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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.