Perception

"Don't be afraid of the X in front of that L, honey."

-Angelina Santiago

I detest shopping.  I always have.  When your clothes are twice as expensive as the rest, clearance means you're paying a smaller person's full price, and your selection is limited, there's not much joy to be had in shopping.  Add in that I am tall with an above average shoe size and shopping for myself is a miserable experience.

Or rather, was a miserable experience. 

At my heaviest, there were 5 or 6 X's in front of that L.  My selection was limited to items with glitter splayed across the chest amid motifs of flowers not found in nature.  Why yes, please, I'd love to look like a sparkly couch.  That's been my desire:  to have my girth not hidden but designed to catch attention as far as the eye can see. 

Since the surgery, I haven't really noticed my clothes changing.  It almost always has to be pointed out to me.  It's not until I bend over and nearly lose my pants that I think maybe these ARE a little big now.

You see, I'm still that lady.  Mentally, I am still the owner of those X's.  They follow me around like a prison sentence.  My perception is that I need them.  They are comforting.  They cover my shape, they keep attention at bay, and no one laughs if I think I'm invisible.

The reality is that I WASN'T invisible at 380 pounds.  The extra weight didn't protect me or provide a barrier, it made me more visible.  It drew attention like a magnet:  nearly all of it negative.  Stares, smirks, whispers, full out demeaning comments from those brave enough to just berate me out loud; I've been subjected to it all.

I was fully prepared for it to happen again.

You see, we just recently returned from vacation.  I had to walk into one of my biggest fears:  a theme park.  About three years ago (in the midst of my first round of weight loss), I got stuck.  I thought I'd lost enough to ride a ride at a fair.  Not so much.  I had to wiggle myself out of a swinging seat in front of what felt like a million people. 

As I stood in line with my rollercoaster buddy (AKA, my son), I could feel that anxiety welling up.  What if I don't fit?  What if I have to get right back up in front of all these people? What if I disappoint him?

With a 45 minute wait to the front of the line and plenty of people smaller than me to look at, I just KNEW there was no way I was going to be able to ride.  At the end of the wait, I sat down.  Pulled the lap bar across me...and heard the buzz that indicated it was locked.

It. Was. Locked.

I. Fit.

No stares.  No smirks.  No whispers.  Just me, my son, 167 feet, and 65 MPH of pure triumph.  I was able to ride on everything I wanted.  It was amazing.

On the way back, we stopped for a little shopping.  I know I need new work clothes, and I'm trying to space out purchases as much as possible to not have to buy repeatedly.  I held an XXL up to me, thinking it might be a little snug.  My mom's response?

"That's too big."

And she was right. All the tops I purchased now only have one X in front of that L.   Another top, with a more formed style, was purchased for when I could fit it later. 

It. Fits.

So that's the current focus:  working to change my perception of what fits.  Not just in clothing, but in size.  I'm not the scared girl who needs to hide behind food to be comfortable.  I no longer have to fear that I won't fit, because I fit me.  I fit my family.  I fit in this world exactly as I'm meant to fit. 

Yes, it's going to continue to change.  I know (sort of) that I'm going to eventually lose the X in front of that L. 

But for now:

It. Fits.

A Step Back

pic via www.ccvend-usa.com

I felt it was important, before I get into the current journey, to step back and look at how I got to the point of exploring bariatric surgery in the first place.  I own it.  It's mine. 

But that wasn't always the case.

While I'm not big on most reality shows, I've been watching My 600 Pound Life for many years.  I was always curious to see how people managed to get that size, because I wasn't yet willing to acknowledge how I'd gotten myself to 379.6 pounds. 

In previous seasons, Dr. Now has only made his patients prove they could lose weight before he agreed to perform the procedures.  That has led some of the patients to struggle to own the underlying causes of their obesity.  

I say that to mean that if you watch the show, most of the patients have abandonment issues, have dealt with physical, mental, or emotional abuse, and/or have depression or anxiety.   Without addressing those underlying issues, it's difficult to be able to create a new reality.

In the most recent season, nearly every patient has undergone some type of therapy.  Dr. Now might have done this with other patients before, but this is the first season where it was very clearly shown. 

Early on, I only owned that the fact that I have PCOS was keeping me from losing weight.  With the condition, it's very easy to put weight on.  But each pound you put on becomes a beast to take off again.  So, that's what I used.  I couldn't lose weight because the PCOS didn't let me.  I'd take some off, put some back, take less off, put more back on.   

Finally, just after I turned 30, I realized that I'd have to do something different to have something different.  I had to own the fact that while PCOS might have been the biological cause, there was at least another reason:  I LOVE FOOD. 

I love to eat all those wonderful things that aren't good for me:  egg rolls, chow mein noodles, fried rice, French fries, hamburgers...augmented by the occasional sweet or cake. 

I worked to change my relationship with food.  I knew eliminating them all and saying "I can't have this" only led to guilt and binging when I slipped.  So, I started by refusing to feel guilty for eating the "bad" foods.  I really tried to see that those foods are made every day, so I didn't need to eat as much of them as possible.    I subbed a small order of fries for a supersized one.  I subbed a salad for the side with my cheeseburger. 

And it worked for a while.  I was able to lose, in total, about 115 pounds.   And then some of it crept back.  I struggled to get any more of the weight off, and I began restricting even more of what I was eating.  That still didn't bring the scale down any more.

I started the sleeve process in February of 2014.  Two weeks in, I learned E was coming.  So, I delayed (obviously).  I hadn't gained any weight during my pregnancy, but I started my pregnancy about 30 pounds lighter than my lowest in the last few years.   After she was born, I focused on my eating and worked to slowly drop the weight again.  No matter what I did, it seemed like it wasn't going anywhere. 

Because I was struggling with postpartum anxiety, I had already started on medicine.  I also decided before I'd take any other steps, I was going to really address the underlying cause of my obesity.

Protection.  My fat was comfortable.  I understood that life.  Trauma of my childhood led me to keep my weight on as a shield.  It was also one of the driving forces of my anxiety.  I feared for my child, my children really.  I struggled with how I might make their lives different.

I knew that before I could venture back into the sleeve process, I HAD to release myself from that prison.  I needed to make sure that I could handle being the person without the physical protection I'd carried for so many years.

I went looking for a psychiatrist who specialized in helping bariatric patients.  I found another Dr. R.  I met with her for several weeks, talking through my struggles, my stresses, my triggers.  I didn't have to be brave; I didn't have to be strong; I didn't have to keep it together.  I was able to be vulnerable, something I'd always avoided because I have to be the strong one.

After several weeks, I decided that I was ready to move forward.  I still have moments where I battle those fears, but now I can recognize them for what they are, talk myself through them, and move forward.

It was only when I could do that: own the eating, understand the cause, manage them, that I knew I could have the surgery.



********
Again, my journey.  You have to do what you do for you, meaning talk to your own physicians and make your own choices.  This is not a substitute for medical advice.  :)

 

In For A Penny, To Lose A Few Pounds

photo via livescience.com

Over a year ago, I started down this path.  My journey was derailed for the best and cutest reason.  As my daughter hit six months old, the continued concern of how long I'd have my health reared its ugly head.

Would I be able to keep up with two children?  How do I find the energy to meet both their needs?

The answer brought me back to the need to lose weight.  I had tried to capitalize on the weight lost after E's birth, only to find that my hormone changes had made losing weight a struggle.  I tracked my eating, reduced my carbs, began walking.

In four weeks time, I'd taken off a whopping three pounds.  Not exactly setting the world on fire.

So, A and I revisited the idea of bariatric surgery.  Since I'd taken precautions to prevent another surprise bundle (ahem), I was confident that we could just pick up where we left off.

There were a few steps to complete that were the same:  psych eval, support group, pre-op class, revisit with nutritionist and surgeon.  I had decided to switch to the other doctor in the office who performs the surgery, based on word of mouth.  It was a good choice.  Dr. R is a Christian man, married, who has struggled with infertility.   He is kind and compassionate, and he has a clear desire to help his patients.

There was one change I wasn't anticipating.

In the year since I had surgery, my insurance company changed requirements.  Where they previously required a letter of medical necessity, they now wanted six consecutive months of documented attempts at controlling weight.    I completely get why.  This is NOT a decision to be taken lightly.

Knowing that is one thing.  Realizing you could be so close and yet possibly so far was another.  

My stomach sank with that news.  I had been working on it for over six months, but I wasn't sure it was documented. Here's where my postpartum anxiety actually came in handy.  Due to medicine changes, I had checked in with my OBGYN almost every month since E was born...the exception was April.

My surgeon set a goal of a 20 pound weight loss and a follow up appointment.  I was given "the book" for how to eat and sent on my way to wait and see if I could get the approval for surgery.

As I was leaving, I asked if I could move my appointment up if I lost the 20 pounds faster than 6 weeks.

The nurse simply smiled and handed me the appointment card.


*******************************************************************************

Disclaimer:  this is MY journey and is in no was a substitution for advise from your own physician.  I definitely recommend research and discussing options with your doctor.   Don't just take it from a lady on the internet :)

Clean Eating

photo mine

For the last six months, I've really been focused on changing the way my family eats.  It started with working to remove any item with high fructose corn syrup.  I also began reducing the number of overly processed items in our home.  When some other family health issues arose, I made some other major changes.  Much more fresh foods, more green leafy vegetables, fewer chemicals.  

Add in the removal of soda from my diet and a move to one cup of coffee per day, with more water thrown in for balance, and I've really been working at the way I eat.  That makes this next step a little easier.

Part of the process for surgery approval requires meeting with a nutritionist to work through current eating habits and changes that have to happen prior to surgery.   Heather, the nutritionist, is a very nice vegetarian with genuine concern for the patients she serves.  You can tell that our best interests are at the forefront of what she does.

photo mine

The meal plan she assigned was very similar to my meal plan with Dr. B. There is one LARGE change.  With Dr. B, I was able to have a solid, warm breakfast.  With Heather, I get this: 

One cold, chunky strawberry protein shake (which is actually not that bad) and 1/4 cup of almonds (not pictured).   I tried vanilla first, but since I'm a snob about the taste of vanilla and refuse to drink or ingest any kind of imitation vanilla flavor, it didn't work out so well. 

Since I've gotten used to being able to eat a warm breakfast to start my day, this has taken a bit of adjustment.   It was also a challenge when we were travelling this week in trying to both deal with my family getting real breakfast (mmm, gravy and biscuits) and trying to find milk (note to self:  find non-dairy milk, no matter where you are. There was a real reason I gave up dairy).  

Another rule is the 30/30:  no drinking 30 minutes before and until 30 minutes after a meal.  Which means no drinking during the meal.  This is rather problematic for me, since I tend to get the hiccups if I don't drink anything.  I am now the last member of my family to finish eating, since I have to stop after each bite to make sure I don't choke.  There are still some items that have me clock watching after I eat them.  

Last big one is P&P:  with each meal, I can have meat, veggies, and a complex carb (there's a list).  I have to eat the P&P (protein and produce) first to ensure the pressure receptors around my stomach get triggered, then I can finish with the carb if there's space.  A lot of times, I'm finding I'm not able to finish eating all of the allotted carb because I'm too full.  

photo; my camera, taken by an obliging stranger

Thankfully, through all of this, I have a really great support system.   My family and friends understand my dietary limitations and exercise needs.  During our trip, we went to restaurants with menu items that fit what I needed.  They helped me meet my 5000 step per day minimum goal (even trekking up the hill of our resort when I was short after a day of driving).  And they even trudged through the cold rain to become the most colorful bunch of awesome ever to finish the Happiest 5K on Earth.

I've been mostly successful with the plan (minus a snafu with the understanding of milk needs in my house).  It will help me to create the habits that are critical to develop now, as they will carry over into post-surgery necessity.  It will also help me meet the pre-surgery weight loss goal set for me by the surgeon.

**Disclaimer: this is informational only and not to be used as a substitute for medical advice.   Talk to YOUR doctors about the best option for you.  Find a nutritionist who'll create the best plan for you: with or without surgery.  

Steps

photo from greatbigcanvas.com

I am nothing if not meticulous.  I rarely act spontaneously, which can be a blessing and a curse.  In this case, I'm counting it as a blessing.    I like to research.  So, with our decision to move forward with bariatric surgery, I went searching for information.

The bariatric center here does three types of bariatric surgery:  gastric band, gastric sleeve, or roux-en-gastric bypass.  They are a bariatric center of excellence, which is very impressive since Vanderbilt was previously the only hospital to hold that distinction.  Step one is to attend a seminar and fill out a mountain of paperwork.  During the seminar, you get information on all three procedures and are left with making that decision.

So, me being me, I went in search of I found tons of info: medical journals, patient blogs, good experiences, bad experiences, and tons of YouTube videos.    I did this while waiting for step two, which was for my doctor to write a letter supporting my decision to look into surgery.

I have to preface that I'm not grossed out by much. Actually, I find the tool used that cuts and staples the stomach at the same time rather fascinating.  I've watched surgery videos, looked at complications, and weighed the pros and cons of each option.  I've also watched a large number of food documentaries (understanding that you have to take some of those with a grain of salt).

On Thursday of last week, I met with steps three and four: nutrition and surgeon. I'll talk about each of those in turn in other posts.   As an aside:  all of the steps must be completed before insurance approval can be submitted.

For anyone looking at surgery as the "miracle" cure to obesity, I'll be the first to tell you it's not.  For me, I feel like I HAVE changed the way that I look at food.  I don't stress eat, eat out of boredom, and save one REALLY bad experiment, I've not eaten anything fried since last year.  I had one soda on Fat Tuesday in preparation for Lent, and that was the first soda I'd had since mid-January.  My plan is not to go back to them, even once Lent ends.

Yet, even with cleaning up my eating, focusing on getting moving, and getting my habits in check, I've experienced little in the way of true weight loss.  This brings me to my current plan of surgery exploration.  I supposed that's my why:  I don't feel like there is another option.  The weight comes off slowly, if at all, and once I try to go back to any kind of normal eating, some of it comes back.  It's a one step forward, two steps back process.  In order to protect my long term health, I've decided to take one really large step forward.



***Disclaimer:  again, this is my journey with my doctors.  This is informational only, not intended to be a substitute for seeking your own medical assistance.

Cutting the Fat

As I look back on what I've written, I continue to see a recurring theme:  weight.  Or more specifically for me, weight loss.  No matter the attempts made, the struggles seem to be never ceasing.  I feel like I've been dieting for the majority of my life.  And in reality, I have.

The issue for me isn't how unhealthy I am now.  While I am classified as morbidly obese with a BMI of just over 44, I have no co-morbidities.  My total cholesterol (as of last week) was 161, blood pressure was 100/60, and all my other levels were within normal range.  With the exception of the orthopedic issues I have, I don't fall into the normal problems most obese people have.  At least, I don't right now.

The question lately has been:  how long will that last?  I am, ummm, slightly over 30, and I do suffer from PCOS.  Without proper weight management, PCOS can lead to Type 2 Diabetes and Heart Disease: the number one killer of women.   Time to manage the weight, before it manages me.

It just so happened that a friend of mine mentioned he was getting ready to have gastric sleeve surgery.  I know others who've made the same decision, so I went seeking more information.

Our local hospital, a bariatric surgery center of excellence, has seminars several times a month for potential patients to learn the plus and minuses of the different surgery options.  Hubs and I attended the seminar, and after some debate, have decided together to move forward with reviewing the options.

I have thought a couple of times about if I wanted to share this or not.  I'm sure I'm going to get lots of "why's" and "well, can't you just DIET's."  I have also decided I'm not going to answer those questions.  I might get around to the "why" part of it, just as I detail the journey.

This is my family's journey.  I can't make a decision for anyone else, and I don't at ALL claim to be a healthcare professional.

We'll see how this turns out.


***Disclaimer:  this is not meant to be a substitute for medical advice from your medical professional.  This is for informational purposes only.  PLEASE make your own decisions, with your own doctors, and with your own needs in mind. 

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.

Food, Glorious Food

Courtesy Fellow Cruiser

If you have been on a cruise, then you are well aware of how wonderful the food is.

And how much of it there is to be found.

If you desired, you could really eat 24 hours a day.  There are the basic sandwiches and pizza, to sushi, buffet, exquisitely prepared dishes, and on our ship, the Steakhouse.

The food is phenomenal.   You can have it prepared any way you choose, in any combination.

I took the trip as an opportunity to expand my culinary horizons.  I chose dishes that I might otherwise pass up.

The one meal that fell most outside my comfort zone was Seafood Newburg.  It was touted as a wonderfully rich seafood stew with a side of saffron infused rice and broccoli.

As a note: I love seafood.  If it lives its life under the water, it is highly possible that I will eat it.  The exception in the past has been mussels (and non-sustainable seafood).  I have tried to eat the large version. The chewy, funky texture was just more than I could handle.  I had sworn them off forever.

So, Seafood Newburg seemed like a fantastic idea.  With the ingredients listed as scallops, shrimp, and lobster, I thought I was safe.

Imagine my surprise when the plate placed before me not only had two small mussels in their black shell homes circling the plate, but also had them nestled in the creamy sauce along with the plump shrimp, succulent scallops, and juicy chunks of lobster meat.

There really were only two choices here:  1.  Eat around them.  2. Let go of the past and dig in.

For a brief moment, I considered option number 1.  The idea of eating the little slugs really almost did me in.  But, I figured in for a penny, in for a pound.  When you are surrounded by wait staff who have given up eight months of their lives to earn money for their families in poor, 3rd world countries, wasting food just seems wrong.  Unless it is really inedible or there was an allergy concern, I couldn't even consider wasting a meal.

So, I dug in.

And they were awesome!  That slug-like texture of the larger mussels was absent in the smaller version.  They complemented the other seafood wonderfully and were just amazing.

From a ship perspective, it was one of my two favorite meals.

Rich, decadent, and adventurous.

Food, glorious food.

Giving Up

This past week, I gave it all up.

I threw in the towel and decided I have had enough.

All this food restriction, exercising, hunger, and changing of my food relationship have just left me a different person.

You see - the cruise is now in just under three days, and two weeks ago, I had absolutely nothing to wear (literally).  I scoured online sites looking for clothes that I could take, realizing that they are few and far between because Spring clothes just aren't out yet.

After finding a couple of gems (clearance from last year's Spring/Summer collection), I still needed more to take with me.  So, I made the decision to unearth a few totes that have taken up residence in my closet over the years.

Every time I have tried to lose weight in the past, I hold on to my larger sizes.  I am not sure if it's this idea that I am going to fail or just prudence on my part because every other time I have failed.

But this time, as I was digging through the items and finding Spring/Summer clothes that now fit again (yeah me!), I realized something.

I am NEVER going to be that person again.  I have worked too hard to even allow the idea that I might fail to enter the picture.

And so, with a very light heart, I bagged up the clothes that are now too large and packed them off to my local Goodwill dropoff.  They have a mission in which I believe and work diligently to employ those who might otherwise struggle to find a job.  It is almost impossible to find good condition plus sized clothes at Goodwill, mainly because the cost of them means they get worn until they are nearly falling apart and unable to be donated.   So, the clothes are serving a great purpose and will hopefully soon find new homes.

And with that, I have given up.  I have given up the idea of failure.  I have given up thinking food is going to make anything better.

And I have given up on giving up on myself.  

Heavy

While I was perusing the endless world of On Demand searching for "something special" per request of Z, I saw a commercial for "Heavy," a new series on A&E.  In the same tradition of "Intervention" and "Hoarders," "Heavy" focuses on two individuals looking to save their lives by changing their eating and exercise habits.  

Rather than focus on weight loss surgeries (which I believe to be entirely necessary for some people, but that's another post), the show takes two people out of their lives for 30 days to work solely on retraining them in the areas of food and weight loss.  They employ trainers, dietitians, and therapists to ensure that all aspects are addressed.   There is no competition here.  No prizes to be won, other than getting life back.

So, I thought I'd take a peek.

I was very struck by Jodi (one of the participants) on the first show.  In the middle of exercising, she had a breakdown.  It's one that I have had time and time again.

You see, when I have started on this journey in the past, I have been excited about the beginning.  I go in with guns blazing, knowing that I am going to do it this time.  I am not going to fail.

Jodi was the same way, but she found herself stumbling over the same roadblock I have in the past: the expectation that you should be doing more.  It's the idea that you can take it off in an instant.  That you should be dropping pounds like sweat.  You have spent so much time ignoring yourself that you expect to be superwoman.  And you have watched so many episodes of "The Biggest Loser," that you believe it's completely normal to lose 8-10 pounds a week (not outside the highly regimented life of The Ranch, it's not).

For me, when that didn't happen before, I gave up.  I figured if I couldn't see immediate results, then it meant I had failed...again.  But this time, it's different.

And I have no idea why.

Ever since I had a Twitter conversation with Holli a couple of weeks ago, I have been trying to find the answer. I know my relationship with food is different, I just don't know why.  I know that I have stopped looking at it as "I only lost X pounds/ounces, whatever" this week and now think "Sweet!  Lighter than last week!," but again, I don't know why.

And, while I wait for that answer to come to me, I keep pressing on.  I look at how far I have come.  I am now six pants sizes and two shirt sizes smaller.  I play with my son, and he doesn't have to slow down.  I enjoy finding new ways to eat my old favorite foods, and I have discovered that I really do like to cook.

My journey is far from over.  But I no longer think I have miles and miles left to go.  I enjoy my small victories and know that I am making changes that will last a lifetime.  I know that I am teaching my son to have a healthy relationship with food and a love of being active.

As a check-in, I am almost halfway to the 30 pounds I wanted to lose before the cruise leaves in March.  WHEN I make it, I will be a total of 60 pounds lighter (which is the average weight of a 9 year old boy).

On the eve of the six month anniversary of the start of this journey, I am healthier and happier than I have been in such a long time.  I love me.  Not in the egotistical, narcissistic way.  But in the way that drives me to be better for myself.

In the end, maybe that's the answer.  Maybe it has to be about me first.

And now, it is.