What A Difference A Year Makes

One year ago, I made a decision. I did it because I was tired.

Tired of being tired.

Tired of feeling like less of a person, even though there was more of me.

Tired of worrying about what my family would do if my weight led to the end of me.

I had learned that I could use the money in my flexible spending account to pay for weight loss programs.  To do so, I had to get my doctor to sign off on the need.  Dr. B was willing to do so, but she wanted me to give her the opportunity to help me first.

When I stepped on that scale a year ago, I was flabbergasted.  I wanted to believe that I couldn't figure out how I had allowed myself to gain that much weight. But deep down, I knew.  I ate what I wanted, in the quantities I wanted, and I got very little in the way of exercise.   The plans I had laid at age 30 to get healthy had gone by the wayside.

I haven't previously talked about what that scale said.  I honestly have been too embarrassed.   While many believe that a picture is worth a thousand words, I still think the words need to be said.

My weight one year ago was:  379.6 pounds.

You might as well call it 380, I sure did.   I also call it unbelievable.  I had major issues coming to terms with that number.  I wanted to tell myself that the scale was wrong, but I knew better.

So, I set out on a journey.  I worked to change my relationship with food, get myself moving, and finally take control of my weight and my life.

A week ago, I asked my mom to retake that picture.  Here's what we got (I'll re-post those side by side below for comparison sake):

I feel like a different person.  I sleep better, move better, am healthier, and know I am making the right changes.  I no longer live to eat.  Food is fuel, nothing more.

Don't get me wrong, I still love food.  Tom's blog is still another type of poetry for me.   Even with that, I no longer feel the need to gorge myself. There will always be more, so there is no need to feel like I have to eat everything I want all at once.

When I stepped on the scale today, my new weight was 296.5 pounds.


For those doing the math, that is a loss of 83.1 pounds!!


A testament to the change I have made is how I feel about that.  I set out to lose 100 pounds.  Previously, I would have been devastated that I did meet the goal and would slide back into my old habits.  

Not this time.

I lost 83.1 pounds!!


That's all that matters. A even mentioned that this morning.  How important it is to focus on what I HAVE done and not what I haven't.

I eat better.

I feel better.

And I run!

If that's the difference this year has made, I can't wait to see what happens during the next one!

Before

After

Cuts Like a Knife

Z has a affinity for H2O.  It is my fervent belief that he is part fish. He must be, as I have never had to fight to get him in the bathtub.  He would be eternally pruney-fingered if I would simply allow him to spend as much time in the water as he wants.

It is this joy of the water that I got to experience with my son, husband, Mom, and Pop this past Sunday.

For the last few years, The Company has sponsored a summer event at Nashville Shores, a water park situated on the shores of Percy Priest Lake.  We get a bargain price on tickets that includes all day fun, food, games, and parking.  We went for the first time last year, and so I knew we were going to go this year as well.

As we went about the park, finding more and more fun, we found ourselves in the Lazy River.  There are currents under the water that keep everyone moving around the space, regardless of how much energy you expend (or how little).

It was during this little venture with my family when I heard it.

The comment.

As I was walked along beside my husband and son, I heard someone say "Look there!  It's the white hippo.  And there's another one!"   The only people of larger size around were me and another woman walking further ahead.

It has been quite some time since I have been subjected to verbal assaults from people in public arenas.  The last time I dealt with them was because of the fact that we were an interracial couple in an small-minded town.  I don't believe that I have heard comments about my weight since before I stood up to my brother as a teenager.

As I looked back, I realized those comments weren't from some immature kid whose parents hadn't taught him better manners.  They were from a 30-something guy whose parents hadn't taught him better manners.

I will be honest, I was taken aback by the fact that someone my age would be so disrespectful to other human beings.  Not to mention that he was so bold as to state this as close to me as he was.  After all, I am fat. Not deaf.

When I look back on how I would have previously handled my emotions in the face of such a hurtful remark, I remember the pain.  Comments about my weight had the power to slice me to ribbons in an instant.  No matter how many times I had worked to feel better about myself, the words could destroy all of that work in an instant.  I buried myself in food to hide the pain those damaging words would inflict.

Now, it's completely different.  I have worked to heal myself, both outside and in.  I have changed how I eat, how I live, and how I feel about myself.   No longer do I need to hide myself away and smother my feelings with food.  No more escape.  No more fear.  I AM strong. I AM beautiful.  And I am NOT a damn hippo.

I also would have previously allowed John Doe to return my blistering gaze with his smirk and cowered under the power of my own inadequacies.

Not this time.   I didn't rail.  I didn't even bat an eye.  I looked back at Mr. Doe and politely stated:

"Oh, look!  It's a jackass in his natural habitat!"

Smirk gone.  Balance restored.  Fat Girl: 1.  Loser: 0.

Cuts like a knife?  Not anymore.

Parents Strongly Cautioned

When my mother rented Robocop for my brother and me, she was probably just thrilled that we were able to agree on something.  I can still remember the look on her face and the shrill "TURN THAT OFF RIGHT NOW!!" as the main character is brutally (and graphically) gunned down towards the start of the movie.

While the movies rating system was introduced in the late 60's, not many paid very close attention.  Tom and Jerry were as violent as any movie we could have watched, so what was the difference?

For our generation, we are hyper-aware of the ratings the government places on our movies, television, and music.

Well, at least you think we would be.

I am the first to admit that I am constantly confused by the ratings applied to movies:

Shrek is rated PG, but Monsters, Inc (released the same year), with its growling hairy monsters only earned a G rating.

Anastasia and A Bug's Life earned G ratings in the late 90's, but movies with similar content (with regards to the violence, fighting, and innuendos) earn a PG rating today (see: Kung Fu Panda and How to Train Your Dragon).

This past Saturday, we went in search of a movie that was playing to which we could take our 4 1/2 year old son.   He has already seen Mr Popper's Penguins (PG), Cars 2 (G-huh?), and Winnie the Pooh (G) was not going to be released for another couple of weeks.

The only thing that was even close to what we'd find interesting was The Green Lantern (stretching the boundaries with a PG-13 rating).

Me being me, I went in search of reviews that might give me some insight on the movie's content and if it really deserved to be rated so close to the edge of R.   Most of what I read listed it as "not so bad" and "nothing so terrible."  There were mentions of no sex, little foul language, and just some cartoon-ish mahem.

It was armed with this that we went forth to see The Lantern.

Idiots.

The fact that there were NO other children in the theater should have tipped us off.  The first part was fine.  However, as the movie progressed, it was clear that we had made a bad decision.   Older children would probably be fine...as in the 13 and older recommendation made by the Motion Picture Association. As for our son, two thirds of the time was spent with closed eyes and covered ears.

It leads me to question the toys that are geared towards younger children.  We are behind told that toy makers want you to play with the toys that represent the movies you should probably avoid taking your kids to see at the theater.

A mixed message of merchandising that goes right along with the mixed message of the ratings system itself.

Now, let me point out that I do NOT expect the government to tell me how to parent my child.  Last time I checked, that is the job of the hubs and myself.  It is our duty to determine what Z should and should not be allowed to see.

I count this experience as a lesson learned.  No parent gets it right all of the time. Many may think that I should have known better.  Again, I point out the flawed ratings system that is supposed to help me determine to what I should expose my son.

At the end of the day, everything is up for inspection.  I know that I cannot shelter my son from all of the world.  He needs the life experiences to grow and develop.  However, if there are any questions about what he'll see, then it's off the table until hubs and I can watch it ourselves and make a decision.

Parents Strongly Cautioned indeed.





 

Transition

Tran*si*tion  [tran-zish-uh'n]  noun.  "A movement, development, or evolution from one form, stage, or style to another."

Change is coming.

In reality, change is always coming.   It is the inevitability of change that is, in the end, its constant.  You might not know what is going to be different, but you can count that something is going to be different.

My job is transition, literally.  90 days ago, I left my rotational position to join a previous boss in The Company's Transition department.  It is my job to guide the newest members of The Company through training and their first twelve weeks on the phone.

Fear. Trepidation. Excitement. It all comes out in Transition.   We have those who have worked in a call center, those who haven't.  Those who have worked with customers, those who haven't.  Those who will be successful, those who won't.  And it is my job to usher them in and guide them along.

This past week, my first Transition class graduated.   And my second class started training.

In the midst of this, I had to say goodbye.

My wonderful friend Scott is moving on to another position.  It's a perfect one for him, one that will use the skills he spent years perfecting.  He is smart and brave, even if he sometimes doubts both of those. He also doubts what he can do, but he should know that he will be amazing in the new role.

What's not amazing?  It is a position that is not in our call center.  For the last nine months, I have worked with him nearly every day. Joked with him nearly every day. Lunch, nearly every day.  Same trainings, same time. I have learned about Family, Librarians, and Betty.  And I have gained a forever friend.

Tomorrow, that will change.  Tomorrow, I am on my own.  Tomorrow, I am in transition.

I know my abilities, although I tend to question them.  I like people, although (as previously mentioned) it takes me time to open up.   And I know I can do this, although I'd rather not do it alone.

But, it is time to change.  Rearrange.  Rewrite the agenda.

I am in Transition...

...in more ways than one.

The Introverted Extrovert

I am a people person.

Sort of.

I have never had an issue with speaking to people on the phone, which I suppose is beneficial in my line of work.  I like solving issues and working to relate to them.

The funny thing?  I have serious issues doing this in person.  Every personality test I have taken has labeled me as an Extrovert.  Essentially, I am supposed to be completely comfortable in group settings.  I should be thrilled with the idea of interacting with new people and working a crowd.

Yeah, not so much.

I am rather inept at those situations.  I don't mean to be standoffish, it's just my go-to habit when I want to prevent rattling to the point of being that annoying person.  There doesn't seem to be much middle ground for me.

A couple of weeks ago, I RSVP'd my son for the birthday party of one of his daycare classmates. It was a spur of the moment decision.  It wasn't until the morning of said party that I realized the full impact of this decision.

I was taking my son to a party.

A Pool Party.

With people I had NEVER met.

I still wonder why I did it.  I know I'm not comfortable in these situations and, truth be told, I am a bit of a hermit.  I like to be at home.  I don't have some overwhelming desire to be a mover and a shaker.

So, we went.  Z obviously had fun.  He is part fish, after all.  It also appears that when you stick 15 kids in a pool with a water slide their size, you don't have to worry about social ackwardness.

As for me, it was a little difficult.  I normally have the buffer person.  There is at least one person I know, so I am not completely alone in the new situation with new people.

This time, no buffer.  No one I knew.

Commence freak-out.

Thankfully, there was one of those extroverted extroverts who truly doesn't ever meet a stranger.  She was kind and chatty, making the discussion effortless for me.   Which works for me.  Once one of these highly friendly, knows-no-strangers people breaks the ice, I am welcome to go with it.

So, it appears that I will be attending more birthday parties and accepting invites for outings.  I am hoping that this might help me step out of my comfort zone and meet new people.  Additionally, I hope this helps Z become a little more outgoing and independent.

And that I learn to do the same.

The Journey of a Thousand Miles

"...begins with a single step."


For the last few days, that single step has felt like it is in quicksand and the journey has never felt longer.

I am going to be honest...I feel off the wagon.  No, it's probably more accurate to say that I willingly jumped off the wagon while it was still in motion.

On Friday, a follow up appointment didn't go as planned.  I hadn't expected to hear great things, but I also didn't expect to get news that puts some plans on the back burner of a stove in China.

Based on that, I have fallen into bad habits.  I really didn't care much about what I ate this weekend.  If it appealed to me, I had it.  Wings? Yep.  Dessert? Sure.  It was emotional eating, I know.

And I really didn't care.

On the heels of several days of caution to the wind noshing, a work email caught my attention.  Our Wellness Center will be having a Biggest Loser contest.  While I am feeling like the Biggest Loser right now, that's not quite what they have in mind.

I thought back to this same contest from two years ago.  Two years ago, I was on the team that won this very contest.  I was committed and really, really worked to do so.   There were other people counting on me to succeed.

While I am not necessarily a competitive person by nature, I am very much dedicated to the team spirit.  I don't want to disappoint anyone or be the one factor that could cause us to miss a goal.  I also want to do it for me, to prove that I am not a quitter...I am NOT a loser.

So, while the journey is still feels endless, and my feet still feel leaden and burdened, I am pushing on.

One step at a time.

Pure Imagination

Come with me

And you'll be

In a world of 

Pure Imagination

With each passing day, I grow more and more amazed at the little person gifted to me.  

One of my favorite things to watch my son do is create his own world.  Today, it is talking dinosaurs and invisible flowers (a gift just for me).  He is constantly creating his own games with rules that change.  He is able to take something as simple as a cardboard box and small figures and create a whole world.  

With each generation, it seems that the time for children to BE children gets shorter and shorter.  Whether it is circumstance of life or simply the way of our world, it saddens me.  

As Z gets older, I find the changes bittersweet.  I love watching him develop and grow.  At just over four years old, he can get dressed on his own and has an opinion about everything.  Even with that, he still is little boy in that he lives for his blankie and loves to cuddle.   He gets wound up and runs like a madman...and then curls up to snuggle to sleep.

Right now, I fight to keep his imagination alive.  I nurture the dreams and build the cities.  I enter the world he creates and allow him to build his dream world around us, taking us to magical places with magical people.

And for every day that he builds this world, I will come.  I will build the forts and feed the animals and pretend that we are the wranglers and dinosaurs, cats, turtles, and lobsters.  

Because, at the end of the day, "we are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams."