Traveling to Holland

I am writing again about my sweet Jeremy boy. He just went up to bed. I will clarify, he just went up to bed again. Brian put him to bed around 8, but he tends to wander down for extra cuddling time after Bekah falls asleep. 

It was a crazy day today and I feel a sense of days to come. We had to get up early (for us) to get Tucker, my parents' dog (one of them) to the vet. After that we stopped at Meijer (where I forgot, again, to buy white sugar). I remembered partway through Meijer that Bekah had a make-up class for dance. So we hurried home and then off to dance class. 

What I want to talk about, though, is something I heard on The Colbert Report. Brian and I are huge fans of the Daily Show and Colbert Report. We find we can get a sense of what's really going on if we watch these shows. 

One of the reasons I love these shows is because they have a lot of authors as guests. We are behind a few months, so the one we watched featured an author named Andrew Solomon. His book, Far From the Tree: Parents, Children and the Search for Identity.

It's really a book about people who have kids who are completely not like them, in good and bad ways. He calls them exceptional and that is the best way I can describe Jeremy. He is exceptional. He was an expected child but we weren't really expecting what we ended up with. 

Mr. Solomon described it this way--it's like you spend 40 weeks preparing to go to Italy. You buy the tickets, you learn the language, you study the culture, etc. Then, while you're on the airplane, the pilot comes on the PA and announces that you're actually traveling to Holland. 

It's quite a shock, to be preparing for parenting a kid that's like the ones you read about in books, only to find out that he's about as different as you can get from that. 

The idea of landing in a country other than the one for which you prepared can be jarring. The thing is, Holland is also quite beautiful. It has tulips and windmills and Rembrandt. Being Jeremy's parent has been like that for me. I landed in Holland kicking and screaming because it was so different than what I had expected. Now, since we have had a diagnosis and treatment plan, I'm starting to appreciate the different scenery. 

Jeremy will start kindergarten in a few days. I have been awash in anxiety about a hundred different things. It's overwhelming and I spent most of last night in tears. I know he's going to the best school, has the best teachers, best support staff, best principal. I know God has a plan for him. I know all of these things. I trust the system, I know I don't know everything.

But he is my little Dutch boy. How can I explain him adequately to his kindergarten teacher? How will I tell her that he hates group singing and loud noises, but talks loudly himself? I'm afraid if I try to give too much information that I'll be the "crazy" mom. I am fairly certain that each room gets one and it's the early-crazy-bird-gets-the-room mentality. 

We are dropping off supplies tomorrow and I'm really at a Los about what, if anything, I should say to her. Hum. Maybe I'll stay up until 2 AM worrying about it. That's probably the most direct route to a solution. 

Or maybe praying. Maybe that's the best one. 

A Little Something...

Not sure what to write about today. There has been some short fiction spinning in my head. Forgive me, it's raw and undeveloped. I am going to share a segment of it and then, as it forms I'll show how it evolves. 

I noticed right away. It's like watching a magnet being dragged across a TV set. My dream about returning to college, a recurring dream, was invaded by a snarly dragon. 

I clawed my way to consciousness and felt her on my pillow. Her pink, round face twitched every few seconds. Her chest rose and fell with a soft rhythm. Her blond hair, sticky with remnants of a lollipop, clung to her cheeks. She sucked her fingers intermittently, her eyelids fluttering slightly. 

Her dreams had a lot of dragons in them. Sometimes they were friendly but lately the dragons had started firebombing. She had been asking me a lot of dragon-related questions. I wasn't sure why the dragons were changing, but I decided I would ask her in the morning. 

I rolled out of bed and picked her up to walk her back to her room. 

I am not sure what this will turn into. It feels lame. 

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Yesterday was a very emotional day for me. Nothing substantial happened--it was a series of unfortunate events.

I woke up, got the kids and headed downstairs. I noticed that one of my dogs had urinated on the carpet. I wanted to clean it immediately. Unfortunately, the dogs have been doing this a lot lately and I was out of cleaning solution in the carpet cleaner. I went to fill up the reservoir and the sink was full of dishes. I had to set aside the reservoir and load the dishwasher.

Except the dishwasher was full of dirty dishes. So I had to unload it. In trying to put something away in the utensil drawer, I noticed that an errant piece of the oven door was preventing the drawer from opening. So I had to fix the oven door.

The oven door is wonky for reasons I don't quite understand. I need to call someone to come out and look at it. I use the oven at least 3 times a week, even in the summer. I need my oven (and by extension, my oven door) to be functional. Repairing the door can be tricky and usually is a two-person job. The only people I had around were small so they couldn't help.

After about 15 minutes of wrestling with the door, I was able to get it together enough that nothing extra was sticking out and preventing the utensil drawer from opening. I continued to unload the dishes, but on doing so I noticed that the trap in the dishwasher was full of junk.

I spent about 10 minutes cleaning all the gunk and food from the trap. Understand, I cook most of my meals from scratch and we eat 98% of our meals at home. It's kind of a freakish point of pride but it's also a necessity (and healthier for us and cheaper). I can sometimes run my dishwasher 3 times in one day! The trap needed to be cleaned so that the next load would actually get clean.

I cleaned the trap, reassembled the dishwasher, loaded and started running the dishwasher and then (and only then) was I able to fill the reservoir for the carpet cleaner. I then had to use the carpet cleaner to clean the spot in the toy room.

At this point, I still hadn't even gotten the kids breakfast! My plan was to take Doug to get his haircut (this would be attempt #3), run to the store for a few ingredients and then home. In between all of the crazy tasks, it started raining. I think most normal people would scratch their day and think of fun, inside activities to do.

The problem was that we had an inside day the day before. It was too hot to go to the park (Doug gets overheated very quickly), so we tried to get his haircut (unsuccessfully) and went to the grocery store. I couldn't spend all day inside with everyone or else I was going to lose my mind. I also had plans for a quadruple recipe of waffles and I needed two or three more ingredients to make it work.

Out into the rain we went. Doug's haircut was successful, we went to Jewel, got home, had lunch, put Doug down for a nap. I was exhausted, so I closed my eyes for a bit. I awoke in time to get Doug up for his speech therapy appointment. I deposited the big kids in my room with the TV on and forbade them to come downstairs until after the therapist left.

Once she was gone, I figured I would work out. Doug was a bit fussy (which makes working out difficult--I usually aim for working out when he's asleep) and I even got short with him. This resulted in him spilling an entire cup of milk on the floor. The one blessing here is that the carpet cleaner was all ready to go! I cleaned it up and got back to working out....only to remember that I had no white sugar in the house. (Throughout the day, to add to my mental clutter, Jeremy used only two volumes of speaking--loud and louder. I could not convince him to quiet down and it made it difficult to concentrate.)

I have been consuming and using a great deal less white sugar than I ever have before. I do not care for the taste of stevia or other sweeteners. I usually bake one cake or a batch of cookies every other week. I don't want the aftertaste of stevia when I'm enjoying something I don't enjoy every day. The problem is that I'm out of the habit of buying sugar (since I use it infrequently).

So here I am, at the beginning of a workout, realizing that I am missing a key ingredient to my waffles. After making two trips to two different grocery stores in two days. Seriously!!! I sent a profanity-laced text to Brian about it. I wasn't angry with him, I was angry with myself. I continued to work out the best I could, which meant I held Doug in my arms for about 20 minutes of it.

As I was finishing, I remembered that I had some packets (quite a few) of Sugar in the Raw. Aha, I said to myself! I am saved. I sent a new text to Brian with the solution and got to work on the waffles. Please note that I had a chocolate long john from Jewel that day (yesterday) and so I didn't want to eat waffles as well. I am pleased to say that I made myself a separate dinner of eggs, avocados, black beans and quinoa. Not the best-looking meal, but no sugar and lots of good protein and fat.

I can tell you with assurance that I was probably the worst mom ever yesterday. I yelled at my kids, I lost my temper, I (might) have kicked a toy or two. I am not writing about yesterday because I am trying to convince you that I'm the worst mother, though. I am writing about yesterday because I want you to know that I have grace for yesterday. My kids are not upset with me today. All was forgotten because I still made the waffles. I still held them and kissed them good night and did all the things I'm supposed to do.

I'm not trying to convince you I should win an award. I love being a mom, even in all the messiness. I love every bit of it. I try to remember, though, that even though people find ways of turning their passions into jobs they still have really bad days. Loving what you do doesn't mean I become a Stepford mom. I am human and have foibles and shortcomings and all of that. I am fortunate that on the really shitty days, I have so many really great days to balance them out. I have been working so hard at being more active with my kids! I have been working hard to make more time for them and less for myself. But I have been running on fumes for a while. The running helps because I get away and get recharged. I am hoping that there will be more of that on a preemptive basis in the future.

Of all the jobs I've held, being a mom--stay at home or otherwise--is the absolute most draining, most stressful, most chaotic job I've ever done. I wish I could undo all of the things I did and said yesterday but I can't. I can, however, work harder to make sure that before it happens again, I have a good long stretch of days with no temper, with no angry words or toys being kicked or voices being raised. I am fortunate that I can't be fired from this job. It's one I will always hold and so I have an infinite number of times to fall down and get back up. (It's really a bonus and a drawback to the job.)

Everyone in my house is asleep right now except for me. My body is aching, I have a headache, my back hurts and I need a shower. I could just lie down on the couch, turn on the TV and call it a day. But there are dishes in the sink, the laundry room floor is hidden under piles of laundry and the kitchen is a disaster area. Literally. FEMA just called. We have a day tomorrow that is packed with fun stuff for all of us. If I go to bed tonight with the mess downstairs, I know my anger and impatience will creep into my mood and destroy the day.

I will be exhausted after all the work ahead of me, but that can be cured with a couple of strong cups of coffee. Luckily, they serve those where I'll be first thing in the morning. So off I go, to clean like a fiend (and watch Project Runway) so that we can have a glorious day of family fun tomorrow.

I'll be sure to tell you all about it.

Infectious Disease

There were a lot of things about marriage for which I wasn't prepared. I could write a book. One of them goes to the core of who I am as a person, and that is that I'm incredibly empathic.

I recently started reading a book entitled Weight Loss for People Who Feel Too Much.The author postulates that for people like me, weight loss is more than just calories in being less than calories out. She claims that because we spend so much time absorbing the energy of the people around us, it causes us to be less able to lose weight.

The book was a little out there, I'll admit. I didn't read the whole book because she was asking for some pretty serious commitments of activities to which I couldn't commit. I will say that the premise was out there but I could relate.

I mention all of this because being empathic especially has an impact on my marriage. My husband is my best friend, the father of my children, the person with whom I'm spending the rest of my life. It would be insane to think that our moods wouldn't collide, intersect and mix together.

I am by nature an optimistic person. I will admit that over the past 5 years, my nature has taken quite a pounding. It's been an unfortunate series of events on all sides. The one thing that has saved us as a couple has been our mutual trust in God. We know that, no matter what, He is absolutely in control.

The problem is that we are two mega-control freaks. We know that He is in control but we are freaked out that we don't know the details, that there's no overlying blueprint to our lives that we can see, touch, feel. It has dogged our good natures at every turn. Specifically during the months of August and September, we struggle and grapple with what is going to happen to our family.

Every year, I do my best to shield my optimism against Brian's pessimism (he would say realism). It is mostly a losing battle, one that is waged in in my heart and mind. My mood this month has been in good shape because I've been working out and eating well. I am struggling to get enough sleep and that has worked against me. I am also struggling to get enough spiritual feeding.

And that is when doubt and fear creep in, slowly, subtly, peeling away the shield I have up. Today has been one of those days, when I am feeling low and discouraged not because of circumstances in my life but because of the circumstances in Brian's life. True, there's a lot of intersection. True, we are working toward common goals that are seeing common setbacks. The point is that I am not required to be discouraged by the contract of marriage.

It's a tough thing, to keep one's identity when married. Tougher still when your lives have been battered by multiple storms. I know, in my heart of hearts, that everything is going to be okay. It always has been. I'm not joking when I say that in the times we are most desperate, things just show up for us. It has not always made sense but it has always been on time (not always ours, but on time in a cosmic sense).

So it is that I find myself close to tears. My heart is breaking because I can't erase the doubt and fear clouding my husband's heart. I want so much to help him get past his fear. I want so much to help him see the future that I see for our family. I don't know exactly what it looks like, but I know that it resides solidly in God's hands. I don't depend on my husband to pay our bills. I don't depend on my husband to meet all my needs. That would be so completely unfair to him. I depend on God. I see God as the provider.

It's a tough thing to grapple with at midnight. Perhaps I'll sleep on it and see how we're feeling in the morning.

Born to Run

I have participated in several dozen running events, from 5K to full marathons. At every single one of these runs, Bruce Springteen's song, Born to Run, is played liberally. That, along with Eye of the Tiger, are two songs I always expect to hear.

I was on an overnight this past weekend. I didn't get to move as much on Friday as I wanted to. A friend was going to run around Lake Geneva (approx. 22 miles) and invited anyone who wanted to along with her. I was unable to due to time restraints and also because I'm not there yet. One thing I did notice, though, was I felt slumped on Friday. I didn't have the usual pep in my step, my mood was a little lower and I just didn't feel like I was firing on all cylinders.

Inspired by my friend's trek around Lake Geneva (it really is beautiful, you are literally walking through people's backyards and the houses and yards are unbelievable), I decided to come home and try to run a bit. Well, really I took Bekah to dance class, went grocery shopping, took her to a birthday party and started working on dinner. Then I thought I would try running.

Unfortunately, the kids had different ideas. I think they missed me and didn't want to see me leave again, so they begged to go with me. I tried to tell them that I was going to go for a long walk. I tried to explain that I wasn't going to be able to carry them or hold them, that they were going to have to walk. They assured me all of this was fine.

It turned out to be the longest 2.21 miles in my life!! I had to let go of the idea that it was going to be a fitness walk. They were not interested in walking fast or hurrying up. They were, however, interested in seeing how many twigs, pinecones and other flotsam they could pick up on the way home. Jeremy ended the walk with quite a collection.

They begged me, at various points, to take a break, to stop, to slow down, etc. I knew in the back of my mind that stopping meant we would never, ever get home. That was not an option. So we soldiered on. It was quite an adventure.

Yesterday, I wanted to go running. They wanted to go with me. I told them it was going to be the same thing. They decided to ride their bikes. Okay, I thought, at least if they're riding their bikes I can still jog a bit. Except that it was hot and humid yesterday and I didn't bring any water. We had a few spurts of me jogging along behind them, but it took a lot of cajoling, encouraging, prodding and pushing to get them to finish. I had the same principle in mind as the day before--just keep moving. I've run enough races to know that stopping to rest may seem like the sane option but in the end it breaks up momentum and ends up making the race last longer.

Mondays are always tough. I enjoy having Brian home all day over the weekend because he is a buffer between me and the kids. He will help redirect them if they are being too demanding of me. He will allow me to go take a nap (sans children). Monday morning is always a cold bucket of water on that set-up for me.

This morning it started super early. Bekah had crawled into bed with me (as did Jeremy) and was on top of my head. I am a firm believer in not touching during sleep. I don't like snuggling or cuddling or anything like that. As far as I'm concerned, I would like to lay down a barbed wire fence in the middle of my bed. So having a 4-year-old on top of my head is not conducive to good sleep. She was also having a bad dream, which involved flailing arms and whimpering. At 4 AM.

I was so disoriented that I fought her off until 5:23, at which point the temperature in our bedroom must have been close to 80, even though in the rest of the house it was 67. I was overheated, crowded, sleepy and cranky. I carried her to bed, said no to her request for a lullaby and went back to bed.

If the day starts off like that, it usually doesn't get better. We had to go get the oil changed in the van and I became progressively more exhausted! I had no caffeine readily available. We were going to go get Doug's hair cut after that, but the place we visited didn't have availability. We went home and after feeding the kids lunch and putting Doug in his crib, I closed my eyes for a bit.

Upon waking, I knew I needed to make a batch of bread, make dinner for the kids and prepare Brian for the fact that I was going to go running tonight. By myself. True to my word, I had prepared dinner for the kids and the bread was in the oven when he got home. I was already in my running shoes and kissed everyone good-bye. Bekah was the most upset that I was leaving, but even Brian understood that taking her with wasn't going to get me the benefit I wanted.

I ran for about half an hour, almost 3 miles. I felt really good. I wasn't trying to catch my breath, I wasn't hurting anywhere, I wasn't overwhelmed. I did take a short walking break as I approached the crosswalk, but other than that I was running up to 2.50 miles. It felt awesome!! I can tell that I've lost weight (aside from the obvious measure of pounds on the scale coming off) because things were not jiggling as much and my knees were not screaming at me.

It was blissful. I didn't play Springsteen on the iPhone, but baby I was born to run.

Post Diet Coke Era

I want to put a disclaimer with this post. It's not controversial but I know people have different opinions about Diet Coke and aspartame. The internet is such that you can find articles to support any crazy theory you're espousing. What follows is my own personal journey with these two things. I have read some articles published by reputable people (on reputable sites) that pushed me towards wanting to make some changes. I feel like it has helped me in my journey toward healthy. It may not be right for everyone and I would encourage my readers to enjoy the article but do your own research and make the decision that's right for you.

Growing up, my family didn't drink a lot of pop. I think we always knew that it just wasn't great for you. The biggest argument against it was that it rots your teeth. Beyond that, there wasn't information about how it could contribute to the obesity epidemic. The bottom line, it was a rare treat in our house.

I started with Sprite. Coke has always, always been far too sweet for my taste. I liked Sprite because I felt like it was innocuous (seeing as it was clear) and I liked the bubbles. I didn't drink Sprite every day. I frequently didn't finish my 20 ounce bottles of Sprite. To this day, I frequently don't finish the last few drops of any beverage I'm consuming.

In any case, looking back the Sprite may or may not have contributed to my weight gain and/or difficulty with weight loss. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes when I was pregnant with Bekah (and subsequently with Doug). When I spoke with the nutritionists, I described some of the symptoms I had back in high school. They were fairly convinced that I had diabetes (or was pre-diabetic) back then. Back in the 90s, it was unheard of, absolutely unheard of, for teenagers to even be tested or screened for diabetes. If that was my diagnosis, then it seems like the Sprite did contribute to my struggles.

Fast forward to college. I was never a coffee drinker but my sleep problems followed me to college. Mostly they stemmed from me staying up too late, but nevertheless I needed caffeine to make it through the day. I still couldn't stand Coke, but a friend across the hall was drinking Diet Pepsi. Hmm, I thought. Well, it's a diet drink, so that's got to be better for me than regular. I think I'll try it.

Coca-Cola classifies their consumers as "users" and the consumer they really want is the "heavy user." Well, this fit me to a T. I drank Diet Pepsi morning, noon and night. I developed a high tolerance for caffeine and as well struggled with always craving sugar. Remember, this is the late 90s. The obesity epidemic is starting to be serious but the food companies are not wanting to take responsibility for their actions. They market Diet Pepsi (and Coke) to women, mainly, who are trying to watch their waistline.

I never made a correlation between my Diet Pepsi consumption and my sugar cravings. During the couple of years that I abstained from white sugar, I was also off of caffeine, but I still drank Caffeine Free Diet Coke. The damnedest thing happened during that period--my craving for sugar didn't actually ever leave. I still wanted to eat sweet things, even though I wasn't consuming items with sugar in them.

Over the past few years, I started reading more and more about how Diet Coke/Pepsi were not really better for you. They were starting to study the "heavy users" more closely in a lab setting and found out some interesting things. One, aspartame typically causes cravings to happen. It's a chemical that scientists developed in a lab. The scientists who created it don't eat it. That concerns me. It also concerns me that lab animals who consume it in massive quantities are contracting cancer. It concerns me that aspartame is in any kind of "diet" food, but any time I've consumed "diet" food all I end up feeling is the need to consume more.

The other problem I found for myself with Diet Coke was that, when I was drinking copious amounts of Diet Coke, my water consumption dropped precipitously. At the end of my usage, I was drinking multiple 44 ounce servings of Diet Coke. There would be weekends where we would round up the Thornton's cups around the house and find at least a dozen (if not more) empty cups. Meanwhile, I was not drinking anywhere near the recommended amount of water I needed to.

I have always been prone to canker sores, but when I am drinking Diet Coke or eating anything with aspartame, I break out in them. I had one piece of sugar free gum (sweetened with aspartame) a few months ago. Wouldn't you know, but I ended up with a canker sore a few days later. (This is a huge bummer because I love chewing gum.) In the period of time since, I've not had a single one.

When I drank Diet Coke, I felt sluggish. This would, in turn, cause me to drink more Diet Coke. That would, in turn, cause me to want to eat more sugary and other junk foods. It was a vicious cycle and I felt like I couldn't get off of it. I needed some caffeine on some days and coffee still wasn't my first choice.

Even after reading all of this information, hearing all of these anecdotes from people (my dental hygienist pointed out that the pH in soda--diet or otherwise--is highly acidic), etc., I still couldn't kick the habit. I would go for a couple of days without it and then cave and get a 44 ounce cup of Diet Coke from Thornton's.

But luckily God has a sense of humor. I knew I wanted to give it up and so I figured I would give it up for Lent. A week before, a wicked stomach flu swept through our house. The last thing I wanted was Diet Coke!! I have not had a single drop of Diet Coke for over 6 months. I mainly drink water, green tea sweetened with honey and coffee. I have had, on a rare occasion, a Sprite or a Sprite Zero. I would estimate it's been about 4 of them since the beginning of February.

Here's what has happened. One, my weight loss really took off. It did take a few weeks to a month to start to see pounds coming off. I spent a lot of March in a funk about that. On the other hand, my body was probably trying to flush all of the toxins I had put in my body. By April I had started to see regular weight loss and right now I've lost 30 pounds. Meanwhile, the canker sores aren't appearing. I don't get headaches. I don't feel sluggish. I still have a sweet tooth, but it's much more manageable and less intense than it was. I drink water and I feel--gasp--refreshed! We are saving money at the grocery store. We are not in Thornton's buying 44 ounce cups of Diet Coke and then grabbing a bunch of crappy food.

Like I said at the beginning, it took me a while to get to this point. I have dealt with other addictions and knew this was similar but wasn't willing to admit that I was powerless. Once I got to that point (and maybe God pushed me along a bit), I haven't really missed it. I have enjoyed the benefits of not having those chemicals swimming in my body. It became telling to me that the kids called Thornton's "The Diet Coke Store." I feel strongly that kids will emulate the behaviors they witness. I want them to see me drinking water. I want them to develop healthy habits because they see mommy and daddy doing it. (Brian has not completely stopped his consumption but maybe he'll have one once a month, if that. He is also feeling great after giving it up.)

I want to be healthy, not just thin. I want to develop habits that will help me camp out at healthy, not follow a set of rules that will buy me a ticket back to fat. Drinking water, tea and coffee works for me. I know for some people they've had to give up coffee. Maybe one day it will be like that for me. I think I need to do two things--listen to my body and seek God's wisdom. God is very clear that we are to treat our bodies like a temple. I feel like if I'm putting crappy food and drink into my body, I'm defiling the temple. I need to look to God to see what I should put in my body. I need to look to God, not food, to fill me up emotionally. If I'm turning to food when I'm sad, upset, angry, lonely, and not God, I'm not eating in a way that's edifying to me or to God.

I am on a journey toward healthy. I don't know what that number is going to be, but I am glad to be dropping things along the way that are going to make my journey more enjoyable and fulfilling.

Revenge of the Once-Fat

I love to read and I love to watch TV. I know it seems the two are at odds, but that's just who I am. 

In the course of talking about my struggle toward healthfulness,  I remembered some things that have stayed with me over the years. Two of them came from books, one from TV. 

I started reading Sweet Valley High books when I was in 4th or 5th grade. I don't know why I started reading the books. I was always an advanced reader. The material for my age group was too easy, so I started reading what was challenging. In any case, I read (I'm sure) every SVH book I could get my hands on. (In researching for this entry, I discovered that there was an expanded line of SVH about when the girls got older.)

Anyway, the thing that intrigued me most about this series was Elizabeth's friend, Enid. In the original series, her backstory is that she used to be chubby. One day, she decided to change things. She started eating salad and walking around the school's track. She managed to lose the weight and that idea stuck with me. 

My weight really ballooned between my sophomore and junior years in high school. I was still on the swim team, but I was eating way more than I needed to. I felt almost permanently bloated, gross and worthless. 

There were no weight-loss support groups back then, at least for teens. I have known several teens recently who have decided to do Weight Watchers. I was happy for them but sad that it was unavailable to me. 

In any case, reading about Enid gave me a glimmer of hope. I knew that if I used her story as a primer, I might have some success. The problem was that my resolve to change my eating habits never lasted the night. I would stay up late, dreaming about my life as a thin person. I was going to show the people who had been cruel to me. I was going to crush them. 

My dreams of revenge would evaporate into the morning mist, though. I would oversleep and the lack of sleep, unbeknownst to me, would cause me to crave sugar. I would start eating sugar for breakfast and wouldn't stop all day. 

Phen-fen came onto the market in my senior year of high school. I was desperate at this point for something, anything to help stop the weight gain. It was also around this time that I discovered an author by the name of Alice Hoffman. She writes fiction that I would classify as magical realism (think Like Water for Chocolate). In its simplest form, magical realism is storytelling infused with odd or inexplicable events. While the events appear extraordinary, they are treated as normal and mundane. Imagine reading a story and the main characters are sitting in a café drinking coffee. During their coffee date, frogs start dropping out of the sky. Rather than panicking or running for the hills, the characters simply pick any errant frogs up and set them aside. 

Alice Hoffman wrote Practical Magic, which was turned into a movie. I loved the book and enjoyed the movie, but the two were more like half-related than a true adaptation. In any case, my favorite Hoffman novel is called Seventh Heaven. It's set in the 60s and tells the story of a single mom who moves into a very traditional neighborhood. It's a clash of cultures and it's very well-done. 

The main character wasn't what most caught my attention. Nora Silk, with her red hair, beautiful nails and sense of style, that didn't connect with me. I connected with Donna Durgins. She lived in the neighborhood, was married and had two boys. She was chubby and she hated it. 

Now, this is the 50s. She started drinking shakes and taking diet pills. There is a scene in the book when she is walking through the grocery store and her pants fall down around her ankles. Embarrassed, she picks up her pants and races out of the store. 

Eventually, she leaves her family and moves to an adjacent town. Nora stumbles upon her one day and immediately recognizes her. She compliments Donna and they have coffee to talk about Donna's decision. In the end, Nora convinces her to at least reconnect with her family (even if it's not in the same way she had connected with them in the past). 

Phen-fen, as it turns out, was not as great as everyone thought it was. I am grateful that I never took it, but as a teenager reading that book and seeing the immediate results of Phen-fen, I was mesmerized. 

I have to admit, I still wish for Donna Durgins' experience. There have been times during my journey that my jeans have started to sag. I have two pairs of jeans right now that are incredibly saggy. I know it would be initially humiliating, but there's a part of me that would love to have that happen to me!! 

The last piece I'll talk about is from TV culture. Almost anyone my age knows Monica Geller. She is the anal-retentive member to the Friends clan. Of course, her secret is that in high school she was obese. There are classic flashback episodes with Courtney Cox in fat suits to illustrate how she looked. 

Obviously, this is a TV show, not reality. Courtney Cox was herself always a pixie-person, as most of the actors in Hollywood are. I got that part of it. My point is that I crave that experience, of being known as the "fat girl," and turning into the "thin girl."

I have not been to any of my high school reunions because I don't want anyone to see me until I've lost weight!! What I will add is that I wasn't super close with anyone during high school and have only stayed connected with high school friends through FB. I think it would be great to re-connect with people, especially because so many of us have ended up living in the same area. I'm just saying that I am still hoping to make a triumphant return as a thin person. 

I realize that sharing all of this may make me seem a bit maladjusted. I'm not going to argue. If you're thin and have always been thin, most of this might as well have been written in a language with which you're not familiar. For those of my readers that have struggled with this their whole lives, I know you know what I'm talking about. For the rest of you, thanks for peering into my brain and continuing to make eye contact with me. I appreciate your understanding. 

Rambling

I do not know what to write about tonight. I feel like I've become a broken record when it comes to weight loss and eating healthy. I had a great day today, even though Jeremy had a rough day.

We were going to head to Three Oaks today. Brian had voiced some concern about me taking them by myself. He was probably right. It was tough enough to take just the two older kids by themselves. So we decided instead to visit a park with one of my moms groups. It was a park we hadn't visited before.

The kids normally assign names to different parks--there's Big Park, Little Park, Color Park, etc. I have to specify which park we're visiting or else they will bug me incessantly. I told them this morning that it was a new park and they seemed satisfied with that.

It was a park off the beaten path, which actually is just fine with me. Doug still tends to wander aimlessly and the less I have to worry that he's wandering into oncoming traffic, the better. The plan was to walk from there to a local ice cream place, eat ice cream and then walk back.

For me, this was the perfect outing. I was going to be able to earn some activity points, the kids were going to get ice cream that I wasn't going to have to pay for and they were going to burn off some energy. It seemed like a great plan.

I forgot to allow for the Jeremy factor. We didn't discuss, prior to arriving at the park, that we were going to get ice cream. I didn't want them to be so excited about the ice cream that they weren't going to be able to run and play. As it came time to leave the park, he started having a meltdown. This led to a bloody nose.

Jeremy started earlier this year having frequent nosebleeds. We have had his nose cauterized and yet they persist. One of the doctors we saw suggested allergy medicine. The problem there is that Jeremy despises taking medicine. On the rare occasions when he is under the weather, it takes Brian and I sitting on him to get him to take his antibiotics. As you can probably guess, we just haven't been giving him the allergy meds. I already hide the low-dose adult aspirin and iron supplement he takes most days. I don't think I could get away with hiding the allergy meds as well.

I was fortunate that one of the moms had Kleenex for Jeremy. He was reluctant to walk to the ice cream place before the nosebleed--he was convinced afterwards that he couldn't walk there. He told me his knees were going to hurt. I have noticed that he tends to tire easily unless he's in water. I know it's a function of his SPD, so I know he wasn't making it up.

Our little scene was dispersed when one of the kids offered to give up his spot in his own wagon. Jeremy sat down in the wagon and I knew there was nothing I could say to get him out. I was so grateful for friends at that moment, and for this little boy (whom we've only spent a minimal amount of time with before) and his act of selflessness and kindness.

I was able to convince Jeremy to walk back from the ice cream place. He didn't do it willingly but he did do it. It was cute to watch him walk back because he made fast friends with Avery, another mom's daughter. They walked hand in hand most of the way back. It was incredibly cute.

He melted down again when we got back to the park. Avery and Bekah took off running towards the park equipment. Jeremy didn't feel like he could keep up and was very angry that they ran off. We left the park soon after that (everyone was heading home). Jeremy ended up taking a nap for a couple of hours when we got home. It helped with his mood tremendously.

I love my Jeremy. I love that God puts special kids in his life like Avery and Joseph (the boy who gave up his spot in the wagon). It was affirming for me, as we get ready to send Jeremy off to school. I felt like it was God's way of reassuring me that Jeremy is going to be okay, that really God is in control of taking care of him. I am excited for Jeremy to have an opportunity to spread his wings (without me being there). He is such a funny, compassionate, warm, loyal guy. I know that God will put the right people in his path.

Let's Get Physical

I grew up as an athlete. In the years between third grade and my senior year in high school, I played soccer, softball, volleyball and swam on a team. I swam for the longest time, counting both summers and in high school. I didn't swim in college, at least not competitively, and before 8 years ago, I loathed running.

While I was still smoking but had started initially to lose weight, I didn't have a gym membership. I wanted to start moving but it needed to be manageable. I was not at all keen on trying to run and I was far too big to start with running. For a solid year and a half, I walked for half an hour every single day.

I have always had a difficult time pacing myself, so I hit a plateau with the half hour of walking. Looking back, it would have upped the intensity to add ankle weights or even to find some hills to walk. I had some weight loss as a result of the walking but not as much as I wanted.

I walked in the rain, the snow, the heat, all conditions. More important than any weight loss was that I really enjoyed moving. I grew up being heavy, but I think think the thing that kept my weight from really ballooning was the activities in which I was involved. Walking reawakened that passion for me.

The kick-start, the fuel to the fire was running. I thought I would never say that about running but it turned out to be very true. It's a rare person who pays a sum of money to participate in a 26.2 mile race--rarer still the person who commits to running two in one year.

And therein lies the rub. I spent the first part of 2006 training for a marathon in Cincinnati, OH. I did quite well in that race, actually. I enjoyed it even though it was a tough course (quite hilly). I did two half marathons that year as well, one in June and one in August. I have trained for every race I've done on my own, without any training group. By the time I was supposed to be training for the Chicago Marathon in October, I was burnt out.

I was fortunate enough to have a gym membership by this point. Between working retail and getting pregnant with Jeremy, though, I rarely had the energy or time to visit. I always wanted  to go, but I just wasn't physically able. I became a full-time stay at home mom the month before Jeremy was born. After he was born, so much of my time was spent taking care of him that I still didn't take advantage of my gym membership.

It wasn't until Bekah was born that I realized how much I was missing physical activity. I was able, to some extent, do some power walking with the kids when they were very small. I had tried doing some walking outside when I was pregnant with Bekah but it didn't go very far.

I remembered, after I had Bekah, that someone had once told me about Leslie Sansone's Walk at Home workouts. I thought it seemed way too easy, what with me being an accomplished marathon runner! Luckily, though, I had a healthy enough dose of reality and humility to know I had to start again from scratch.

For me, being healthy has never been about just eating well or just moving healthfully. It's had to be a careful combination of both. This is where the WW model of recording all that you consume in a day is so helpful. Yes, I may have worked out for an hour but that only earns me 5 activity points and the donut I ate costs 11. It was great that I worked out but it doesn't erase what I consumed.

Doing the workouts was great and I ended up losing 50 pounds in 19 months (starting in about May the year Bekah was born). I wasn't able to afford WW, but I used My Fitness Pal. The problem I've always had is that I have difficulty with estimating how many calories I've actually burned. I found that it was difficult even with the WW model of tracking.

After I lost that 50 pounds, I got pregnant with Doug. I attempted to keep working out but injured myself one day and then freaked out about hurting him. This hiatus of activity lasted until the middle of last year. I decided to start running again, which was great except that it was the hottest, most humid in recent memory. I would go out running at 10 PM and still feel as if I was running with a wet blanket over my head.

The other problem is that I have bad feet. I have to wear orthotics to correct an arch issue. I also have to spend a bit more money on good running shoes. Once the shoes get worn out, I start having issues with my back and it derails any efforts I've made. Lately, because I've been working out with so much intensity, I've gone through 2 1/2 pairs of running shoes over the past four or so months. At about $80 a pop, it's an expensive purchase but one that I don't mind making.

Really, I don't view exercising as a chore. It's one of the weird quirks of being my size and on a journey toward a smaller one. I will put activity where there shouldn't be. I'll convince the kids to walk to the park. I spent a few hours at Three Oaks the other day and I walked back and forth, parallel to the shore. I cherished the opportunity to walk uphill, in the sand, to take the kids to the bathroom. I actually love being active. It's fun for me. I like to see what my body can do, what limits it may or may not have.

If the voices in my head try to tell me I can't, I remind them that I've run 26.2 miles on three separate occasions. I trained for all three races, doing hundreds of miles of running in preparation, all on my own.

Mostly, I'm realizing the voices in my head are full of shit.

Reduce the Load--Drop the Box

People who are trying to lose weight are always looking for new information. I am, at least. I credit my mom's influence for preventing me from ever trying a fad diet. I know they're out there because I see ads for them on Facebook all the time. They promise stupendous results and claim that only a little work is necessary.

The only way I know to lose weight is to follow a simple formula. Calories in has to be less than calories out. It's really fairly simple. The bigger question than becomes, "what kind of calories?" It's not such a simple question and the answer is complicated as well.

I mentioned last month that I had started reading a book entitled Sugar, Salt, Fat: How the Food Companies Hooked Us, by Michael Moss. I highly recommend it for anyone who wants to become more informed about what they're putting in their bodies. I will reference it heavily in this blog entry. It was both an eye-opening and disturbing find.

My own food choices have evolved over the years. In my last success at weight-loss, I participated in Weight Watchers. My experience was positive and I know the program has evolved. My own ideas, though, have changed.

Back then, I was a slave to the points. What I like about WW is that all food ingested is recorded. I found this to be an invaluable tool. If I'm not writing my food choices down, chances are that I'm trying to fool myself. It can happen in two ways. One, it's the mindless eating. If I've opened a bag of chips and I eat one every time I pass by the bag, how many is that? Am I taking two bites of my kid's leftover sandwich, or four? Even small things like that can really affect the overall picture of what I'm actually putting in my body.

The other feature about WW that I really like is the lessons on portion control. Prior to first participating in WW, I had no real clue about portions. I would read the nutrition information on bags of junk food and not understand what it meant. I would scoop food on my plate and not understand how much food I was actually consuming. This is also a key lesson in getting healthy. I need to have a good understanding of what an actual portion is. I can't make good choices about what to or not to put in my body if I don't know what constitutes a portion.

Two enduring things came out of the knowledge I initially procured. First, I eat almost all of my meals on a small (salad) plate. Study after study shows that people will fill their plate, regardless of what size it is. If I have a small plate and I fill it, it's far less food than filling a large plate. Second, I learned that simply counting points is the best way to lose weight, but not the best way to ensure healthy nutrition.

I'll explain. The last time I participated in WW, I was working in a corporate job. I was not good at cooking, I didn't have a lot of time to shop. I got into a groove at the store and ended up purchasing mostly food in boxes. I relied on Lean Cuisines, Luna and Clif Bars, fresh fruit and frozen veggies.

I was doing the best that I could with the information I had at the time. I learned some important lessons and did lose weight. I knew, instinctively, when I departed from what I had learned. It was no longer a shock that I started gaining weight. I knew how many points chocolate long johns from Jewel are. Eating 4 for breakfast was not healthy. 

One more thing I learned during this period of time was that sugar (white sugar, specifically) is in absolutely everything. I had decided before my 25th birthday to give up refined sugar. That was the one diet my mom had tried. For one year, she gave up refined sugar. Her weight loss was tremendous--until she started eating sugar again. 

I made the decision to give it up. It was a tough decision because I love sweets, but I was desperate to make a change. I started eating sugar again around October of 2006. I had been so crabby for so long without it that it's siren song finally got me. 

I continue to eat refined sugar, but I have become more educated about it. What I said before, about sugar being in everything, is true. My first confirmation of this was in the movie Super Size Me. I know that most people dismissed the movie because any thinking person knows you shouldn't eat at McDonald's three times a day. I, on the other hand, was appalled by two things. First, there are (or were, at the time) only 5 menu items at McDs that didn't have sugar in them. Second, I was shocked to see how portion sizes had changed in the 50 years since McDs had opened. I knew, before then, that fast food was not a healthy choice. But it started my nutrition label scrutiny. 

If you see me in a store, I am the person standing in the aisle reading the label. I was influenced to do that because of Super Size Me, Food, Inc. and the book Fast Food Nation. I never previously gave labels too much thought. 

I ate Lean Cuisines because they fit into my points allotment. They were easy to make, tasted pretty good and helped with portion control. 

This time around, I am steering far clear of them. This is really because of the book Salt, Sugar, Fat. Mr Moss, a journalist, does exhaustive research into several different food companies. It's really the same wherever he went. Food companies use large loads of salt, sugar and fat in all the food they manufacture. All of it. 

It's actually quite disgusting to think about the chemicals, additives and flavorings that we allow them to put in our food. (In this fight, the EU is way ahead of us. They have been aggressive to monitor and ban the use of a lot of the things still allowed here in the States.) Most disgusting is the way the food companies prey on kids. That's for another day, though. 

What I will say is my shopping and eating habits have dramatically changed. Hal Higdon wrote a book about training for a marathon. His suggestion for diet was simple-"eat a wide variety of lightly processed foods." That line has stuck with me for almost 10 years. 

I do absolutely everything I can to avoid any food that comes in a box. I still eat M & Ms, Reese's Pieces, etc., although very sparingly and infrequently. I use store-bought pasta, I buy hamburger and hot dog buns, I buy pretzels. Other than that, there are no boxes in my shopping cart. 

Of all the evidence Mr Moss presented in his book, the most compelling was this--the scientists that formulate the food, the men and women that serve on the board, executives, marketing people--do not eat the food they manufacture. They just don't. And that concerns me more than anything!! 

I cook and bake a lot. I didn't used to love it but I have grown to love it, both because it saves my family money and is saving our lives. I cannot fathom creating a meal for someone and then telling my family not to eat it. They would think I was crazy and I would feel awful feeding something to someone else that I wouldn't eat myself.

And so I'm following the scientists actions. I'm not eating the food they're creating. It costs more money, although there are steps I've learned that save money over time. It takes more time. I mostly cook from scratch and so I have to be strategic and planful. It's tough to be healthful at the last minute. (Tough but not impossible.) 

The problem is that no one really talks about the cost of eating what's in the box. Some additives have been linked to causing cancer. The food companies are interested in selling as much food as possible. To do that, they use sugar, salt and fat in addictive quantities. They speak internally of customers as "heavy users," in the same way tobacco companies talk about their consumers. They are interested in creating an experience when eating. They talk about "mouthfeel," literally the way that food feels when it hits your mouth. There is very little actual, real food in the boxes. More often than not, it's been modified in one way or another from it's original form. 

So I've literally dropped the load. I walk the perimeter of the store. I make most of my food from scratch. I started making my bread and bread products last October and I've not looked back. My cholesterol has plummeted. I eat a lot of butter!! I don't do spreads or margarine (and my cholesterol still dropped). I make pizzas from scratch, pasta sauce from scratch (bread and spaghetti sauce carry the highest sodium and sugar loads of any products in the store, no joke).

I never envisioned myself being this foodie type. I didn't imagine that I would enjoy making healthful, whole food for my family. I have a tremendous responsibility to my kids to build healthy eating habits. We don't have fruit snacks, Goldfish, fruit roll-ups, Teddy Grahams, Cheerios (or any other breakfast cereal) in our house. I won't buy them, I just won't do it. 

So that's my secret. It's not a new idea or revolutionary or flashy. It's not causing me to lose weight any faster. But it is satisfying, it's good for me and it's sustainable. And any personal trainer would tell you that's the key for long-term success in getting healthy. It might take me longer to get to where I'm going, but I'm not going to be starving when I get there. 

Benefits of Being Fit

The last time I was thin ended in 2006. It took me two years to lose nearly 90 pounds. At my lowest, I weighed 173 pounds, which is the lowest I had ever been since middle school. (True story, I actually looked it up in my baby book and found a middle school physical that listed my weight as being around the same.)

There were a lot of things I liked about being fit, and this is a short (but not exhaustive) list of things I miss most about being fit.

1. Accessories are not the same when one is fat. I currently sport a "schlubby chic" wardrobe. It mostly consists of oversized men's t-shirts I purchased when I was pregnant with Jeremy. I have recently added a few cute tops purchased at a consignment shop. Aside from those (literally two tops), I can normally be seen around town sporting oversized, slightly stained, t-shirts. I've been able to enter a few shirts back into the rotation now that I've lost weight, but it would appear that I dislike either my body or fashion. Nothing could be further from the truth. I love fashion. (I'm working on loving my body.) I am obsessed with labels and on the rare occasions I find myself in a department store sans children, I fondle high-end handbags. I am partial to Kate Spade and Coach, but typically Coach is kept in glass cases. I love shoes as well. At my thinnest, I had quite a collection of shoes in a variety of heights. (True confession time--I am not graceful enough to work a pair of heels, but I will do a wedge with some height or boots.) Unfortunately, accessories designed for the thin do not work well with the fat. The lengths on the shoulder straps are not correct--they don't hang appropriately on me. Shoes are not made in my size (large, and now wide). I know there is some truth to the idea that feet spread as one has children, but not this much. Other accessories also fail--necklaces are not long enough to go around my neck, rings and bracelets are not made in my size. Yes, Lane Bryant has stepped in (as has Catherine's) to fill the accessory gap. The prices, though, are higher. It's completely logical--they're pricier because they have to use more materials. I have a jewelry box full of accessories that I simply can't wear because they don't fit me. I cannot wait until I am able to delve into my accessories again.

2. Small spaces, parties, crowded dining rooms are all overwhelming to me. When I was thin, I was able to navigate these things with ease. I didn't have to worry that I couldn't squeeze by a table full of patrons at a crowded restaurant. Even dinner at my parent's house has become uncomfortable. (I will note that my parent's dining room has one more piece of furniture than it should, but besides that it's a regular-sized room.) My kids can't squeeze by me to get to where my dad sits. They have to travel the opposite side of the table. It's quite humiliating and I remember how great it used to be to not have to excuse myself countless times to get from Point A to Point B. Being fit meant being able to squish into a third-row seat, sit comfortably next to more than one person on the couch and actually being able to wrap my arms around my shins. I am excited to be able to squeeze between people on a couch and do so comfortably.

3. I can count on one hand the number of pictures taken of me over the past almost 6 years. Part of that stems from being the only one behind the camera. The bigger picture, if you'll excuse the pun, is that I don't want to document how I look right now. I was going through my phone the other day and I caught a few pictures the kids had taken of me. The person staring out at me is not the person I imagine that I resemble. She is pudgier and rounder than I remember her being. We have no family pictures of all 5 of us. None. I am hopeful that by next summer I'll be comfortable enough with myself to have a family picture taken.

4. Crossing one's legs seems like such a small thing. Really, I'm sure most people do it a thousand times a day without thinking about it once. I have not been able to cross my legs for about 7 years. I can cross my ankles, I can sit cross-legged (for short stretches of time but with some considerable discomfort), I can sit with my foot underneath me. But what I really want to do is sit on a chair and just cross my legs. Easy peasy. The day I'm able to cross my legs again will be a red-letter day.

5. I took up running before I even quit smoking. I transitioned from walking 30 minutes every day to jogging 30 minutes every day. I was insane enough to smoke even after I had just finished a run. (Please note, I miss smoking almost every day and it's not the worst thing I've ever quit. Smoking was the toughest to quit and remains the thing I want on sometimes a daily basis.) I learned to love running. I didn't love it in a "wow, this is a great way to lose weight," but in a "my God this feels great and I feel like a superhero when I'm running." I mean, I absolutely couldn't wait to go on a run. Training for a marathon was one of the few times I could get myself out of bed at 430 in the morning. (For those who know me, that is not part of my nature.) I drive around Crystal Lake and look longingly at people who are out jogging. I try to devise ways I could go jogging with Doug in a stroller and Bekah and Jeremy on their bikes. (I've not been able to come up with a feasible way to make that happen, by the way.) I have gone out on a few runs, here and there. I trained last summer to do a 5K (and I did it, however ploddingly). When I am fit, running is a joy, a pleasure, a respite. Over the past year, when I run I can't get my breathing in a good rhythm, my joints feel like they're trying to support an elephant. I have mostly abstained from running because I literally can't afford an extensive knee injury. I am chomping at the bit to get my weight more manageable range so that I can be someone running along, making someone else jealous.

6. Last but certainly not least is my wedding ring. As I admitted in number 1, I am a freak for labels. When Brian and I started looking at engagement rings and bands, I knew I wanted a Tacori band. I picked one out that was engraved all the way around the band. I had it fitted and the jeweler explained to me that it would be a pip to resize because of the engraving. No worries, I said, because I just lost a bunch of weight and have no intention of regaining it. Alas, we know to where the road leads that is paved with good intentions. I haven't worn my wedding ring for about 5 1/2 years. I squeezed into it for my 30th birthday party but took it off the same night and have been fighting to get back into it ever since. Finances being what they have been, resizing the ring has just not been a reality. (In a crazy twist of fate we tried to pawn my ring during a particularly low time. Found out it was worth $400, nothing near what Brian paid for it. We didn't pawn it and it's locked away right now.) After Bekah was born, I lost 50 pounds over 19 months. The lowest weight I got to at that time was 258. Over a period of months, I kept trying it on but couldn't get it past my second knuckle. I am hopeful that by the new year I will be able to once again sport the enduring symbol of my marriage.


I miss being fit, in the way I imagine an amputee misses their limb. I still picture myself the way I looked in pictures just before my wedding, with no chins and no back fat and a discernible clavicle. I can almost fool myself that I still look that, until I walk past a mirror or catch a glimpse of myself in a store window. There is an instant slump in my shoulders when I realize I'm not the person I once was. I want to be active.

Contrary to popular belief, I am actually in pretty decent shape. I can't sprint or do dead squats or do chin-ups. But I spent most of the weekend in activity. I nap sparingly and try to add walking (and subtract driving) wherever I can. I don't eat mindlessly, I don't spend all day staring at a screen, etc. etc.

I know that I can't reap the benefits of being fit without walking through this hard part, the being fat part. There is truth in the saying "those who forget their past are doomed to repeat it." When I succeed, when I reach the ideal weight the Wii fit tells me (which is 140 pounds, although I'd be happy with 160, honestly), if I have not burned these moments of discomfort, of sweating in Lycra-laced clothes, of not being able to run around the block without feeling my lungs exploding, into my consciousness, I will not be able to live with all these benefits.

I keep wondering why it's been such a struggle to lose the weight. There are contributing factors not present when I last lost weight (I am almost 10 years older than I was when I last lost weight, I have had three kids, I don't have a gym membership and unlimited time to live at the gym), but I think the bigger issue is spiritual. Anything worth having is worth fighting for. I've often wondered why people who win the Lotto end up penniless and miserable. It's something we hear about time and again. Most of us think that money is the answer (or a husband, or children, or whatever).

Really, though, the answer is more God. If I can't solve the underlying issue, the need for more God in my life, in my choices, in my family, etc, then I am not going to enjoy any long-term benefits because I'll be repeating the same cycle over and over again.

So I will take my weight-loss slowly, if it means I can become even more uncomfortable with being fat. If it means that I am so uncomfortable making poor choices. If it means that the extra pounds feel that much more foreign on my body. If it means that I hit my knees (rather than a convenience store) when cravings for yucky foods hit.

But I tell ya what. I can't wait for the day that I can sport my wedding ring while running for a PR in a race. It's gonna be quite a day.

Drawbacks of Being Fat

I have been overweight for most of my life. There have been a few periods of time where I reached a healthy weight but other than that, I've weighed more than I'm supposed to. What follows is a list of things I've learned to hate about being fat.

1. Double chins are only attractive on babies. This is a universal fact. You are never going to see a Swimsuit Edition model sporting two (or more) chins. There's just something inherently unattractive about seeing an extra jiggle at the bottom of someone's face. I have hated my chins for a while. The last time I lost a significant amount of weight, I was so happy to have pictures taken of me! No longer did I have to have a weird camera angle to showcase my face! I was able to have people take pictures of me straight on and it was glorious. When I am sitting at my desk, blogging, and watching Netflix on the iPad next to me, the thing I hate most is the reflection of my double chins back at me in the iPad screen.

2. Elbow dimples are also only attractive on babies and toddlers. I know that I have made some progress in losing weight, but I hate riding in the car with Brian. As I'm driving, I can see my elbow dimples in the side view mirror. It's really unattractive. I will echo my sentiment for number 1--elbow dimples don't show up on those who are of a normal weight. (Yes, I know models are usually under a normal weight but still, they are closer to their ideal weight than I am.) I frequently will adjust the way I'm sitting in the van so that I don't have to see my elbow dimples.

3. Clothing for overweight women is simply not the same. When I had last lost weight, there was something glorious about going shopping at H & M. It was so beautiful to fit into size 14/16! I wasn't forced to shop at plus-sized stores. I could actually wear things that were fashionable and somewhat form-fitting. (I will say that I'm not one for tight-fitting clothing. Even thinner I preferred things to be a bit blousier than my actual size. I'm pretty modest when it comes to clothing choices and I also hated the muffin top that was left over after my weight loss. I think it was really just some extra skin, but it made me self-conscious. This was also before the invention of Spanx, so maybe when I lose weight this time it will be different.) Plus-sized clothing has improved over the years, I will say that. When I was growing up Lane Bryant had no cache and no style. Now, there is an attempt at bringing "normal-sized" fashion labels into plus-sized clothing--especially because most of the country is either overweight or obese. I do own a plus-sized pair of 7 brand capris. I am close to being able to fit into them again.

The bigger problem with plus-sized clothing is that most of it uses some type of Lycra/spandex fabric. This means that if I go to the store and find a pair of jeans that fits me, chances are after I wear them a few times they will be falling off of me. Typically they stretch as you wear them which is great if they're tight, but if they just fit you then it ends up looking like you can't shop for clothes appropriately. There's no chance that the lunges and squats you've sweated through are going to be highlighted because the seat of the pants ends up sagging toward the ground. Quite discouraging. Then, when you go to find the next size smaller (because that's got to be the solution) they don't quite fit you yet. Yuck.

I also have found that clothes with Lycra/spandex do not breathe at all. I sweat like a man in almost any situation, but the addition of Lycra will accelerate that condition. Consequently, I end up sweating just about anywhere that's not kept at meat locker temperatures. Super attractive.

4. Perception of the obese is still quite negative. I am not calling myself obese to be abusive to myself. Clinically, that is what I am. We could sit and parse the definition or say that the AMA has it all wrong, but I've found (for myself), it's best to call a spade a spade. My BMI is 41.79. I fit into the parameters of obese. I am working hard, on a daily basis, to lower that number and reach a weight that is healthy and doesn't complicate my health.

I am fortunate to have a bevy of friends who are (and always have been) super supportive of my journey toward healthfulness. Quite frankly, the one person who is the most negative about my weight--and always has been--has been my maternal grandmother. I could spend an entire entry talking about how destructive her language and ideas about body image have been. Aside from her, my friends don't treat me any differently.

In general, though, I know that the perception of the overweight and obese is that we are lazy and lack self-discipline and willpower. I have spent at lot of time living in that space, thinking it fit me. Upon reflection, I realized that I'm actually not lazy. I love to sleep, I will not argue that. My house is a pit, the floors have not been mopped in some time, my bathroom is a pigsty, you're not going to find an argument there. Overall, though, I am not someone whom I would consider lazy.

The reality is I have three kids 5 and under and the emotional, psychic and physical energy spent raising them is immense. I have discovered, over the past few months, that I have not been using my energy wisely. I've been trying, therefore, to work out more but also just to put more activity into my day. Can I cut out a nap? Can I clean more and spend less time on my phone? Can we walk to the park instead of driving?

Unfortunately, as it has taken me several years to get to this weight, having a spike in physical activity over the past four months has not translated to a 100-pound weight loss. This is where I think pop culture is fighting against those of us who are obese. Shows like The Biggest Loser and Extreme Weight Loss highlight and applaud significant amounts of weight loss. On it's face, this is probably a good thing. But there have been times I sit and watch these shows and curse my paltry 1-pound a week weight loss.

The reality is that losing a pound to a pound and a half a week is healthy, manageable and sustainable. I am not lazy because I didn't work out for four hours. It is okay that I'm eating more than 1200 calories a day. I cannot afford a trainer. I work out at home and have had to accept that I might not always look like the person starring in the DVD. If my kids need something, I step away from the DVD. That doesn't mean I missed out on the workout! I am still moving, even if it's just to go to the kitchen and get a cup of milk for someone.

It's frustrating to feel judged. I'm not saying I never judge people, but I will say that my journey has led me to want to roll the window down on my van and cheer for people who are running. I especially want to cheer on the people who look like me--red-faced, teeth gritted, fists clenched. They make me feel energized because I know that they are on the same journey I am and are fighting to stay focused.

5. Health problems abound for me when I am obese. I have made some great strides towards eliminating some medications and lowering my risk factors for heart attack, diabetes and stroke. I am hopeful that by this time next year, I can be off at least two of the three daily medications I take. (One is an anti-depressant and I don't hope to be done with that, which is perfectly acceptable and fine with me.) It is expensive to be obese. I spend a lot of money on medications that I never had to spend before. I have to go to the doctor more often than I did when I was at a healthy weight. I had gestational diabetes for my last two pregnancies, which ended up costing more than my first pregnancy (to be fair, this was for a number of factors but I'm strictly talking about the cost of extra medications and extra doctor's office visits).

I would love, love, love to be spending the money I spend on medications on other things, like new running shoes, new workout DVDs and, frankly, new (smaller) clothes! It's frustrating to see the dollars Brian works so hard to earn being siphoned off to big pharma and big insurance. I work harder because I know I want that money to be kept in my family's pocket, where it can actually have a bigger positive impact.


This list is not exhaustive, but these are the things that are currently plaguing me about my obesity. I'm not trying to be morose or anything. Rather, this is something I hope will motivate me to keep working toward my goals. I was teased mercilessly by my male peers about my weight while I was growing up. Those are the voices I continue to hear as I'm sweating in front of the TV. I used to think that the word fat was so ugly, but I've really changed my perspective on it. I know it's not for everyone, but here's how I look at it.

If I'm not fat, if I think I'm really a healthy weight or I'm just fine the way I am (as countless girlfriends have told me over the years), then what power do I have in that? I can wear bigger, blacker clothing (black is always slimming, right?), I can deny that tying my shoes is causing me to have to catch my breath, I can worry about the tingling feeling I have after climbing the stairs. If I'm not fat, if I'm just the way I'm supposed to be, then that's a pretty crappy life to have.

If I am fat, if a series of circumstances, poor choices and setbacks have caused my current situation, there's power in that for me. I can't do anything about what the circumstances have been. I can't change the deluge of shit that has happened to my family since we moved to Crystal Lake. I can, on the other hand, decide to put that down and walk past it. I can make better choices about what I do and don't put in my body. I can reframe setbacks and turn them into positive learning experiences.

In short, if I accept that I am fat I know I can work hard enough to get healthy. I am not a victim, I am not someone to be pitied, I am not weak or lacking in discipline. It will take me some time, but I will move beyond this physical experience I'm having. I will forge a new path, with new choices and new possibilities. My kids are watching me on this journey. I have never called myself fat or ugly in front of any of them. When I exercise, I am trying to be healthier. When I say "no" to junk food (for me and them), I explain to them about making healthy choices, about sometimes foods and all-the-time foods. This is empowering them.

I will not be around all the time to help them make the right choices, but I can help make sure they don't develop oversized appetites for unhealthy foods. I can help them now to choose the right things at school, when I'm not around. I can make sure that they get enough physical activity, that the TV isn't on all day (I'm still working on this one), that they are bathed and read to and cared for. Because, you see, I don't want them to end up like me. I want them to be able to focus the bulk of their attentions on achieving their goals, not on having to correct health problems.

All those boys out there who teased me, who mocked me, who called me names, I am turning your words of hurt into words of empowerment. I refuse to be defined by my weight but I will own what I weigh so that I can move past it. If I am not seeking the truth in all aspects of my life, I am going to be fooled by the lies.

Yes, I am fat. Luckily, that's a temporary condition.

August, The Rapacious Creditor

Oh, August. Every year it's the same thing. Money starts evaporating. Maybe it's the humid climate we inhabit, I'm not sure. I'm exhausted tonight from walking the kids to the park and back, mowing the lawn and working out. My activity tracker says I've been moving (collectively) for 176 minutes today. That's a lot.

Between the financial struggles and the physical exhaustion, I'm kind of at my breaking point. It's responsible to be on a budget, but it's tough to have to weigh each item that goes into your shopping cart. There are no margins, financially, for us in August and September.

We made a plan at tax time, when we got our refund. We set aside money so that when August hit it wouldn't be quite as bad as last year. Then Jeremy got his diagnosis and we started with Occupational Therapy. It has been a godsend, but it's weighed heavy on our bottom line. Our health insurance allowed us this year to set aside money in an FSA--two years ago we didn't have that option. Jeremy and I took trips to the ER this year that ate up a lot of that money.

This is not a post about how awful our financial situation is, though. This is about how much better we are than we have been. Two Augusts ago, we had just finished filing bankruptcy. We weren't paying the mortgage on our house, we had no extra money to speak of, no FSA, a newborn and we were visiting the food pantry on a monthly basis.

One August ago, we weren't paying the mortgage (we had paid briefly but then had to stop because of Brian's surgery) but we weren't visiting the food pantry.

This August, we are paying the mortgage (although we aren't sure why, as we owe more than the place is worth and have *never* seen a cent of equity), are not visiting the food pantry and our collective health is excellent. My cholesterol took a huge dip, from 374 early in the year to 230 now. My blood pressure has stabilized and I have lost almost 30 pounds.

Brian has started exercising with me in the evenings. (He's exercising now and I would normally join him except that I've already been moving for almost 3 hours.) He is starting to see some benefits as well. He is due for an ultrasound this October to make sure he's still cancer-free.

We are visiting Jeremy's cardiologist next Friday, but then we are hopeful that we can *not* see him again until 2015, which is when Jeremy's electrophysiologist wants to see him again. That would be a *tremendous* financial relief for us. His cardiology appointments, while necessary and in-network, are quite pricey. He's already almost met his part of the deductible, so hopefully the visit will be covered at a higher benefit than it normally is.

My point is, August has made us it's bitch for several years. I could have very well been writing this exact post last year. It's a tough situation, one that has made for some tense conversations and sniping at one another. Gladly, it's also made the way for lots of prayer. Brian and I pray more together as a couple when we are struggling than at any other time. Even when Brian loses his temper with me, we pray. If I'm in tears because I'm (still) not sure we can stay in the house, we pray.

We got a bill today from the kids' doctor for their annual physicals. We were floored because we thought that was covered at 100%. Brian opened the bill as soon as he walked in from work and was pretty upset. I was heading out the door to have dinner with friends (mostly on someone else's dime). I paused, in the midst of the emotion, and we prayed together.

Don't get me wrong, I am a wreck about this stuff. I became a demonstrator for the Grain Pantry this summer, something I thought would help our family. What I'm realizing is that it's taking me some time to get going. It's really been costing us more than I've made (if only slightly). The fact that I'm not making oodles of money right away is a huge stressor.

Here's the thing, though. I feel like God led me to do this. I am excited to teach other people about how to eat healthy. I know, that if God led me to do it, it will produce fruit and bless my family. It's just not going to happen on my timetable. Honestly, though, I've found that mostly God's timetable is better. Whatever plans or designs for my life that I have, he has something infinitely better planned.

I didn't want to go out tonight. I have been on the verge of tears for the past few days. I hate, hate, hate, crying in public. I went tonight to do the opposite of my nature. I figured it was best for me to get out among other adult moms and ask about how they are doing. I have spent enough time in my own head and know how *I'm* doing, so there's no need to talk about it with anyone.

I know, in my heart, that by November this will all be a distant memory. Things will work out (as they always do) and we will have our normal, modest Christmas. We will enjoy Thanksgiving in the bosom of our family. The kids will continue to not understand why we can't get chicken nuggets and fry-fries all the time, but they haven't ever understood that. God has this tremendous way of working things out in unexpected but deliriously good ways. Not dump-lotto-money-in-your-lap good, but in a way where we become more spiritually enriched and less materially entangled.

And really, I think that's the point.

Phone Call Phobia

I have a crazy confession. I hate making phone calls. Not in the sense that it's an inconvenience or a burden, but I actually have an intense dislike of talking on the phone. I don't know where it came from. I am a gregarious, outgoing, extroverted human being. I will walk up to anyone and talk to them about just about anything.

I love texting, e-mailing, messaging on FB, etc. I like meeting for coffee, I will cook dinner for people, I will go for a walk with anyone.

It's just the telephone. I hate calling for take-out. On the rare occasions that we order food out, I don't make the phone call. I usually ask Brian to do it. If I have to make a call to someone I don't know, I put it off as long as possible. I absolutely fear the telephone.

I know it seems like I'm just ridiculous, but I'll try and explain myself. I like talking to people, but one of my biggest problems is that I over-read people. As I'm talking to people, if I see them glance away or glance at their watch, I get anxious. I try to wrap up the story I'm telling them. I try to bring them back into the conversation. I start overcompensating. It's interesting to watch from a distance, I'm sure. I must look like a crazy puppet being pulled by invisible strings.

I am an empath and it's a good and bad thing. I can relate to people well but it also makes me a people-pleaser and somewhat codependent.

On the phone, I can't read body language. I can't see whether or not a person has become disinterested. I struggle to hear what people are saying, either because of reception of the telephone or because I got distracted or both. I frequently interrupt people when I don't mean to, which I think comes off as arrogant or proud.

I almost always forget to ask people (initially) if they can talk. That has led to awkwardness when the person later informs me, mid-conversation, that they actually can't talk. Usually it's after I've been going on and on for 10 minutes. I end up feeling sheepish and ridiculous, even if the person on the other end is dismissive and apologetic themselves.

I am way too chatty for my own good. It can be endearing but it almost always ends up with me seeming like a spaz. It was one of the reasons I struggled to make and keep friends in high school. I talk when I'm nervous and I'm nervous most of the time.

This phone phobia has been a stumbling block for me. My work has suffered, both corporate and volunteer. I have developed a bad reputation for not calling people back. Ever. I will text, e-mail, Facebook, whatever, but I put off calling as long as possible. It's cost me friendships, it's caused me to lose effectiveness as a volunteer, it's just an awkward problem to have.

I'm not sure what I hope to accomplish by sharing this. I've shared all manner of humiliating and gut-wrenching things with my readers, so I'm just adding it to the pile.

I'd tell you all to call me and chat about it, but...let's just chat on Facebook instead.