When Strength Becomes Armour

When my daughter, Emily, died in 1989, the world fell away from my feet for a very long time. I had previously lost a child through adoption in 1978 and, no matter what the choice involved, no matter what happiness I brought her new family, no matter how many well meaning souls congratulated me on "doing the right thing", the loss of "Sarra" was as emotionally painful as the death of Emily. Two children gone forever - my heart broken completely.

I can't think of a single parent who has heard my story who hasn't first shuddered then quickly counted their blessings. All in the split second before they automatically say, "You are so strong, I couldn't survive that." For years I mentally said "oh yes you could and you would. What makes you think I'm so special?" but I never said it out loud because no one knows their strength until tested and no one ever wants to imagine that the test might come someday - like a pop quiz in life. So - mostly I sucked it up, moved forward and ate myself through my pain.

I became pregnant with Gillian less than 2 weeks after Emily died - a single act of sex between two traumatized souls producing a new hope for the future but, inevitably, adding to the burden of a life not yet ready to be rejoined. I have no memory of the pregnancy - so wrapped up in my own head, I barely recall her birth. I do know I never moved out of maternity clothes - every ounce of emotional relief I sought from the bottom of a bag of chips during my pregnancy stayed with me on my hips.

I learned to survive - my husband and I grasped hands together tightly and moved forward one tiny step at a time. I spent the first 6 months of Gillian's life thinking that she, too, would die. I became resigned to the fact that I had no control over the things that mattered. Over time, the gloom started to shift a little and I found room for small measures of joy. Gillian was an easy baby, her older sister Heather was a charming 4 year old. Steven and I became closer than any couple could imagine being - we are, to this day, each other's biggest supporter, closest companion, best friend. So, the fog lifted, and I started to move forward.

I AM "strong" - my spirit has been forged in a veritable blast furnace. People, as I've said, openly admire my strength. I admire my strength - marvel at it at times - what I've been through!! How I've managed! How I cope!! I'm amazing...

Except, I rarely felt amazing, or particularly strong. I was a lost soul with a tough armour on the outside and a huge gaping hole on the inside - just like those relics from the middle ages. I kept trying to fill that hole with food - anything and everything. It was a momentary pleasure followed by a monstrous personal disdain that dug the hole a little bigger. An endless circle of eating to fill up and feeling emptier as a result.

I didn't even realize this was happening to me. As life tumbled on at its breakneck pace, I ran along side of it. Wonderful people, events and accomplishments kept me moving forward with a kind of momentary pleasure. No one looking at me from the outside could have guessed that many nights, while I lie awake in bed, it took every fibre of my being not to scream out loud. Those moments were frequent enough to tell me that all was not right but life was enjoyable enough during the day that I didn't probe it too deeply. I bought another Mars bar.

My armour of strength became so thick that nothing got in or out. It took a chance encounter with a caring psychologist to point that out. She was supposed to help me find a new job after relocating to Calgary with my husband's job change. She was supposed to sort out my aptitudes and interests, help me navigate the decidedly different health care system in Alberta and help me get back to work. Instead, she met with me a couple of times and then asked "why do you think it is so hard for you to ask for help?"

It was an epiphany. It was THE moment that started me on my journey to health. It was a tiny little question with HUGE implications. It was the wee little chisel that found a weak spot in the armour. Our lengthy discussions about this very question led to more questions and more discussion and slowly, the armour started to feel less constricting - I was starting to breathe.

I am strong. I have coped with trauma. I have dealt with pain. I have survived. But, when strength becomes armour it can do more harm than good. I became so good at coping, that I stopped letting anyone see that I didn't always cope well at all. I became so good at masking my pain, that I never let anyone see when I was hurting. I was always externally cheerful, relentlessly pragmatic and present oriented, never daring to dream, never showing a moment of weakness. I was efficient, hard working, thoughtful, intense. I was short tempered, impatient and filled with a kind of sad anger that can't be defined. I disdained weakness, fear. I was a mess of conflict, resignation, sarcasm and hopelessness. I never let anyone visit the damaged inside of me. Not even my husband.

My armour was killing me - learning how to shed it saved my life. Learning how to ask for help - learning how to accept help! Learning how to dream - to feel like I deserve to have dreams! Learning how to stop comparing my tormented insides to anyone's outsides - learning to change my insides! Piece by heavy piece, my armour has fallen away and my life has begun to emerge.

It's still emerging.

Tale of Two Blogs

I've been leading a double life and it's caused a standstill on this blog even though I like this blog very much.

I designed this blog to be a blog for me and me alone - anyone else reading it was welcome to do so but, ultimately, I just wanted a place to come when I needed to be reminded of the importance of my journey.

The problem now is twofold - I haven't really needed to be reminded as often as I thought I would. I now believe that I've managed that amazing thing called a lifestyle change - I firmly believe I have made life altering changes that are permanent.

My daughter tells me the best evidence of this is what happens when I buy a coffee. She and I have the good fortune of meeting on the train 2 mornings a week for our commute - lovely to get together for a visit before work. When we get to Union Station, I go to the Cinnabon stand to get a coffee - I like their coffee (Country Style) but I cannot even look at their baked goods. DD tells me that when I am asked if I would like anything else, I make the most appalled face as though I cannot believe anyone would ask such a preposterous question. She's right - I'm in the line up where tons of people (pun intended) go to load up on the worst form of pure sugar nightmare imaginable and I act like it's a ridiculous idea that anyone would want to order one of those things. I am trying to reform for the sake of the other customers and the lovely people who serve me my coffee but the very idea of a gloppy, gluey, calorie laden, nutrition free product such as a Cinnabon bun makes me want to throw up. Same with cheesies, Mars bars, chip dip, french fries, every single thing sold at McDonald's, deep fired anything, store bought baking of any kind, home prepared products using Campbell's soup as a base - the list goes on.

So, I'm not tempted. Don't have cravings. Eat alot. Exercise willingly. Feel self love. Feel grateful.

As a result, I don't get back to this blog very often.

The second reason I'm not here is because I started another blog on my sparkpeople page. That blog I started to inspire others. And it's worked. After just 3 months as a sparkpeople person (a sparkie?), I was chosen as a "Motivator" - an honour given to those people who are nominated by other members. I'm very touched.

My sparkblog is really dedicated to what I think about this journey I've been on. To share some of the self learning I've had in order to stimulate others. It is an unapologetically positive blog. My whole page is - dedicated to simply positive thoughts and gratitude. This is definitely in keeping with the sparkpeople approach - it's a way more positive and helpful site than my old friend WW.

So, now, I have 2 blogs. This one for me and that one for others. Because the other is so abjectly positive, I've decided to use this one to explore some of the darker sides of this journey - again, for my own purposes. I've had some breakthroughs recently about my childhood and upbringing and I want to explore their impact on me as part of this journey. It may get a little ugly - who knows? But, I thought a warning for anyone lurking around might be in order.

If you're interested in my sparkpeople blog, visit my page:

http://www.sparkpeople.com My name there is serene_me.

Stay tuned!

Then and Now - photos of change

This is a picture of my husband and me taken in the mountains in August 2004. We're both at our heaviest ever weights - 221 for me, 235 for him.

We were both 45 and heading down a perilous path of poor health - he with high blood pressure already percolating away and me with a self-loathing that was downright paralytic.

We needed to make change.

Fast forward to August 2009. What a difference 5 years make!

I like the idea that time will pass regardless of what you're doing with it. Taking 5 years to make this change would have seemed untenably long as it stretched into the future back in 2004 - in retrospect, it's happened pretty quickly and I'm glad we spent our time this way. Now we're both thinner, fitter and way, way healthier:

DH is 165 lbs and, here I am about 138. My goal is to be 140 so, this little extra cushion works well for me.

We are committed to maintaining the healthy lifestyles that got us to this fit, thin state and believe we will never again be obese.

Working on this one day at a time together makes that possible. I am grateful that my DH will do this with me.

Cheers.

Some catchphrases just work.

My lovely and talented sister-in-law C. is an inspiration to me. She conquered her life long battle with obesity about 12 years ago and changed her corporate career to become a Life Coach - a perfect choice for her personality and skills. I had a chance to catch up with her last week while on vacation and, as usual, learned a few new things from her.

I can't credit her with creating this saying but she's the first person I heard it from so I give her credit for spreading the idea. We were talking about some of her young work colleagues whose lives look so perfect - gorgeous, thin and making good money, these 3 women have what everyone wants. Success, amazing lives, unbelievable opportunity and, of course, perfect wardrobes. It's hard not to be jealous of women like them - and, in fact, we very often waste energy and do ourselves harm by being exactly that - jealous. But, as C. was telling me about them, it became clear things were not all that they seem. One of the 3 has recently entered a treatment centre for substance abuse. Another went to visit her on a "friends and family" support day and came sobbing to C. the next day describing her own need for treatment for a cocaine addiction and bulimia. We discussed how unhappy these 2 women must be to have these terrible problems and I commented that you never really knew what was going on inside someone's head. C., "well, you know, you can't compare your insides to someone else's outsides. It's just not a fair fight."

Comparing my inside to someone else's outside. How much time and energy have I wasted doing exactly that? And, at what cost? And it is an unfair fight - I get to be the loser everytime I start with this game.

This has become an important discussion topic in my family. My youngest started university yesterday - her second attempt. She's convinced herself that she is the only one who is nervous and anxious. That she is the only one who is afraid she won't make friends. That everyone looks more confident/more intelligent/more outgoing than she. When she called last night to describe how she's made a few great jokes that everyone in her group appreciated, my other daughter said "what do you think the quiet ones were thinking about your outside compared to their insides?" It made me smile to hear that.

I have to stop comparing my insides to the outsides of others. And I have to be aware that now that my outside is looking pretty good, others might need more compassion from me as they compare their insides to my outside. My insides are a work in progress just like everyone else's; trying to make a life that has meaning for me. To judge that against what anyone esle is presenting just isn't worth it.

It's not a fair fight.

I can.

A sparkpeople blog about being able to touch your toes again after a many year inability to do so has got me thinking about all of the things I have achieved on this journey of recovery from obesity. I thought I would talk about them here in case I ever get the urge to return to my unhealthy past! Having these reminders of what has changed (and why) has been good motivation and celebration through these months of maintenance. All tools at the ready! All hands on deck!

I can touch my toes without bending my knees. I can almost get my hand flat on the ground although I have tight hips so it's hard.

I can squat for a long time talking to a small child or playing with a cute dog and stand straight up afterwards without needing a hand up. My knees make an obnoxious crunchy sound but, they do it!

I can run up a flight of stairs 2 at a time. And still breathe at the top.

I can squeeze through a tight place - this is more handy than you know - cars parked too closely beside mine aren't a worry, I need a very few inches to get through.

I can fit boots over my calves - first time since 1978. This is significant - I plan to buy my first pair of winter dress boots in over 30 years!

I can easily change the water cooler jug at work - hoist it up, turn it over, plug it in - voilà - fresh water and no need to wait for a brawny guy to happen along.

I can run 19km without stopping. I'm not entirely sure why anyone would want or need to be able to do this - I'm not entirely sure why I want or need to do it. I just know that I do and I can.

I can get up at 5:30 am to exercise. I used to think 5:30 am was a decent bedtime for a Friday night.

I can laugh at myself. Those of us who suffer from perfectionism don't laugh at our foibles very readily - being able to do so takes courage.

I can make change. I am not so set in my ways that I can't try new things. New ways of thinking. New attitudes and new values. I have always embraced change in my external circumstances - now I can make changes to my internal machine.

I can do 10 full plank style push ups without stopping. I feel like GI-Jane. Without the bad hair.

I can be serene - live without anger or frustration or impatience. I can accept, move beyond, forgive, forget. Releasing negative energy and embracing contentment makes life quieter.

I can sleep all night without heartburn, stress, worry, pain troubling me.

I can bend over to tie my shoes without a change in my breathing.

I can eat healthfully, with satisfaction and delight, without guilt or embarrassment and feel sated.

I can dream. I can set goals. And achieve them.

All of these marvelous achievements! All from a healthy lifestyle that has focussed on my spirit, body and mind. All things I would miss dreadfully if I were to lose them through my own inattention to my needs.

Such strength in 2 little words... I can.

Fear of failure and the power to believe.

I'm doing it - really doing it! This maintenance thing that is both as boring and as scary as the weightloss process itself is being done. One day at a time and one decision at a time but I'm doing it!

Yeah me!

It's scary though. I have so much excellent experience with failure at this game. All the previous times I've lost a few or many pounds only to have them ambush me again without warning. All those failed attempts to start dieting. All those half baked attempts at exercise. I can't count the number of times I've successfully lost enough weight to go buy a new, smaller sized pair of jeans only to have them relegated to the back of the closet within a few weeks. Yes, failure has followed me around like a stalker for many years and doing this maintenance thing means confronting those fears daily.

I've struggled for many years with using an external locus of control in my life; basically an approach that many perfectionists use to protect our delicate ego from facing the harsh reality of our human imperfection. If I forgot to do something, I could always find something else to blame. If I ate too much or exercised too little, I could blame that on something or someone too. I used other people to determine if I were fat or thin enough and always felt judged by them. I was sure people watched what I ate or wore or said or did - and felt bad or good about all of those things based on what I thought they were thinking about me!

It's not a happy place to live because, if other people or circumstances are to blame for everything wrong in your life, you don't have to take any responsibility for fixing things - it's out of your control after all. So, I've had to work hard on squelching the inner voice of perfectionism in my head while I was working with the rest of my damaged psyche. The sad truth is that we perfectionists don't think we're perfect, we think we're supposed to be and are saddened daily by our failure to be perfect... another failure.

It's hurting my head to even think about it.

No, I am not perfect and I am not even supposed to be. But that doesn't mean I'm going to fail at this crazy thing. Not this time. I have too much invested in my recovery to believe 6 homemade chocolate chip cookies (eaten warm from the oven, and they weren't small either) have any real meaning in the grand scheme of this journey. Making a choice to eat cookies does not mean I'm failing - it means I'm human and that's okay because I can be in control - not the cookies.

So, here I am, a recovering perfectionist learning to believe that maintenance can be imperfectly done without failing at it. Trusting that I have the power to eat less on the days after the cookie binge; honestly reporting my calories in the nutrition calculator; not justifying the indulgence based on the 700 cals burned that morning in a run. Just making daily choices that make sense in the grand scheme of an imperfect life.

That is success and is my power.

It's hardly fair... shopping still sucks!

I am willing to bet there isn't a fat woman out there in North America who doesn't believe with all of her heart that clothes shopping will be nirvana when she reaches that magical number lodged in the ideal weight part of her brain. I certainly did.

At 221 lbs., I was so tired of my limited options in clothing stores. I bought everything with spandex so it would be comfortable over rolls. I could also buy a smaller size if it were stretchy enough! But, I could never buy blouses that fit over my upper arms. And they gaped at the chest regardless of the shoulder width. I purchased many jackets that could not do up at the waist - if they fit the upper arms, I was more than happy to leave them open even if it did give the appearance of a gentleman's hunting jacket from a 17th century painting. Pants were a nightmare - to get something to go around my ginormous thighs I had to endure 4 inches of gaping at the waist. A belt cinching that extra material just pulled the whole thing upward resulting in pants with perma-wedgy. Always uncomfortable, snug, pulling, and, let's face it, not very attractive. No matter what I bought or how much I paid for it - clothes just didn't look good on me.

So I learned to hate shopping - paying too much for ill fitting, ugly clothes seemed like torture. I once enjoyed thrift store shopping but, as an obese woman, you really don't want someone else's pulled out, worn out garments. Brand new ones would rub an open seam between the legs soon enough - no need to get something already threadbare! Taking valuable time from an overpacked day in order to drive to a busy mall where you're bound to be disappointed, depressed and disillusioned just doesn't seem like a good way to spend your life.

Losing 81 lbs should mean that these feelings are behind me. That shopping for clothes with this trim, fit, proportioned body would be a joyful experience. Walk into any store in the mall and come out with a bag of perfect clothing designed to fit the new me like a model's wardrobe.

HA!

Shopping is still a nightmare! I have almost as much difficulty now as I did 5 years ago. I am a size 2 - this is not a real woman's size anymore - only teenagers and movie stars wear size 2. I lost 81 lbs but gained 5 years in age - I'm almost 50, I don't really want to shop at Garage, Aritzia, Suzy Shier or H&M. I want to shop at Cleo, or the Bay or Laura or Nygard but, in order to do so, I have to shop in the Petites section. I am 5' 5 1/2" tall - Petites are too short in the leg length, too short in the hemline (no one, and I mean no one, needs to see 50 year old formerly obese knees), too short in the sleeves. But, the regular sizes start at 4 and that, apparently, is too big.

They shouldn't be too big - I weigh 140lbs for heaven's sake!! I weighed 20lbs less all through high school and was happy with my size 10s. What the hell has happened here?? How can I weigh 140lbs and be too small to buy clothes?

GAH!

I don't have time for this. I really don't. I am going to Newfoundland for the weekend and, given its, shall we say, unpredictable summer weather, I thought it might be wise to have a second pair of long pants along for the ride. I own one single pair of long pants that fit. I spent three hours shopping on Thursday night coming home with a pair of Calvin Klein jeans that are too short but, at least they fit in the waist, hips and legs. That's it - one pair of jeans from 7 stores, at least 15 trips to the change rooms and a wallet prepared to be open.

It was so discouraging. In addition to many pairs of ill fitting jeans, I tried on jackets that fell off my shoulders like a de-padded 80's blazer. I tried on skirts that could accommodate both arms with the zipper done up. I tried on baggy blouses (even in the arms) and ill fitting sweaters and I can't even imagine getting to September and facing my completely empty winter wardrobe. I may need a month off work just to find the time to search out clothes to wear to work.

What has happened? Why isn't this more fun? I don't ever want to go back to being overweight but, please, someone make cothes for me that fit!

Change is good...

Well, I've yanked out the umbilical cord and switched from old faithful to a new BFF. It's going to save me some money but that really wasn't the point. I just needed more and my old faithful wasn't providing it any longer - sniff.

Yes, I've switched from Weight Watchers to Spark People (http://www.sparkpeople.com/) - and it's been a BIG change.

First of all, it's free - a philanthropic young entrepreneur who cashed in on the dot com craze before it tanked has decided to change the world on his earnings - and, to be fair, sell a truckload full of advertising at the same time. But, no one forces me to open the ads so, it's free to me.

I made the change because I needed better tools to manage my diet. WW's point system just isn't good enough for someone who runs 38 km a week and needs to keep a practiced eye on when and how much carbohydrate and protein were eaten. And a plan that separates sugar from carbs. And tells you how much sodium you're taking in - especially important for me as I eat very few processed foods and don't use table salt yet sweat up a storm 4 hours a week. Some of us need to keep an eye on sodium to make sure we're getting enough! It counts every calorie and measures them all - WW was too easy to assign a single point for a banana even though the one just eaten was 9 inches long and fat through the middle!

WW points just stopped working for me even though I was maintaining my weight and rarely hungry - I felt like something was missing. And my garmin forerunner 305 GPS heart monitor was begging for the information it produces to be put to good use!

Sparkpeople allows me to better manage my exercise. It adjusts my intake based on actual calories burned - information I get directly from my heart monitor - so, no more guessing at intensity! No more Activity Points - I actually see the calories I've used and need to replace. Sparkpeople offers a range for my daily intake to accommodate these needs. On non-running days I can see that I used less calories and ate less too - quite the concept.

I also switched for motivation - I want to be inspired. There are inspiring souls on the WW boards and they are universally encouraging but the majority of members are struggling as I once did with doing the same things day in and day out and expecting different results. Laments and excuses and psychic pain and self loathing and doubt and quick fixes and falling apart at the seams... I have been there, I find it all very discouraging.

I don't want to be the one doing the inspiring - I have no easy answers for those seeking the magic pill. I worry about the newbies who pop up and drop 10 lbs in the first 2 weeks and expect it to last. I worry about those with chronic health conditions who desperately need to find some answers but are struggling with forming the right questions for themselves. I feel inadequate. So, on Spark People I've joined a maintenance group where there are many people who have lost amazing amounts of weight and I am just one of the crowd. I can read their personal stories on their sparkpeople blogs and be thrilled and awed by their pictures and find the self pride to continue this for another day.

So, for now, I'm a sparkpeople devotee. I've pretty much abandoned my WW boards - haven't time to go back to them and I do miss the wonderful people who populate the 40's board in particular. So, once life settles down and I'm not quite so busy, I will go back and maybe spread the word - that should get me banned!!!

Check it out for yourself!

Too busy?

I really, truly am too busy right now.

I work fulltime as the Program Manager for a busy government program and commute about 3 hours every day to get to and from my job.

I teach a 4 hour nursing theory class on Tuesday nights and all week peck away at teaching the same course online. I assign too many assignments which means seemingly endless marking but I care deeply about my students and their learning so it's worthwhile.

I am training for a half marathon - getting up at 5 am to tackle hill repeats (which I love - strangely enough) and tempo runs and spending Sunday mornings logging 16-19 km with all the related warm up and cool down and stretching time factored in. I crosstrain with an active, vibrant yoga practice and swim laps in my pool.

I have a husband. We have friends. My grown daughters are launched or are launching - but my year old grandson needs a periodic visit involving multiple flights to Savannah for long but oh so very short weekends and the youngest needs reassurance that she won't get lost at U of T in the fall.

Planning a get together with another couple requires the services of an event planner and 4 Blackberries. Committing to a family get together at the cottage means a complete overhaul of a month's worth of "to do" items. Forget that crown I need - there is no time to call the dentist to make an appointment let alone time to attend it.

In the meantime, there are books piling up on my bedside table begging to be enjoyed. And emails from people awaiting my witty reply. There is an empty refrigerator and an overfull laundry basket and sometimes I can barely muster the strength to suck back the needed dose of Flovent before tumbling into bed at 9 pm.

It is a full life. I am BUSY. Everyone I know is busy! And everyone uses it as an excuse for something.

My girlfriend is too busy to exercise. She gave up her nightly walks when her work started following her home like a scruffy, persistent dog. The 22 lbs she's gained since Christmas are starting to show and she is finding less energy to get through her work during the day meaning even more is tracking her home.

My colleague is too busy to prepare meals. She no longer packs a nutritious lunch and generally picks up something from a fast food joint on the way home from the office for dinner. She complains about the toll it's taking on her wallet but doesn't admit to any worry about what it's doing to her or her family's health.

Another is too busy to carry on with her French classes - she's been studying for a couple of years and even dated a fellow student for a time - she loves to tell of their trip to Paris where she mangled enough verbs to start another revolution and felt completely bilingual despite her lack of fluency. She, too, is simply too busy at work to take any personal time at all anymore and her French is limited to our occasional fractured conversations.

All of them are too busy to diet. "I haven't time to attend Weight Watcher's meetings anymore" says one - "I'm going to have to take a break."

I understand that something has to give - there are, after all, only so many hours in the day. But in the grand priority of life - nutrition and exercise have to come first. Just like there is no "taking a vacation" from proper nutrition, there is no "too busy" for it either. Too busy to feed and nurture yourself? Too busy to ensure your body is getting what it needs to keep moving forward? Too busy to care about your spirit or your mind? Too busy to prevent disease? Too busy to love yourself?

Yes, some things have to go but surely active involvement in loving ourself fits in somewhere? In order to make sure I still have time for the activities I need to be healthy, I've given some things up this summer:

• I've given up time on the WW boards and facebook until I get through this too busy period.
• I've given up TV using it twice a week for my yoga practice and little more. I can get the news while I'm commuting - usually 6 times over!
• I've given up reading for pleasure.
• I've given up cooking - we're eating raw and straight from the fridge most days.
• I've given up my blog - this is the first time I've written in 3 weeks and only because the last appointment of my day didn't show!
• I've given up shopping - I can do without a trip to the mall more than I can do without an hour of weight training.
• I've given up house work - well, not completely -but let's just say my standard has slipped substantially and people should call before they drop by!

But I haven't given up on me and what I need to be healthy - I am still logging my food intake. I am still eating healthfully 95% of the time. I am diligent about exercising. I am committed to these lifestyle changes I have made.

And when the load lightens - I'm not teaching ANYTHING in September! - I'll be grateful that I stayed on track as I'm sitting on the couch watching TV and chatting with the wonderful people on the 40s board.

See you in the fall :)

Yes, Virginia, it is ALL about Self Worth

I'll admit it. I'm a little leery of the GDT on the WW website.

Primarily populated by intelligent, opinionated, witty women, (many, frankly, with way too much time on their hands), it is often the place where the power of those immense attributes is not used for the purpose of good. So much sarcasm and criticism and put downs in the name of humour, bonding of the few, exclusion of the many, control of something as meaningless as the GDT. I've ventured in naively a time or two and have been accused of being a troll - the ultimate act of isolation and control - so, I stay away. But I can't help but lurk because, buried in the meaningless chatter about Jon and Kate Plus Eight, there is often a nugget worth exploration.

Earlier this week, someone posted a plaintive question that went something like this: "Why don't I have the self worth needed to keep myself from making poor choices?" I only read the first dozen or so replies - every one of them stating unilaterally that "self worth" has nothing to do with this process - it's all about the formula: calories in < calories used = weight loss.

Whoa Nelly.

I so completely disagree that I could barely keep myself from responding but, like I said, I've been burned, I don't have the energy for the fight and, I need way more space than the box provides to rebut such crazy talk.

Frequently I am asked the secret of my success - usually by an overweight friend or colleague eyeing me up and down hoping that I'll throw the magic pill their way. And sometimes, if I'm rushed, I'll smile sagely and say, "It's a BIG secret! Eat less, exercise more. Now I'm going to have to kill you" and walk on. But that truly is the least of my success. The truth is more complex - I had to find enough self worth to be able to begin taking care of myself.

Without belief that you and your body deserve the very very best life has to offer, you cannot succeed with the sense of sacrifice the "less food more movement" formula dictates. A person with low feelings of self worth will succumb to one temptation or another and, when life throws a curve ball, the whole thing will get thrown under a bus. It's hard hard work applying this formula every single day for the rest of your life. You've got to believe on a very deep level that you are absolutely worth this effort - because, if you don't, you won't be able to sustain it. I believe that completely.

Trying to find the part of myself that truly believed I was worth taking care of has been critical to my success. To do this, I first had to get past what my DD aptly calls the "itty bitty shitty committee" (IBSC) of rage, shame, fear, guilt and isolation who convened regularly in my head to keep positive thoughts out and angry self damaging emotion in - all in the name of self protection, of course. Getting past this team of experts is no easy task! I seduced them with the gentle practice of yoga one day and discovered they didn't, actually, rule the world! I liked the quieting of their whining voices and practiced yoga more committedly and more regularly in hopes of lulling them to sleep more often. It worked. But, holding a Brave Warrior pose has its limitations as a long term solution so, I added other practices I thought would help:

Daily Affirmation
"Today is the day I take care of myself because I am worthy. I am a unique person of great value to this world and today is the only day I have to treat myself with true love. I will do this by feeding my body healthfully, exercising my physical self, working towards a positive, serene spirit. This I do for love."

I recite every single morning whether I feel like doing it or not. Every morning.

Gratitude Journal
Every evening I find things for which I am thankful. And I write them down. This is not easy - some days are really crappy - filled with bad news, scary events, mean spirited people - days you'd rather forget. Forcing myself to find something good in every day is an engrossing act. Coming up with "I hit all green lights on the way home from the train" has the IBSC throwing up their hands in disgust - how can they compete with such abject cheerfulness?

Positive Things Journal
In my briefcase, I keep a journal of lists of 10 positive things. Every night on the train, I come up with a list of 10 Positive Things. Whatever strikes my fancy. 10 memorable places I've seen moose made up one list. 10 favorite teachers (going all the way back to the lovely Miss Kerr in grade 4) and 10 favorite 1 point snacks. It takes about 5 minutes to complete and ALWAYS leaves me smiling - neither thing can I say about the sudoku.

Thank You
Saying "thank you for doing such a great job" really rips the IBSC a new one. When one has low self worth manifested by a committee of angry, small minded ne'er-do-wells, one does not give a rat's patootie about how hard people around you are trying to make a life. But, seeking them out to say thank you means you start to notice how hard they're trying. I don't mean the slack jawed neanderthal behind the counter chatting personally with a customer while 12 people wait in line. I do mean the lady who cleans your office, the young couple who own your local coffee shop and remembers you like it black, the girl driving the ttc bus in rush hour, the guys mopping the floor outside the washrooms - all of these people are there. Everyday. Connecting with them invariably brings a smile to their face and one to your own heart.

It took a long time for these things to work with yoga to change the IBSC. But change they did. It's like someone took them out back and gave them new identities: forgiveness, serenity, optimism, gratitude. And, their new titles brought a new sense of value to my own inner world.

It's this valuing of myself that keeps me weighing and measuring my food. Keeps me adding new ways to get movemeny into my day to day life. Keeps me focussed on my goals. That lets me honour the commitments I've made to myself. That keeps me thin.

I don't ever ask myself "am I thin enough?" - I ask "am I worth this?" If the answer is yes, then the first question will take care of itself.

I was never unhappy because I was fat. I was fat because I was unhappy.

Gone - foods on the NO list

Thursday at lunch, a colleague and I both had tuna we were spreading on sandwiches . She remarked that she loved tuna but it took so long to prepare in the morning and I told her I just opened the can and ate it plain. No prep. Everyone looked at me like they'd never heard of such a thing in their life. "How could you eat it without mayonaisse?" they asked. "Isn't it dry?"
Well, the answer is I use dijon mustard on the bread and have layers of cukes and peppers to add some moisture but the truth is more simple: it doesn't matter if it's dry, I don't eat mayonnaise.

Mayonnaise is one of the things that I simply don't eat any longer and never think about eating. I remember a trip to Germany years ago where my DH and I discovered open market stands where you could buy fresh french fries with a side of mayo to dip them into. And so we did. Lots of times. I loved mayo - on anything. But, somewhere along the road of this journey, it met the axe.

I think of my recovery from obesity the way recovering alcoholics think about drinking - just don't do it - abstinence is critical. As a result, many foods and I have parted company. If you've read my earliest posts, you'll know they didn't all leave at the same time. I'm still dropping things at the side of the road - 2 months ago it was diet pop that got the boot. A mainstay of my fluid intake since the introduction of aspartame, I haven't touched the stuff for more than 2 months and don't plan to ever drink it again.

Lots of people say this approach can't work - that you HAVE to have foods you love as treats to keep balance - no one can live without cake. I know that a small piece of cake on Monday isn't going to ruin my life but the imbalance in my endocrine system is going to be felt for at least 48 hours and Tuesday afternoon will find me cruising the kitchen looking for another sweet treat. I've experienced this many times and believe that my "Just Say No" approach is the one reason I am seldom hungry and have few, if any, cravings.

But, you can't drop things all at once. It's taken my 4 1/2 years to streamline my diet to the 95% healthy one I have now. It took 2 years to get rid of deep fried foods - eliminating offenders one at a time, replacing things with low fat alternatives then pitching them too. That's been the approach since day one - reduce, substitute, remove. And then say no.

So, what's GONE? My colleagues were shocked to find that mayonnaise and I were no longer on speaking terms and were keen to hear about my self imposed dietary restrictions. I was having trouble listing them, so I decided to do it here for my own benefit:

• cream - I used to use 18% in my coffee - I reduced it several times before getting to black 2 years ago
• sugar - substituted with Splenda for a year or so then stopped using it - in everything. Yes, you can eat cereal without anything sweet in it - I've done so for 3 years
• potato chips - previously my absolute favorite snack - a 200g bag just for me please. There was no way to reduce the volume I ate so I tried low fat baked varieties - meh. Now I don't touch them at all and haven't thought about them for over a year
• white flour - it's EVERYWHERE!! Took 2 years to eliminate it - first through substitution of whole wheat where possible - now, the bread I eat (rarely) is 75% grain, pasta is whole grain, I don't eat processed foods so I don't worry about where it's hidden - I stay away from the stuff like a recovering cocaine addict stays away from her white powder of choice
• butter, margarine, mayonnaise - gone
• chocolate - unless it's a rare square of Lindt 85% dark - I don't bother thinking about it and haven't for 2 years
• chewy candy wine gums, jujubes, gummy bears - no matter what percentage of "real juice" they're made of - they're sugar and I don't need them
• juice - not counting the ounce or two of sugar free cranberry in my cosmo, I no longer drink it and don't miss it. I used to get up thirsty in the middle of the night so I'd stumble to the fridge and drink 8 oz of Orange Juice in a single gulp. That stopped 4 years ago - now I keep a water glass beside my bed.
• baked goods - in eliminating cookies, cakes and pies from my diet, I've discovered a surprising truth - unless it's home made of the finest ingredients, it just doesn't taste that great. In self defence, I don't bake and haven't for 6 months.
• syrup, jam, canned fruit - I canned my own peaches, raspberries and cherries for years. Stopped in 2007 - don't touch the stuff, too much sugar.
• take out - once upon a time, DH and I ate KFC EVERY Friday night. Haven't touched the stuff in 2 years although I'd be lying if I said the scent of it didn't make me want to eat a bucket on my own! I no longer eat any fast food - not even soup at Timmie's (makes me feel ill afterwards). If stuck without food near a Food Court, I'll get an undressed Greek salad with a chicken souvlaki spear at the ubiquitous Greek place.
• pop - my most recent break up - who'd have thought a 25 year relationship could be over so fast? 2 months and counting
• ketchup and relish - replaced with dijon and olive tapenade 2 years ago. A very grown up taste!
• bacon, salami, pepperettes - food I grew up on! Decided to eliminate them a year ago much to DHs dismay!

And so on.

What's stayed? Wine (red or white) and ales - especially dark brews like Guinness. Licorice - daily - I'm seriously addicted to real, black licorice. These are probably the only "empty calories" left in my day to day diet. I added skim milk lattes a few years ago (I drink my daily coffee black) - triple shot grandes - 2 decaf/1 regular - heaven in a cup. I also eat a dried raspberry, cherry and blueberry blend with a serving of almonds - dried fruit are high in sugars but these compensate with anti-oxidant properties and other nutritive benefits. Red meat - couldn't survive without steak. Robust cheeses - the kind that puts hair on your chest. Hummus,tzatziki and peanut butter - sometimes right from a spoon but more often with baby carrots. Every vegetable known to mankind. Every form of mustard. Any variety of fresh fruit - no questions asked. Grains morning, noon and night.

It's a full diet that fills me up, powers me down the road and restores me while I sleep. This, after all, is what I need and want from food. I don't miss what's gone but am happy, now, to have revisited the reasons I sent them packing.

Invisible

My friend first introduced me to the sad fact of "invisibility" a decade ago. 10 years older than I, she remarked quite candidly that she was starting to feel invisible as she reached her late 40s. Tall and lithe with the grace of carriage earned at the barre of traditional ballet, she had always had a physical presence that made people notice her. Suddenly, she knew she wasn't turning heads any longer. I listened to her lament and pettily thought it had more to do with her now matronly haircut and over-sized clothes she favoured than any loss of physical attractiveness but later, on my own, I felt my own pangs of longing. It had been many, many years since I, then 39, had been visible to others.

Some of us crave invisibility - and use our weight as an effective barrier against unwanted attention but that isn't me. An extravert who was a pretty child with a talent for acting and a clever wit, I grew up blessed with many friends and suitors. High school was fun for me - academically gifted, I was also naturally flirtatious and at more at ease with boys than girls. I had many dates, was a school captain and popular leader. The young woman that I was would not have been able to fathom a time when she became invisible.

But more problematic than being invisible to others was that I have been, for a long time, invisible to myself.

Children, stress, work, life - all converged to wear me down and food kept me going. As I gained weight however, I did not really see myself as fat. I became invisible to myself first. Like many people, I use what other people look like as a benchmark of how I looked. I didn't see myself as fat because I could always find someone fatter than I - they were fat, I was ok. I didn't consider that other people might have been using me as their own benchmark!!!

So - I was invisible to myself - truly did not think I was "that bad" even though every year brought a larger size of clothing (and, unbeknownst to me, sizes were getting more generous all the time - some of my 18s were probably 22s in 1978 terms!). Everytime I looked in the mirror, I saw curves not rolls. I saw cleavage, not fat. I saw myself as healthy, not obese. I didn't weigh myself so had no number to think about. I had photos, but quickly destroyed most of them as they caught me "at a poor angle" or "having a bad hair day"! It's startling to me now how long I went without really seeing what was there in front of me.

And now, I continue to have the very same issue. As of today, I have lost 77.2 lb. I am wearing size 2 capri pants and an XS sweater. My girls have deserted me and I'm wearing a tank top instead of a bra - trust me, no one will notice! My underwear is sized small. My rings have been re-sized, my bracelets are too big and, when I look into the mirror, I have the eerie sensation of my grandmother (who was a very tiny woman and whom I now clearly resemble) looking back at me. But - I don't see myself as thin. I am back to the old habit of looking at other woman for comparison - "ah, she's really tiny, I am not thin". It's not about being thin enough. It's not about wishing I were thinner. It is, crazily, about still being invisible to myself. I know people have poor body images but is it possible to have NO body image?

I don't know how to overcome this. On every intellectual level I know I am thin. But I don't see it. I worry that this may have a long term impact on my weight maintenance so I am cautiously beginning a daily weigh in as a way to monitor slips. I am looking for ways to help me see myself realistically and am hoping I get there soon. It's a very strange struggle.

Of interest though is that I am no longer invisible to others. DH is particularly proud to tell me my trip through the pub to the ladies room turned a few appreciative heads and I'm back to fending off unwanted compliments from strange men the worst of which was "I don't want you to leave but I look forward to watching you walk away" from some half drunk sleeze ball at Union Station - gross. This I don't mind - I'm still an attention hog (hence the blog) and the flirty high schooler in me feels resuscitated - but I do need to get over being invisible to myself.

Love thyself

Recently, while listening to a good friend describe her agony as she watches her diabetic daughter kill herself with food and denial, I had an epiphany. We try to kill things we hate: spiders building nests in the crown molding of the living room, mice invading the kitchen, mosquitoes buzzing around our ears and removing chunks of our bodies. These things we kill because we truly find them despicable, ugly, nasty and wrong. We hate them.

I knew when I was 221 lb that I was an unhealthy weight - I wasn't born yesterday - I know those french fries and Mars bars, fried egg and bacon sandwiches and 200g bags of dill pickle chips were bad for me the same way I know my head won't go through a windshield in a fetching way and that smoking is a chemical wasteland for my lungs and other organs. I've been raised in a culture bombarded with health information so I knew everytime I gobbled down another piece of carrot cake I was doing myself harm - I was killing myself.

It has taken a long time for me to understand that I was killing myself because I found myself to be despicable, ugly, nasty and just plain worng. Just like a mosquito. A really fat mosquito.

Don't get me wrong - I wasn't a writhing mess of self loathing - my suicide plan was well hidden - but everytime I looked in the mirror and saw my big soft belly flow over my pants, I would sigh in disgust. If others were engaged in chit chat about various body parts, I would roll my eyes and declare I hated my thighs, despised my hair, had ugly hands with broken nails - all negative. Trying on clothes in a trendy shop - hours of self loathing and despair. "I hate how big my butt looks in these jeans." "I hate that I am so fat I need a size 18 and this store stops at 16." "I hate myself."

Why on earth would anyone do anything nice for something they hate?

I wouldn't offer a mouse pooping in my pantry a warm bed and tiny glass of merlot. The beautiful spider webs and their diligent owners get no eviction notice - they get the abrupt end of a kleenex and a quick vacuum into oblivion.

If I hate myself - why would I do anything nice for me?

Learning to love myself has been a huge part of this journey. To LOVE my thunder thighs (man they can run!), to LOVE my beautiful blue eyes, to LOVE my raucous laugh that can wake the dead and my LOUD voice. To REFUSE to engage in putting myself down - if the conversation turns to a hatefest of body parts, I REFUSE to join in. I look in the mirror every day and tell my body I LOVE it. Yes - losing almost 80lbs means I have one whack of extra skin smooched around my belly - maybe I'll have that removed someday by a good looking surgeon (dream BIG!) but in the meantime - I LOVE that it's no longer full of fat and that a good foundation garment will do wonders! I LOVE my hair, I LOVE the way the tendons on my neck are visible. I LOVE my single chin - lonely though it may be. I LOVE the shape of my biceps and appreciate the job my triceps are doing holding those chicken wings in! I LOVE the shape of my calves - oh my they are sexy in heels! I LOVE my calloused, neuroma riddled feet and thank them for hauling me around all these years.

I love myself. And we take care of the things we love - grandma's Christmas china, our favourite cashmere sweater, our pets, our children and, ultimately ourselves.

I love myself. I will take care of myself.

We take care of the things we love.

Running with it.

About 5 years ago, I read an article in Chatelaine or Canadian Living magazine about a woman who, at 45 (my age then) decided she was sick of being overweight and took up running, lost at least 50 lbs and ran a half marathon. I read every word of her story, marvelled incredulously at her ability to set running a half marathon as a goal for herself - worried about the condition of her knees, skeptically looked for signs of insanity in the photo of her taken in full on running gear. The nasty person inside of me doubted the details, told me it was impossible and mocked my jealousy of someone who, seriously, had to be joking. Who takes up running at 45?

A year later, I started running. I had just begun this journey and was dedicated to my walking program but sometimes I needed to walk farther than I had time for so, I ran a bit of it to speed it up a little. My 15 year old border collie was up for it but my heart and lungs sure weren't. I could manage about 1/3 km before taking a km long break - maybe running 1 km in total over the 4 km distance. Those were heady times - even in the inevitable post-run asthmatic haze that sent me wheezing to the couch, I relished the memory of running those wee distances; I felt, for a brief flash of time, like a kid again.

But I wasn't a kid. I was an obese 46 year old with severe asthma, abused knees and a bum hip - I wondered if running "for real" was even possible. My misplaced pride kept me from seeking professional help at the Running Room so I just kept adding a little more until running a full km wasn't the end of the world. I told my doctor I was "running" - she had the grace not to ask too many probing questions but added another inhaler and suggested massage therapy and both helped.

Once I moved to Ontario where my asthma was more controlled, I even started running in the daylight. To this point, a year into my metamorphosis to "runner", I had only run in the dark. Embarrassed by my technique? Worried about fat rolls spilling over spandex pants? Not wishing to startle the neighbours? I'm not sure of my reasoning - I just know that I ran spring and fall and only after dark that first year and it took monumental courage to venture out during the daylight hours!

It took more than 3 years of running spring and fall to run a consistent 4 kms. But I was running! I started reading more about it and took the suggestions for pre and post run nutrition and exercise to heart. I lost more weight and running became easier. I started some new medications and got my asthma under control. I over did it while trying to increase my distance and suffered my first ever athletic injury - and worked through that and ran some more. This year, I ran through the winter for the first time ever and plan to tackle summer's humid swelter box by getting up at 5 am. And, recently, after all of this forward motion, I signed up for a half marathon - the Toronto Waterfront - Sept 27th.

This morning, I ran an easy 12km in an hour. While on vacation last week, I logged more than 30 km - DH riding with me on his bike to keep me from getting lost (and to take completely unnecessary "action shots" like the one at the right!).

It isn't always easy to lace up the shoes and get out the door. But like every part of this journey, I've added it so slowly that, without even noticing it, running is simply a part of my life. I continue to feel like a kid when I run. I also feel like I'm an athlete - ME, an athlete!

And I feel like revisiting my skeptical self from 5 years ago to let that sad, yearning woman know that it IS possible to set a crazy goal like running a half marathon at any age and meet it - no matter how long it takes to do so.

Vacation Alert...

That's what my auto-responder is set to at work this week - a notice to everyone that I won't be answering their emails until my return to routine. And vacationing I am - in Savannah, Georgia at the moment savouring the sunny southern comfort and clear blue skies. Loving my grandson and my daughter, spending some relaxed time with DH - not rushing around on a Saturday trying to squeeze all of life into a single car ride.

Sometimes I think we all need a Vacation Alert message to pop up in our brains while we're actually on vacation. Why do we think that we can "fall off the wagon" for a week while we're away from home? Why do we think we deserve or need a vacation from our healthy lifestyles and choices? Why do these myriad changes we're trying to make feel like their own form of work once we're away from home? It's not work - it's life. Whether we're home or not.

A couple of times this week I've popped a homemade praline (7000 cal, 680g fat and 1 g fibre! You get the idea!!) in my mouth with the pre-thought of "it's okay, I'm on vacation" but, truly, that's the wrong message! I can't afford to take a vacation from my health. There is no justification to allow a vacation to interfere with eating thoughtfully! I don't NEED a vacation from my usual nutritious diet.

So - I'm changing my praline moments to something more accurate and sustainable. I've run more than 20 kms on this trip, biked for 3 hours around old Savannah yesterday, spent an hour practicing yoga on the beach (and have the gazillion bug bites to prove it too), biked an hour tonight on the surf line of the beach - all in all, I've maintained a healthy exercise program and there is room in my intake for a praline because I haven't overeaten elsewhere. I have consumed a healthy diet and there is room in a healthy diet for a homemade praline.

So - I can have it if I want it. If it's worth it (homemade pralines Georgia style are sssooooo worth it!) and if there's room. Not because I'm on vacation.

Back to the beach.

Love Letter to WW

I remember joining WW the first time - a balmy spring day in 1990 - so encouraged by the leader's success and promise, I walked the whole way home - 3.2 km - the farthest I had walked since 1984. I embraced the pre-points program with gusto - losing an admirable 63 pounds in total. I was young, it was fast and I was definitely "On A Diet."

"On a diet" meant no to many things - regardless of WWs mantra that ALL things are possible on the plan, there are still many things that didn't fit in very well. SO - substitutions were the order of the day. I still have more recipes for desserts using sugar free pudding, graham wafer crumbs and fruit than anyone will ever need on this earth. I know how to pretend a rice cake is a pizza crust and cover it with fat free spaghetti sauce and low fat cheese. Or, better yet - Molly McButter and garlic salt - yummy - mouthwatering. I've dipped carrots into tasteless fat free dressings, eaten cups of air popped popcorn trying to pretend it wasn't styrofoam in my mouth, eaten salty, turkey wannabee hot dogs - all in the name of losing weight.

I was constantly hungry. Lots of research studies have shown that sugar substitutes trick our bodies into thinking it's sugar thus stimulating the same craving for sugar as the real stuff does. Rice cakes, in addition to being utterly tasteless, are a high GI food - quickly digested stimulating insulin production and creating yet another craving. There was little support from WW around adding nutrients and calories for exercise - 4 step aerobic classes a week took their needs from what nutrients I had in my system leaving little for health - no wonder I was starving all the time! Constantly watching the clock, constantly craving every bit of food within sight - always thinking about my next meal before my current one was done. A horrible way to live!

And what about my health? Other research is pretty clear on the risk of food substitutes - what is in "Molly McButter" anyway? I don't want to think of the possible long term damage done to my organs by eating all those chemicals used to make fake food taste sorta real. All that aspartame (no Splenda yet in view!), fillers, preservatives, bulk - all that emptiness - a diet built on man made chemistry - not that of the earth!

As long as I kept vigilant about ignoring my hunger - I was okay. But it got to be too much work. I was exhausted from my hunger. And, I quit. Cold Turkey. No gentle weaning - simply said "enough!"

Today's WW is different. I don't agree with all of its principles - I still don't believe in "a little piece of cake" (there's no such thing) or using a few points each day for "treats". I need every point for nutrients thanks. I'm a fat chick in recovery - there is no room in my diet for a daily infusion of sugar substitutes or those 100 cal packs of junk food. Nope - like an addict, I say no. NO. Everyday - NO.

But I love the simply filling foods. I use the simply filling foods for my daily points - at least 85% of my daily points come from the simply filling list. Those nutritious, low calorie, high nutrient foods from the earth - nothing fancy - nothing premade - just good grains, vegetables, fruits, dairy and proteins. And big portions. Since eliminating so much junk from my diet and sticking to WWs filling foods in portion controlled point sizes, I am rarely hungry. I haven't had a craving for 6 months. Not a one.

I love the insistance on vitamin supplements and oil intake. The reminder to go slow and steady. The 10% goal and the 5lb stars. All lovely stuff!

I also love the online tools - so simple to use. So fast - so accurate! So adaptable. As WW continues to move me down in daily points, I continue to override it to what I want my DPs to be with no problems. Weekly WIs are private affairs and the site is quick to offer a "woot!" when the numbers are good. Monitoring APs is awesome - how motivating to rack up 14 APs even if there is no way I could physically eat that much! But knowing I had 14 APs yesterday encourages me to adjust my intake today to compensate for the protein and carbs needed to fuel those muscles in recovery.

Finally - WWs boards are a stellar support group to which I have access 24/7. There are some nasty places and sarcastic people to avoid - I haven't worked this hard on my positive outlook to engage in battle with a troll. But, the age boards are priceless for their knowledge, support, caring and friendship. Despite appearances to the contrary, I'm not good at talking about this journey in my real world. Having the relative anonymity of the 40s board through thick and thin (sorry, pun intended) is sublime.

I am so glad to have rediscovered the new improved WW. I am now a very big fan and believe absolutely that it is a key component in my recovery. One day at a time!

The Spirit Within

I have the nastiest little person living inside my head. Sometimes she is bigger than all of my world and can overpower me with one whispered remark - other times she is well hidden from sight - potentially invisible but her anger and ridicule are still there waiting for their moment to bully their way to the forefront.

For many years, this nasty little creature had open mic access to my very soul. She rose before I did - reminding me that had eaten too much at dinner the night before, admonishing me for my slothlike avoidance of exercise - suggesting, always, that I might as well eat too much and exercise too little because I wasn't really worthy of much better for myself. She really shone in the mirror - pointing out every unflattering lump and bump - a pulled shirt gaping at the bust line, pants digging in at the waistline of a soft abdomen, a sagging jaw line or bad hair moment.

She presented herself in other guises as well. Making any little mistake - say, cutting off some poor soul on the highway - was worth a lengthy bout of ruminating about my lack of perfection. Choosing a Thai restaurant for friends for dinner only to discover he's allergic to peanuts and she hates cilantro would weave an carpet of self doubt and incrimination that would blanket the evening. There was no escaping her - she came with me everywhere!

And, for the most part, I was the only one aware of her. Other people saw me as successful, happy, interesting and intelligent. A few victims of my sarcastic teasing might have seen a ghost of her now and then but, overall, I was fully functional. I, however, knew the truth about myself. I disliked myself intensely. I was not happy. I was feeding my anxieties and insecurities and fears with food that was making her more powerful and more angry.

I didn't know how to turn her off or, even, tune her out. I'd read plenty about negative inner voices and perfectionism but I hadn't a clue how to put what I'd read into action. Her voice kept reminding me that I was too far gone to recover so, what was the point? Have another slab of cake.

Until I tried yoga. That very first magical day when I pulled out the blue foamy mat and slid the dvd into the player. Suzanne Deason's calm voice assured me that I could try this new thing. The gorgeous Arizona desert setting seemed calm and safe to me. The lovely chubby woman performing the fully modified version of the practice encouraged me. So, I started.

Yoga has well studied and documented benefits - and I knew about them. What I didn't expect was the moments of quiet I experienced that very first day. I turned off the hum of the world, I turn my full attention inward and, lo and behold, I found the off switch of my inner voice. In those early weeks, I cared less about the awkwardness of my poses and most about the quieting of that voice. Knowing there WAS an off switch encouraged me to find other ways to use it more often. I started a gratitude journal - focussing only on the positives in my life. I started a health pledge to myself and start every day with its recitation. I started to acknowledge with thanks all the people my life touches in a day - I've yet to meet a ttc subway conductor, for example, who isn't both pleased and completely surprised to be sincerely thanked on a busy Tuesday morning! I forgive myself for my humaness, for my lack of perfection, for my particular quirks and foibles.

I have found the keys to turning her off. When I weaken and she comes back, I use the tools of calmness and quiet to shut her down. Of all the things I've accomplished on this journey, overpowering the nasty one in my head has been the most rewarding and I will celebrate that at the start and end of every day.

Current Pictures

Today I am celebrating a 70 lb loss - I tried to envision what 70 lbs would look like so I googled images and came up with photos of rather largish, muscle bound dogs; newly thin people boasting of their own 70 lb losses - including a beefcake pose on a gay pride website - and various and sundry ebay articles with shipping weight of, you guessed it, 70 lbs. Nothing that looked like 70 lbs. I want to see it - perhaps a trip to the grocery store is in order - 70 lbs of butter or three 20 pound turkeys with a 10 lb pot roast thrown in for good measure. I am a visual person - I really need to see the weight that's gone.

Instead, I had DH take a few photos. One was yesterday - a random shot during Easter preparations taken by my DD. Caught in the act - snagging a nibble from a tray - probably not counted but definitely enjoyed. Today's pic is taken as I returned home from work. Later I will take these photos and load them up with older photos and have a good look at the changes. This is the only way for me to fully understand that there is 70 lbs less of me now than there was 4 years ago. 7 - 0. seventy. That's a lot and I am never going to let it return. That's a promise.

No fat chicks...

I was asked about the name of my blog - someone wondered if the name was a little derogatory and, indeed it is. My first exposure to "fat chick" came from a book "No Fat Chicks" by Terry Poulton - a Canadian woman whose battle against obesity lead to a Biggest Loser style series in Chatelaine magazine where she publicly shed an amazing amount of weight only to regain it once the attention died down. Her message of big business and celebrity cutlure conspiring against woman by making every woman hate her body rings with truth. Her title comes from a bumper sticker on an 18 wheeler operated by an obese slob of a man who was oblivious to the double standard of his expectation for company in the sleeper cab of his rig! I liked this book - it did ring true and I recognized myself as a Fat Chick - the kind of matronly looking 40 something with a mini-van and a purse full of crackers and handi-wipes who was kidding herself if she thought those wolf whistles were intended for her.

A Fat Chick has lots of issues - choose from a possible list: low self esteem, an ugly wardrobe, sensible hairstyle, clothes that don't fit, constant hunger, exhaustion from keeping up with the daily grind, shortness of breath from climbing a flight of stairs, looking for food rewards when none else is available, invisibility, sensible shoes because heels make your aged knees ache, minor hypochondria, a sense of life passing by. I had all of these and more - I was definitely a Fat Chick.

The reality is, I still am - because, this Fat Chick got to be fat through eating too much of the wrong stuff and not exercising enough. Not taking care of her spirit; letting the exhaustion and the kids and the mortgage and the boss take control of her life. I know now that fighting against the Fat Chick inside of me is going to be a daily battle. I know that the Fat Chick is inside of me, waiting for me to slip up - to let the exhaustion and self doubt and low self esteem back into my life, to seek reward and happiness from a slab of carrot cake, to allow the nasty inner voice to open her sneering lips again with acrimony and negativity. I know that this can happen - and so, I wake up every morning and pledge a day of "sobriety" to myself. I start with positive affirmations and gratitude. I offer thanks to a body that has taken so much abuse but still gives so much back to me. I plan my exercise for the day. I think about the possible pitfalls and how I'm going to manage them. Like an alcoholic who is always in recovery, always measuring success one day at a time, I too, am looking at this process as a commitment I must make everyday for the rest of my life.

And thus, no matter how thin I am, I recognize I am always going to be a Fat Chick inside. I will always stand guard to make certain she stays there, too!

During Photos - 183 and holding, holding, holding

I felt great at 183 lb. and enjoyed getting back into all the activities I loved so much. It's no accident that the majority of the photos taken while I was that weight were taken outside, hiking in the mountains - in Alberta, Montana, Arizona, Utah- wherever there is elevation, that's where I want to be. My church exists above the treeline. After my daughter Emily died, it was during a trip to the Kananaskis region of SW Alberta that I started wanting to live again - that's how powerful being in the mountains is to me. And I don't mean looking at them from a roadside stop - I mean getting out and climbing them. Weighing 221 lbs had made climbing the side of a mountain very challenging and, frankly, unsafe. Shedding 38lbs reopened my soul to me - a door I never want to close again.

I am somewhat unnerved by these photos - I now weigh more than 35 lbs less than I did in any of these photos but, to me, I look exactly the same. I know that I can remove those hiking shorts (above) without undoing the zipper. And those jeans were size 14 while the ones I'm currently wearing are a 6. Of course, my hair is longer and I'm 3 years older now - but physically, I see myself as looking the same. I wonder if it's because I started loving myself then and what I see in my mind is the happiness in me that is the same rather than the physical shape that has changed? I don't know.

So - why didn't I just stay at 183? Why didn't I just shed the 9 that had crept back on and leave it at that? Ultimately, it still had to do with health. I was happy inside and happy with what I looked like but, happy or not, my BMI was still borderline obese and I want to be here to watch my grandson grow up. I am striving for physical health to match my mental health... and 183 lb simply isn't going to cut it.

I have to take some current pictures - or rather, get someone to snap a few or we'll be stuck with those awkward arms length shots favoured by clever teens and their facebook profiles. Lots more to talk about - to think about... I'll be back.

Before Photos

The digital camera age has revolutionized the number of photos taken in the world but the number actually saved and printed has diminished to almost nothing. It has also made editing and deleting unflattering photos possible before they ever see the light of day or a computer screen. I've spent 2 weeks looking for BEFORE pictures - there's a noticeable absence of them in the photo albums and cd's cluttering up the office!!

I feel sad about this! I know I was in the photos and I know I have deleted them. As a result, I feel like I am not present in my past - there is little photo evidence of me there! Kelly, a fellow WWer known as FIVEGEORGE42 has a tagline I love: "Jan 15, 2002 - The day I showed up to start living my life." - and the absence of photos of me over a 3 year period remind me that I wasn't showing up to live my life - I was there but I wasn't present in my own life. That has changed!

But, I do have a few photos at my heaviest and I share them with you now. These were all taken mid-year 2004 when we were living in Calgary. And they remind me of some good times - visiting the mountains, redecorating our house and travelling - too bad I deleted so many memories!

I was miserably unhappy. I had difficulty finding work in my field in Calgary and was bored witless at home. DH travelled often and spent more time at the Calgary airport than at home. I wasn't accustomed to the dry air and, like many Albertans, my asthma became out of control. Chinooks caused me migraines, ground squirrels chewing through the garden daily made me homicidal, killing frosts in August left me feeling inadequately prepared for prairie life - on and on and on - a virtual encyclopedia of negativity. The reality was, I was unhappy within myself. I didn't like me very much and there's nothing like a major change to your circumstances to bring the worst out in yourself.

These 3 pictures are of a woman who no longer exists. I didn't set out to change her - I didn't even know that she needed much changing!! But change she did - as much on the inside as on the outside and that will continue to be explored in this blog. Next post - "during photos" and, eventually, NOW!

Biting the proverbial bullet... back to WW.

The day I weighed 192 at the doctor's wasn't a complete shock. Those size 10 Levi's had long ago "shrunk" to a degree that left them relegated to the back of the closet. And my asthma was keeping me from walking briskly outside in the cold weather. And... well, lots of excuses but reality is, I wasn't entirely unprepared for the reality of those numbers on the scale.

I didn't own a scale at home. I once became so obsessed with weighing myself that I'd step on the scale as often as 4 times a day - even at work (I'm an RN, we have scales at work!) and the number on the scale would dictate my mood for the next few hours until I got back on the scale. I also expected the number to keep going down - even on maintenance. I was 117 on my 5'5" frame before I came to my senses and threw the scale and all related scale activity out the window. Like all recovering addicts - abstinence from the addictive activity took over - I even turned my back on the scale while weighing in at the doctor's office. I couldn't turn my ears off though - my physician liked to tell me my weight and ask me what I was going to do about it at every annual physical.

So - it wasn't a shock but, 192 was not a pleasant number. I left the doctor's office feeling defeated by my own appetite for life - I had significantly changed my diet - there was little in it that could be further eliminated. I had significantly increased my exercise - walking 5 km most evenings with DH and practicing yoga 2 times per week - I didn't know how I was going to find more time in the day for more fitness. It was discouraging but I knew I had to find a way to overcome the obstacles in order to be more healthy.

I joined Weight Watchers (WW) one week later. I had been a WW member in the past - starting at 183 lb 4 months after my youngest daughter was born - I took 5 months to get to goal (138 lb) then proceeded to lose another 21 lbs over the next few months. I loved the program and became a leader - back then you had to be 10 lb under goal to lead and I enjoyed the skinniness of 128 lb very much. So, I dieted hard to be that weight, became addicted to the scale, became too thin, then started to regain and, after 3 years of leading - decided it was all too much stress and quit.

I vowed I would never diet again - diets don't work. And, my success on WW did come from dieting. I didn't change my eating habits - just modified everything to accommodate it all within the diet. Used artificial sweetners, ate tons of low cal desserts, bought frozen processed meals by the cart full, cut my wine with soda (a sacrilege quite frankly), etc etc. Not a lot of lifestyle change going on and, I recall it very well, I was ALWAYS hungry. Never finished one "meal" without planning for the next. Never left a table feeling full. Always craved chips and chocolate bars... always checking the clock to see if it were time to eat again. Those were nasty days.

But - I had run out of options. Doing it on my own wasn't working and I needed to lose weight in order to get healthy. I needed some structure and external monitoring. My dear sister (DS) was enjoying her online WW so, on October 19, 2008, I signed up.

The year long plateau...

Weight loss wasn't an immediate goal of this process - taking back control of my life from the fridge, TV and couch were bigger concerns. But I did expect weight loss and got it - very, very slowly. The first 20 lbs took about a year - so slowly that no one noticed. But I felt better than I had in years; I actually have photos of myself from that period and very, very few from my heaviest. Finding size 16 hiking shorts that fit was a happy, happy day for me and a favorite picture of me at 200 is hiking up the top of a mountain pass wearing those very shorts.

Two things accelerated the process for the next 20 lbs:

First, we moved back to Southern Ontario from Alberta and chose a small town home over our previous rural lifestyle. Being able to walk outside in the winter on lighted sidewalks meant I could walk more - a favored form of exercise. Not freezing to death was also a pleasant change from those ferocious prairie winds.

Second, DH got a wake up call. A stressed out, obese executive prone to high blood pressure and doctor avoidance, he was denied mortgage insurance on our new house. The idea that he could leave me unable to provide for our family was the incentive he needed to make changes - so - he joined me on my health quest. Having a partner on this journey makes it 1/3 as difficult and twice as fun. Having a partner who is male is also a major pain in the butt...

DH lost 70 lbs in 6 months... sigh*

But - he did make my process easier - a walking partner, someone who read labels before he brought food into the house, someone who decreased his alcohol intake alongside mine, someone who thought twice about opening a bag of chips or cookies, and someone interested in the GI Diet.

The GI Diet (Rick Gallop) was our first attempt at structuring our meals thoughtfully. Prior to that, I was simply eliminating the "bad" and adding the "good". The premise of low and high GI foods and their effect on the body made sense to me. The principles and approach were easy for me to follow and I enjoyed the healthful food. I lost another 20lbs - getting myself to a low of 183. I felt great and looked great - bought a pair of size 10 Levi's - size 10!!! All that exercise meant lots of inches lost. I was deliriously happy... but I stayed at 183 for an entire year.

The GI Diet was very good - I still follow it even on Weight Watchers. But it doesn't worry too much about portion control and I'm a big big eater. A really BIG eater - I love LOTS of food - never been known to put a chip bag or cookie box back into the pantry. Portion size info on labels was meaningless to me - I ate what and when Iwanted and stayed at 183.

So I got used to it - by this time I had started running occasionally and was more intense about yoga. I looked great. I grew my hair out and got some funky glasses. I enjoyed life to the fullest.

Until I went to my doctor for an asthma check up and weighed 192lb.

That's one way to break a plateau.

One change at a time..

Making changes slowly means you take a long, long time to make a whole lifestyle change - I'm still on the journey 4 years later. Frankly, I'm running out of changes to make - not that I'm any where near perfection - but I am living the healthy lifestyle I once thought was impossible for me to adopt and the niggling changes left to make don't seem as critical.

So - changes were made: no french fries started it all. The next week - I gave up ice cream. Well, that was easy - I'm not a huge fan. Then, I added a daily serving of fresh fruit. Took away white bread and added whole wheat - then took that away and added multigrain - a year later I eliminated bread altogether. Added mini carrots - and cherry tomatoes. Added oatbran to my baking and cooked with Splenda - 18 months later - gave up baking then dessert. Switched to new potatoes - baked or boiled. Gave up sugar - that took a long, long time - started by eliminating store bought baked goods and later shifted to 85% cocoa chocolate bars, then avoided all candy - and stabilized my blood sugar. As the need for sugar faded away - I truly ditched it - gave up adding sweetners to anything - including breakfast porridge. And breakfast - I started by eating it! Toast and peanut butter, eggs and bacon, leftover pizza - at least it was breakfast - moved on to cereal - Mini Wheats or Cheerios but settled finally on All Bran - added almonds, skim milk - no sugar - no more pizza. Cheese was really hard - can't give it up altogether - but gradually stopped eating any kind of processed cheese - no more Cheez Whiz, Kraft singles, cream cheese - focussed on flavour - small bits of Manchego, 6 year old cheddar, gutsy chevres, gorgeous Rocheforte... and so on and so on.

None of this could have been done overnight - my body would have figured out that I was dieting and, my body already knew that diets don't work.

I also added exercise - one day - I decided to take up yoga as a way to get more movement into my life. I bought Suzanne Deason's Yoga Conditioning for Weight Loss (Gaiam). About 6 months later, I opened it and shoved it into the dvd player. I didn't say every change was immediate - just that once I make it, I stick with it. I started on the fully modified version and cursed the rolls of fat pinched beneath my ribs as I bent into a version of triangle pose. And I worked up a sweat and I tried hard. I was proud of myself but, more importantly, I concentrated so hard during yoga that I managed to turn off my nasty little inner voice and find a core of peace I didn't know existed inside of me! I got addicted to getting to that voice - truly a spirit quest and my yoga improved. Yoga stayed - I still work out to the same dvd but the moves I'm making now look and feel unrelated to my first attempts - plus - no rolls get in my way. And the peace - still there but much more accessible thanks to other things I added along the way - topics for another post.

This all took 3 years - this adding and subtracting and changing was a slow process - somehow, I managed to trick my body into not noticing that it was losing weight (albeit very slowly) or that it was missing anything. And things were working so well - my decades long fight with Irritable Bowel Syndrome was fading away, headaches were less frequent and less severe, I had more patience and more acceptance and I was feeling younger. I lost weight - almost 40 lbs - and hit a plateau. And that's another story for another post.

Welcome

Welcome to my blog - I hope those who stumble upon it find a little inspiration for their journeys but its main purpose is to help me, a fat chick with a lifetime of experience with obesity currently living in a thin body, to manage my own personal journey!

I've lost weight before and sometimes maintained it for years - but this time, my motivation was different. Rushing towards 50 with more speed than grace, I decided 4 years ago that my health was paramount and my actual weight and appearance secondary. So, this has been a journey towards health, not away from weight.

At 45, I weighed a lifetime high of 221 lbs. I was fit, sorta - able to haul backpacks up the sides of mountains and committed to nightly ambles down to the park with the dogs, I thought I was unfairly penalized by a familial weak metabolism and told my doctor so when I posted a 5 lb gain over the previous year's weight! Even as I was whining about my obese heritage, I knew I was kidding myself and that my extra weight was only hurting me and borrowing at high interest against my future self.

But diets don't work. I've been on diets and, seriously, they don't work. Asking a 45 year old woman who could polish off a 200g bag of crinkle chips with an entire tub onion dip before dinner to switch cold turkey to carrot sticks just isn't going to work for anyone for very long. Nope - diets don't work.

You have to make a "lifestyle change" - well - yes, I've heard that before! But, frankly, most lifestyle changes look an awful lot like diets!

So - how do you make a lifestyle change in a sustainable way? It takes time - lots and lots of time! And a commitment to moving forward. I decided to make one change at a time, live with that change for awhile then add another. I vowed that unless the change was harming me in someway, I would not go back to the old habit under any circumstance.

The first week - I gave up french fries. Those deep fried, delicious sticks of potatoey goodness - I love french fries. So, I stopped eating them. Still ate everything else - just stopped eating french fries. Within a few weeks, I stopped thinking about french fries and decided to move on to the next change.

In my next post, I'll remember some of the best changes I've made - hope you'll enjoy them too!