that I might have been balancing. With some of my own brain damage thrown in there.
I created this body. I can create something healthier. I can love myself enough to live well and eat healthy. I can look at how the food comforts me, and how my body responds to food, and I am trying to add little 20 minute power naps to my day so that I can rest when I am over taxed. I have encouraged Husband and daughter to take ownership of their anxiety, and they are supported with classes and medication for the last few weeks now. So, there is less stress in my home. Heck, my sister even got back in touch with me last week. She had set me down about 6 years ago. When she decided I was not healthy for her to be around. We are facebooking, and tentatively saying hello to each other.
Diana has been my friend since the children's art school days... and our kids were in pre-school together. She loves to entertain, so I am frequently the recipient of her cooking labors, and she is the kind of charitable human who sees when I am overwhelmed and will just bring over nurturing food for my whole family. She loves to talk and has kind of an evil and obscure humor. She gets me. She loves me. She has been kind to me. When she had health issues, I supported her. She loves my art and my jewelry, and my sense of humor. I love her red hair and her bawdy humor and her zest for life. She has a different mojo than myself, but she grows and learns and has a good sense of humor. I think that we can support each other as we strive to make these changes in our lives and our bodies.
When I was 8, my ballet teacher, Nelda Honey, told me in class one day, "You are fat. Lose some weight." Apparently I ruined the aesthetic line of the serious ballet girls. My parents invested in a case of Shasta diet soda, and Aides diet candy... I was supposed to eat one of the chocolate candies with a drink of warm water prior to eating a meal. They told me that I could have a diet Shasta soda whenever I was hungry between meals. I liked the soda which had been a luxury previously, so I lost 30 pounds in just a few months, and got to some desired appropriate weight that might please my ballet teacher. The morning I achieved my goal, I smiled, knowing I could go to ballet and show Nelda all my success. When I got to class, Nelda was busy, and she had her stick in her hand that she used to keep time by pounding it on the floor during our exercises. When I got her attention, I blurted out, "Nelda, I lost the weight." She looked distractedly at me, and said with annoyance, "What?" I tried again... "Nelda, you told me to lose weight, and I lost weight." "Fine. Get back in line." She said, and as the music started she started pounding with her stick against the floor.
Mom and Dad held me as I sobbed after the lesson. They decided to honor my success, even if Nelda didn't care, so my father took me to JCPenney, to the upstairs children's department, and I found the most amazing polyester green print pant suit, and all agreed it was perfect for my coloring. I was excited to put my outfit on the sales counter, and when I did, I saw a very pretty light blue dress there, also. I got excited thinking maybe I would get two outfits. As Dad paid, he explained that the blue dress was on sale for $4.00, and it was just the right size for my sister, Laurel. Laurel hadn't gone hungry. Laurel hadn't been humiliated in ballet class. Laurel never had to worry about eating a chocolate candy and warm glass of water before a meal. It didn't seem fair.
I dieted again seriously when I was in 8th grade. There was an opportunity to get to know new people once I hit high school, and they didn't know me as the fat dufusy bookworm who had no friends. I could change my hair, change my body, and then hit the high school with my spunk and personality, and let people get to know the real me. So, I dieted with Weight Watchers along with my mom, and again lost the 40 or so pounds that I needed to get to an acceptable weight. I made my graduation deadline, but the kids who I had spent kindergarten through 8th grade with either didn't notice or weren't impressed, as my social standing in the group of 30 or so kids never upgraded. In fact, only one person agreed to come to my graduation party, as one of the other gals in my class planned her party for the same night and time, even though I had put my invitations out weeks before her.
When I went to Junior College, I was heavy again. I hadn't really planned to go to College, as that seemed my sister's plan, and I had long before decided to live my life in the exact opposition to my sister. That way, I could stand out, by being different. I never measured up to her successes as her younger sibling, so I just decided to do what she did not, and to find what I excelled at by looking at what she failed at. It wasn't a perfect system, but she had the being thin thing down, so I had to take the polar opposite route.
At any rate, as I helped friend one, two and three head off to exotic college locations, I started to regret my decision to be apathetic about education, and I enrolled at Sierra College. About half way through the year, as my sister was going through a downward spiral with her Bipolar disorder (which hadn't been diagnosed yet), my friends were inviting me to visit them at the cool dorms where they were having fun pizza gatherings, and spontaneous popcorn movie watching, and I was very much in love with the fun Kellie was having in Chico, so I started to set a goal to go to College there, for my Sophomore year, and again embraced the idea that my social life would improve if I were skinnier and people were meeting me for the first time. So Back to Weight Watchers with my Mom.
By this time, Mom was disenchanted with my sister, the bipolar teenage years made the two of them rather contentious. I was working all the time, and had a different schedule than my parents, as I worked at the Movie theater, and I started getting my meals at Burger King... the home of the pita salad. I would eat there twice a day, and have as much diet soda as I could drink, and by the time I headed off to Chico, I was 50 lbs. lighter, and ready to meet and impress Kellie's friends and make some new friends, and maybe get a boyfriend. Around this time I started to run. I found freedom in the running, and really saw results with it, so I had become a runner.
Chico was great, and I loved my independence. I ate salad bars and diet soda, from the dorm cafeteria, I ran on the track behind Kellie's dorms, and I started to be sweet on a boy or two who weren't completely adverse to my attention. I met my husband Brian in May, just right before he graduated. So, I kept my "in-shape" lifestyle, never getting too much lower than a size 14, but I was healthy and strong. When I completed my degree at Chico, I had started to drink water, instead of so much diet soda, and people asked me how I had lost the weight, but I didn't have a scale, so I just shrugged, and kept on a trucking. I was running 1/2 marathons and 10k races, and aside from a few sprained ankles and a broken foot, I was running strong.
I got married to Brian the summer after graduating from Chico, right before starting my student teaching at Sac State. Brian traveled a lot for work, and I ate those Healthy Choice meals, and it was all good and I felt strong and was still running. I got a job within weeks of finishing my student teaching, and started teaching 6th grade the following fall. That first year was hard and I just was pretty overwhelmed with how much work it was. I started eating the snack food in the teacher's room and work long hours to try to keep it up. It was very stressful, and with my husband changing jobs, I threw my energy towards that first hard year, and gained weight and stopped running very much.
I got pregnant and ballooned a bit. After having Sam, my first child, I worked hard to lose the weight in a year, as my Mom told me that I had 9 months to gain it and 9 months to lose it. So back to Weight Watchers and I lost the 60 or so pounds again. My mom started to have heart issues at this point... she weighed about 350, and after divorcing my dad, she had found love again, but her heart was just clogged, and I remember taking baby Sam to the hospital in the Bay Area in order to be with Mom while she had angioplasty and other heart re-habilitation treatments. I got pregnant with Molly, and 4 months into the pregnancy, the technician found a cyst on my ovary during a sonogram. Surgery for me, with all sorts of fear about the surgery being a life saving activity for me, and or the baby. While I was recovering from the surgery, my husband got hit by a semi truck while riding his bike. He injured his back and became somewhat useless in the care of our one year old, while I had an incision that was healing up on my belly, so I had to kind of get right back into the parenting swing while trying to take care of my family and not take care of my own healing so much. Mom had a triple bypass when Molly was just a newborn, so, each life event was compounded with lots of stress and eating comforted me.
I was a size 26 after Molly was born and Mom's operation. Work was hard, and I got a bad review from my principal. She wanted to control my burkinstock wearing and casual clothing choices. She chose to tell me a parent had written a letter anonymously to complain about some very personal choices and kind of attacked me as a human being, so I became overwhelmed by work. A new job opened up, and I grabbed it... I would be the PE teacher for a different school. I ran around with kids for 5 hours a day, believing that if I asked them to do it, I should do it as well. I dropped 70 or so pounds, and I loved my job of running around with kindergardeners through 6th graders.
One day, I remember that my Mom called me. She and my sister hadn't spoken for 7 years, so she liked me just fine now, but she was upset about a bump in her groin. The cancer was found, and diagnosed as terminal within a short time, and I decided that Brian and I would buy a house with my Mom and we could make quilts and cookies, and she would do child care for me, while I helped her go to Doctor appointments. Plans went awry, and as I started to get into this care giving mode, and I took a leave of absence from my teaching job, and became my mother's full time care giver, as well as a stay home mom. Mom was just a mess, depressed and hard to work with. I had to have my gall bladder out a few months after we moved into our house in Auburn, and after that, I started to have more weight gain. I was weighing about 190 when Mom died, and the year after her death, I took time off to try to regroup after her death.
I started my own business, a children's art school, and I worked long and hard to make the whole thing work... Again, snack food in the time of stress and long hours were a problem for me. I gained about 50 lbs. while running the art school, and was sitting at about 230 for the bulk of my time running the business. After 5 years, I kinda fell apart. I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndome, and I had to kinda abandon my business, as I could not even get out of bed to take a shower on a regular basis. All I could do was get my kids to and from school, and cook dinner. I did that for about a year, and it was the kind of thing where I kept trying to eat something that would give me energy, but digesting was exhausting, so I would fall right asleep, and then when I woke up, I would try to eat something for the energy again. I became a 260 person. Then 270. I started to lose weight a bit after I started back to work about 5 years later, and I got down to 250 when I was working 50% at the high school across the street.
About that time, my father needed some support. He was getting new knees. I started flying out to Montana where he had gone to raise his new family. When I got to his cabin in the woods, I found a very dirty space. His wife wasn't so much into housekeeping, for like 12 years, so you might imagine the levels of filth that my father was living in. I dove in and cleaned to make his living space easier for him to maneuver in, and to kind of crack the whip on his kids and wife to get the clutter out of the way as he was going to live downstairs, and there wasn't a clear path to the bathroom. So, I busted chops with them, and since I didn't trust the well water that tasted funny, I started to drink soda again, so I could soldier through the challenge of trying to be there for my dad and stay friendly with the half brother and sister and the step mom.
After his second knee surgery, Dad developed a swallowing issue. The esophageal cancer took swift action on him, and he became rather debilitated quickly. When I got my full time job teaching functional skills, special education, which was a strong learning curve for me, Dad's wife called me on the third day of school. It was time. Dad was on a ventilator. I needed to come. Now. Dad's wife got all territorial, and not only did I lose my dad, I left Montana feeling utterly orphaned.
So, during this past year, my daughter developed anxiety, and my husband shared that he had some similar issues, and my son went off to college. Eating became again a comfort for me. Exercise was not a priority. So, as I topped the scales at 295 one day, with swollen ankles, and acid relex and lethargy setting in, I decided it was time. I always thought that my weight served a purpose... to keep me safe, to balance my life in some way, and so changing it, would require the unbalanced bit to be taken care of. My sister seemed to allude that her troubles were my troubles, and that I had blocked memories of abuse and molestation. Maybe I was fat for that reason.... But when my husband's anxiety came to our attention, many of the "problems" of low self esteem and co-dependance that I have struggled with in my life have been exacerbated by my husband's anxiety condition. That seemed to be the thing that I might have been balancing. With some of my own brain damage thrown in there.
I created this body. I can create something healthier. I can love myself enough to live well and eat healthy. I can look at how the food comforts me, and how my body responds to food, and I am trying to add little 20 minute power naps to my day so that I can rest when I am over taxed. I have encouraged Husband and daughter to take ownership of their anxiety, and they are supported with classes and medication for the last few weeks now. So, there is less stress in my home. Heck, my sister even got back in touch with me last week. She had set me down about 6 years ago. When she decided I was not healthy for her to be around. We are facebooking, and tentatively saying hello to each other.
Diana has been my friend since the children's art school days... and our kids were in pre-school together. She loves to entertain, so I am frequently the recipient of her cooking labors, and she is the kind of charitable human who sees when I am overwhelmed and will just bring over nurturing food for my whole family. She loves to talk and has kind of an evil and obscure humor. She gets me. She loves me. She has been kind to me. When she had health issues, I supported her. She loves my art and my jewelry, and my sense of humor. I love her red hair and her bawdy humor and her zest for life. She has a different mojo than myself, but she grows and learns and has a good sense of humor. I think that we can support each other as we strive to make these changes in our lives and our bodies.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The husband sleeps
So, here I am. 43 years old. The TV is on, and we are watching the pilot of "Glee", again. Husband is on couch with head sliding ever so slowly to the left... Eyes fully closed and body fully slouched. He is tired. Working hard and driving 1.5 hours to get to and from work can wear a guy out.
But, that isn't what I wanted to talk about. I worked, did an IEP (longer meeting with parents to help determine what a kid will focus on for a year of learning), took some stuff to a friend whose house burned down on Sunday, and got my daughter her Senior Portrait. Then, a quick phone call to clarify stuff with a parent, and then check in with Diana to see if I had missed working out with her... Her husband said she was already at the gym... So off I went. I missed Diana, so I worked out alone, and watched my red face, sweating, hair pulled back severely, rolls of flab squishing together and unrolling as I worked the abs and tried to get my "buns of steel" which the chatty gal on the tape tells me to keep working for.
I feel good about what I am doing, and am motivated to keep going, because as child two is in her senior year, I don't want to meld into my chair, tired after a long day of work, and just keep on buying a size up as the seasons change and my life stays static. I wish to feel more balanced, to see my face again, instead of the multiple chins when I smile. To see the face I think I have not the one that stares thickly back at me from the workout mirror.
Husband sleeps, kids go to college, and I am left with this large opportunity to grow and shrink at the same time. Watching what I eat comes next. But exercising is what I am committed to now. I want to be well and healthy. We'll see how it unfolds.
But, that isn't what I wanted to talk about. I worked, did an IEP (longer meeting with parents to help determine what a kid will focus on for a year of learning), took some stuff to a friend whose house burned down on Sunday, and got my daughter her Senior Portrait. Then, a quick phone call to clarify stuff with a parent, and then check in with Diana to see if I had missed working out with her... Her husband said she was already at the gym... So off I went. I missed Diana, so I worked out alone, and watched my red face, sweating, hair pulled back severely, rolls of flab squishing together and unrolling as I worked the abs and tried to get my "buns of steel" which the chatty gal on the tape tells me to keep working for.
I feel good about what I am doing, and am motivated to keep going, because as child two is in her senior year, I don't want to meld into my chair, tired after a long day of work, and just keep on buying a size up as the seasons change and my life stays static. I wish to feel more balanced, to see my face again, instead of the multiple chins when I smile. To see the face I think I have not the one that stares thickly back at me from the workout mirror.
Husband sleeps, kids go to college, and I am left with this large opportunity to grow and shrink at the same time. Watching what I eat comes next. But exercising is what I am committed to now. I want to be well and healthy. We'll see how it unfolds.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Diana 9/1/09
Yesterday was our one-week bench mark. I did nothing about changing my diet last week but I did meet Katy at the gym three times. We get a chance to visit and an hour is over before we know it. It's actually really fun. We have been doing 10-20 minutes on the treadmill, bike, or elliptical first, then we head over to the "It Figures" equipment room (much like Curves) and progress around the circle 2 or 3 times. We are the only ones in there as we listen to the taped voice tell us to "change stations please" every 45 seconds. THE VOICE also offers very dorky encouragements, to which Katy and I offer back whitty replies. I lost only one pound for the week....but as I said, I have not changed the diet yet. If you read my previous post of my life saga, know I did reschedule my missed monthly weight loss appt with my dr for this Friday. At work today, I met a darling gal who had gastric bypass two years ago, and looking at her has reinvigorated my motivation to resume the push for surgery. I will continue to exercise as it will help me have less hangy stuff later and I will make changes in my diet where I feel I can this week. Katy mentioned stress, and we have it at our house too. Pay cuts, huge mortgage, falling home value, one kid in college and one quickly approaching, things many are experiencing. Bottom line: I feel good about this first week. Made a new committment to exercise.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Katy's Stats 8/31/09
Weight: 287 (down 3 lbs)
Chest: 48.5 (down an inch)
Waist: 49 (down 1/2 inch)
Hips: 54 (down 1/2 inch)
Thigh: 26.5 (down 1 inch)
Upper Arm: 16 (down 1 inch)
Neck: 15.5 (same)
Wrist: 7.5 (down 1/2 inch)
BMi: 39
I exercised 5 or 6 times this past week. My enthusiasm for the exercise has been good, and I haven't really worried too much about the food, except limiting dairy and adding lots more fresh fruit and veggies. I noticed that stress and food are very much related... How more food when I am stressed just seems to make more sense... So, I need to start a food diary. Need to watch what and when I am eating. I am much less stressed about my job this year... but marriage changes are stressful... So, as I shift towards the wellness factor, I will just try to be mindful. There have been fires in our town, and some of our friends lost their houses. It was frightening yesterday. Eating occurred.... I had weighed earlier in the week and I weighed 282. It was great to have that much success, but then the end of the week got more complicated and I ate more. The BMI part was Diana's idea, and if I weigh 290, I am morbidly obese. If I weigh 282, I am Severely Obese. Whacky how much difference 8 pounds makes.
Chest: 48.5 (down an inch)
Waist: 49 (down 1/2 inch)
Hips: 54 (down 1/2 inch)
Thigh: 26.5 (down 1 inch)
Upper Arm: 16 (down 1 inch)
Neck: 15.5 (same)
Wrist: 7.5 (down 1/2 inch)
BMi: 39
I exercised 5 or 6 times this past week. My enthusiasm for the exercise has been good, and I haven't really worried too much about the food, except limiting dairy and adding lots more fresh fruit and veggies. I noticed that stress and food are very much related... How more food when I am stressed just seems to make more sense... So, I need to start a food diary. Need to watch what and when I am eating. I am much less stressed about my job this year... but marriage changes are stressful... So, as I shift towards the wellness factor, I will just try to be mindful. There have been fires in our town, and some of our friends lost their houses. It was frightening yesterday. Eating occurred.... I had weighed earlier in the week and I weighed 282. It was great to have that much success, but then the end of the week got more complicated and I ate more. The BMI part was Diana's idea, and if I weigh 290, I am morbidly obese. If I weigh 282, I am Severely Obese. Whacky how much difference 8 pounds makes.
Diana's Stats as of 8/26/09
height 5'4"
weight 227
BMI 39 (I think we should track this as people who are dieting are usually told to change their BMI by their doctor....there is a healthy range we should be shooting for...based on height vs. weight. I don't know off the top of my head what that is, but there are BMI calculator all over online. I am in the severely obese category which is ugly but it is what it is)
age 45
chest 49
waist 44.5
hips 49.5
thigh 26
upper arm 14
neck 15
weight 227
BMI 39 (I think we should track this as people who are dieting are usually told to change their BMI by their doctor....there is a healthy range we should be shooting for...based on height vs. weight. I don't know off the top of my head what that is, but there are BMI calculator all over online. I am in the severely obese category which is ugly but it is what it is)
age 45
chest 49
waist 44.5
hips 49.5
thigh 26
upper arm 14
neck 15
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Diana's Saga:
I was a normal-weighted child and teen. In high school, I weighed 118 pounds and wore size 1 pants. When you're thin, they measure you with odd numbers, then when you wear "woman" sizes, even numbers, which I find odd. Anyway, I played tennis and was active but was not a super athlete. I had no hips and big boobs. I was a babe and I had FUN with it! I ate whatever I wanted and never gained weight. My family life growing up had a lot to do with celebrations, parties, holidays, having company, socializing with relatives constantly and every event was centered around the menu.
I married at age 22 weighing 130 after a couple of deliriously happy years dating and partying and restauranting with less exercising. I felt fat on my wedding day. I already loved to cook and bake and entertain.
The first kid came at age 24. I probably weighed 135 at the onset of my pregnancy and gained 50 pounds (185). I lost 30 pounds pretty much right away and hung out at 150-160 for the next 3 years. This was the first time I went to Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, counted calories, etc. I could always manage to lose 5, 10 maybe even 20, but a moment would come when I would decide to stop "dieting" and I would go back to overeating and gain it all back and more.
The second kid came at 28. I weighed 150-160 at pregnancy onset and on the weigh-in at the hospital for my C-section, I weighed 200 pounds. It was not a happy sexy moment in my life. I immediately lost 20 pounds and hung out at 180 for several months. I felt swollen and gross (now 180 even sounds good, but I digress). I went to Jenny Craig and lost 40 pounds in 5 months. I was the model loser. I looked amazing at 140. But then, I very slowly started not paying attention to what and how much I put in my mouth and thus began the next 15 years of constant rollercoaster of losing and gaining. I got kinda busy with working and earning and having two school age children and keeping a home during this phase of my life.
A year ago, I reached my peak at 232 and took part in a community weight loss program which involved nutritional counseling and early morning boot camp workouts for 12 weeks. I lost 25 pounds in that period of time. I was on fire and so excited and motivated and again, the model loser. Then the program was over, I had no one to check in with, and I resumed overeating, stopped exercising, and here I am, today, at 227.
After a lot of soul searching as to why I overeat, I finally decided I must be forcibly and SURGICALLY stopped! I could not come up with a good reason for my weight! I was never molested or abused, always had great self esteem and a supportive loving intact family and a relatively drama-free life. I am happy and love life. I have a gorgeous husband and two healthy smart kids. I have a great job in the dental industry, I craft, have great friends, love where I live, the list goes on. I love to COOK and SERVE and entertain and menu plan and read recipes and watch FOOD Network (Ina Garten I love you!), peruse the gourmet aisle, etc. I sometimes think I am just destined to be a fat grandma who is joyful and bakes and knits and the world can suck it. Then an event comes, and I wish I looked better, or I try to bound up the stairs and my knee hurts, or my friends are going on a hike and I am not in good enough shape to go. How pathetic is that?
So anyway, a couple months ago, I visited my doctor and told her I want the surgery. I want a lap-band and not gastric bypass. I am not going to go into medical details in this blog, just know that this is where I am currently in my head. I want the easy fix. I have tried to lose weight and failed so many times. I am obviously not willing or able to alter my cooking, portions, amount of exercise, for the long term so I am ready to be cut open and have a rubber band placed around my stomach so when I eat more than a tablespoon of food, I will puke. I'm okay with that....some days. I waver back and forth.
Getting the insurance to approve the surgery involves one visit a month to my primary doctor for several months and I have to "prove" I can limit myself on my own and lose 40 pounds before they will approve the surgery. My goal weight is 140 so I need to lose 87 pounds. I do not know what mathematical formula was performed at the doctor's office, but 40 pounds was the number I was told I had to lose to be taken seriously and get approved for the surgery. I am not independently wealthy and not willing to pay cash for the surgery, so I need to go the insurance route. I figured if I can lose 40 pounds on my own, I will no longer want the surgery as I would be about half way to my goal and have some good habits in place by then, and 47 additional pounds to lose would not be worth the risks of surgery. But I decided to take the necessary steps to get approved for the surgery anyway, and then decide to do it or not do it AFTER I lose the requisite 40 pounds.
My first thought after my first wonderfully encouraging appointment with my doctor, whom I admire and adore, was YAY THIS CAN HAPPEN I CAN DO THIS (which is ALWAYS my first thought when embarking on yet another weight loss journey). The first week I lost 7 pounds and I was elated. The next week I lost 2, next week 1, next week 0, next week gained 3 (there was a party!), and so on. I accidentally on purpose forgot the next appointment....so now you are up to the moment. I started out excited and did well, then somewhere I got sidetracked or busy or stressed or SOMETHING and gained back 5 of the 10 I lost. STORY OF MY LIFE.
I don't know if I should go back to the doctor and resume the surgery track or save my copays and just move on yet again to the next thing, which is work out with Katy and try to do this while supporting and encouraging each other. It should be noted that I have known Katy for 12 years and we have a wonderful friendship. I adore Katy for her brains and her heart, and I think she is beautiful at any weight. The woman has a presence and a style and a way all her own. She is an amazing human. I don't judge her for her weight one iota. I believe a person’s appearance has no bearing on the most important qualities a human possesses.....BUT we are getting older and we could DIE, so there is that….seemingly all of a sudden!....digressing again....
You may be reading between the lines here, I am not enthused at the moment about this next trial, the work to do, the seemingly inevitable failure. I am jumping on Katy's enthusiastic bandwagon. I believe in science and science says you can expect a result based on a past experience. Past experience for me is being a Jenny Craig drop-out or gainer backer or a quitter, whatever you want to call it. To lose all this weight and never gain it back again means to change everything....forever. That sounds scary and hard and nearly impossible. So my attitude is: Cut me up and tie off my stomach. I am ready. I wish the insurance didn't make you jump through so many hoops, but I do understand why they require the steps. It is not only a physical change that will happen, but an emotional/ mental one that "they" have to make sure you are able to handle. Basically, they have to make sure you aren't too nuts or too stupid I guess.
So I think I'll go ahead and reschedule my missed appointment with the doc and at the same time just pull up my big girl panties (true that!...they are really big cotton briefs...I have a funny underwear story I will share with you later) and take it a day at a time, go to the gym with Katy, eat more fresh and healthy and less baked and buttery. For some insane reason, I have agreed to share this experience with whomever is bored enough to read it. All my secrets. My NUMBERS for crying out loud. What the hell. It might work. And if it does, Katy and I figure there's a book deal in there somewhere and we will laugh our tiny firm asses off in our bikinis on the sands of Waikiki sipping diet pina coladas, reminiscing about when we were fatties. More later.......diana
I married at age 22 weighing 130 after a couple of deliriously happy years dating and partying and restauranting with less exercising. I felt fat on my wedding day. I already loved to cook and bake and entertain.
The first kid came at age 24. I probably weighed 135 at the onset of my pregnancy and gained 50 pounds (185). I lost 30 pounds pretty much right away and hung out at 150-160 for the next 3 years. This was the first time I went to Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, counted calories, etc. I could always manage to lose 5, 10 maybe even 20, but a moment would come when I would decide to stop "dieting" and I would go back to overeating and gain it all back and more.
The second kid came at 28. I weighed 150-160 at pregnancy onset and on the weigh-in at the hospital for my C-section, I weighed 200 pounds. It was not a happy sexy moment in my life. I immediately lost 20 pounds and hung out at 180 for several months. I felt swollen and gross (now 180 even sounds good, but I digress). I went to Jenny Craig and lost 40 pounds in 5 months. I was the model loser. I looked amazing at 140. But then, I very slowly started not paying attention to what and how much I put in my mouth and thus began the next 15 years of constant rollercoaster of losing and gaining. I got kinda busy with working and earning and having two school age children and keeping a home during this phase of my life.
A year ago, I reached my peak at 232 and took part in a community weight loss program which involved nutritional counseling and early morning boot camp workouts for 12 weeks. I lost 25 pounds in that period of time. I was on fire and so excited and motivated and again, the model loser. Then the program was over, I had no one to check in with, and I resumed overeating, stopped exercising, and here I am, today, at 227.
After a lot of soul searching as to why I overeat, I finally decided I must be forcibly and SURGICALLY stopped! I could not come up with a good reason for my weight! I was never molested or abused, always had great self esteem and a supportive loving intact family and a relatively drama-free life. I am happy and love life. I have a gorgeous husband and two healthy smart kids. I have a great job in the dental industry, I craft, have great friends, love where I live, the list goes on. I love to COOK and SERVE and entertain and menu plan and read recipes and watch FOOD Network (Ina Garten I love you!), peruse the gourmet aisle, etc. I sometimes think I am just destined to be a fat grandma who is joyful and bakes and knits and the world can suck it. Then an event comes, and I wish I looked better, or I try to bound up the stairs and my knee hurts, or my friends are going on a hike and I am not in good enough shape to go. How pathetic is that?
So anyway, a couple months ago, I visited my doctor and told her I want the surgery. I want a lap-band and not gastric bypass. I am not going to go into medical details in this blog, just know that this is where I am currently in my head. I want the easy fix. I have tried to lose weight and failed so many times. I am obviously not willing or able to alter my cooking, portions, amount of exercise, for the long term so I am ready to be cut open and have a rubber band placed around my stomach so when I eat more than a tablespoon of food, I will puke. I'm okay with that....some days. I waver back and forth.
Getting the insurance to approve the surgery involves one visit a month to my primary doctor for several months and I have to "prove" I can limit myself on my own and lose 40 pounds before they will approve the surgery. My goal weight is 140 so I need to lose 87 pounds. I do not know what mathematical formula was performed at the doctor's office, but 40 pounds was the number I was told I had to lose to be taken seriously and get approved for the surgery. I am not independently wealthy and not willing to pay cash for the surgery, so I need to go the insurance route. I figured if I can lose 40 pounds on my own, I will no longer want the surgery as I would be about half way to my goal and have some good habits in place by then, and 47 additional pounds to lose would not be worth the risks of surgery. But I decided to take the necessary steps to get approved for the surgery anyway, and then decide to do it or not do it AFTER I lose the requisite 40 pounds.
My first thought after my first wonderfully encouraging appointment with my doctor, whom I admire and adore, was YAY THIS CAN HAPPEN I CAN DO THIS (which is ALWAYS my first thought when embarking on yet another weight loss journey). The first week I lost 7 pounds and I was elated. The next week I lost 2, next week 1, next week 0, next week gained 3 (there was a party!), and so on. I accidentally on purpose forgot the next appointment....so now you are up to the moment. I started out excited and did well, then somewhere I got sidetracked or busy or stressed or SOMETHING and gained back 5 of the 10 I lost. STORY OF MY LIFE.
I don't know if I should go back to the doctor and resume the surgery track or save my copays and just move on yet again to the next thing, which is work out with Katy and try to do this while supporting and encouraging each other. It should be noted that I have known Katy for 12 years and we have a wonderful friendship. I adore Katy for her brains and her heart, and I think she is beautiful at any weight. The woman has a presence and a style and a way all her own. She is an amazing human. I don't judge her for her weight one iota. I believe a person’s appearance has no bearing on the most important qualities a human possesses.....BUT we are getting older and we could DIE, so there is that….seemingly all of a sudden!....digressing again....
You may be reading between the lines here, I am not enthused at the moment about this next trial, the work to do, the seemingly inevitable failure. I am jumping on Katy's enthusiastic bandwagon. I believe in science and science says you can expect a result based on a past experience. Past experience for me is being a Jenny Craig drop-out or gainer backer or a quitter, whatever you want to call it. To lose all this weight and never gain it back again means to change everything....forever. That sounds scary and hard and nearly impossible. So my attitude is: Cut me up and tie off my stomach. I am ready. I wish the insurance didn't make you jump through so many hoops, but I do understand why they require the steps. It is not only a physical change that will happen, but an emotional/ mental one that "they" have to make sure you are able to handle. Basically, they have to make sure you aren't too nuts or too stupid I guess.
So I think I'll go ahead and reschedule my missed appointment with the doc and at the same time just pull up my big girl panties (true that!...they are really big cotton briefs...I have a funny underwear story I will share with you later) and take it a day at a time, go to the gym with Katy, eat more fresh and healthy and less baked and buttery. For some insane reason, I have agreed to share this experience with whomever is bored enough to read it. All my secrets. My NUMBERS for crying out loud. What the hell. It might work. And if it does, Katy and I figure there's a book deal in there somewhere and we will laugh our tiny firm asses off in our bikinis on the sands of Waikiki sipping diet pina coladas, reminiscing about when we were fatties. More later.......diana
Monday, August 24, 2009
Katy's Stats 8/24/09
Age:43
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 290.8
Chest: 49.5"
Waist:49.5"
Hips: 54.5"
Thigh: 27.5"
Upper arm: 17"
Neck: 15.5"
Wrist: 8"
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 290.8
Chest: 49.5"
Waist:49.5"
Hips: 54.5"
Thigh: 27.5"
Upper arm: 17"
Neck: 15.5"
Wrist: 8"
Day One
Katy Fries and Diana Westin are trying to change their lives. We have been wonderful Mothers and thoughtful wives, and the effort of which has been very rewarding but kinda clogging to the arteries. We are larger women than we want to be, and we are ready to take charge of our health and well being and put our smarts to work on getting our bodies healthy. I am Katy, and my journey is potentially a longer one that Diana's. She needs to lose 80 lbs. I need to lose 120. The doctor at Kaiser told me to exercise for an hour a day, join Weight Watchers and take St. John's Wort. Diana has been pursuing a treatment course to get the lap band, but thinks that once she loses the requisite 40 lbs.... she will be doing well enough to keep on going. We have both explored and invested in the diet industry and have ended up here... where we are... Right now. So, we begin this journey, with each of us posting ideas and coming up with photos, thoughts and ideas about what two peri-menopausal chicks with stretch marks and guts that jiggle and protrude think about life, health and friendship.
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