When I was a kid, I loved Corn Husker’s Lotion. Not because it did anything particularly great for my skin, though. Corn Husker’s was a goopy sort of clear-ish lotion in a bottle, and I loved to turn the clear glass bottle upside down and watch the bubbles rise to the top.

This was one of many simple distractions that kept me busy on summer days when I couldn’t go swimming or play with friends, although those were rare days. I grew up across the street from a lake, and more often than not, if I wasn’t swimming, I was in a canoe or a small sailboat, or on a bike, or hiking a trail with friends. There were the days when there was nothing to do, though, so I took my joys where I could get them. And sometimes, that was a Corn Husker’s bottle.

I’ve spoken, here, of all the various activities we had planned for this year, only to watch one after another fall apart. I’m not a Netflix person, unless I have no other choice; I’d rather be outside if given a choice. I’ve done lots of reading. Of course, there’s been work to do, too — as well as house cleaning, taking care of my mother, and the various normal things that happen around here during the summer.

It’s been especially frustrating since both hubby and I have been walking miles every morning, keeping our bodies working, looking forward to hikes and trips and lots of other fun stuff that, well, isn’t happening. I haven’t been more capable of physical activity in many years. But here we are; even attempts at camping, which is nearly as socially distanced as you can get, have fallen by the wayside. It’s a struggle for the best of us to keep a good attitude during these times, but I’m eternally thankful that I’m not in the mental place I was years ago before I started this journey. I’m not so sure I would have been able to meet the challenges we face, now.

So when hubby mentioned getting a pool, I admit I laughed at him. That’s one thing both of us have missed about camping; just the simple ability to float around in the water on a hot summer’s day, relax, watch the clouds float by overhead. I admit I wasn’t for the idea at all, since I figured he wanted a BIG pool — if you know my husband, you know he doesn’t do anything on a small scale. It was an attempt to at least be able to have something else to enjoy about our home, since we are here all the time these days. But even that attempt wasn’t going to work, since everyone else in the world had the same idea and there are no pools to be found.

Well… until a friend texted me and offered a small inflatable pool. I told hubby. We went and looked at it; I guess in my mind, I figured it was a kiddie pool, like the kind I had for my daughter when she was a toddler, but even those are hard to find right now. No, we were both wrong; it was 15 feet wide, a little higher than waist high. Just enough to float around in and watch the clouds float overhead.

So, as redneck as it might seem, we now have a pool in the backyard, tucked between the house and our outdoor seating, surrounded by our veggie garden and MANY trees. I don’t know that it’ll last longer than this year, but it’s our Corn Huskers; a simple thing to keep us happy and distracted, another little nicety that makes the days a bit less tedious and more endurable. More often than not, our late afternoons and evenings are out in the pool, or grilling not far from it, with a picnic dinner within view of both. We can float there, gossip about the neighbors, watch hummingbirds light on the feeders, and listen to music.

Anything any of us can do to keep us a little sane, a little happy, is worth the time.

In one of my favorite books, Douglas lives through a childhood summer in his small town in Illinois early in the 20th century. It’s a nostalgic book about the good and pure things of summer, including Douglas’ desire for a new pair of tennis shoes. He’s just managed to earn the money to buy them from Mr. Sanderson, a merchant; they’re on his feet and the magic starts.

“Stop!” cried the old man.

Douglas pulled up and turned.

Mr. Sanderson leaned forward.

“How do they feel?” The boy looked down at his feet deep in the rivers, in the fields of wheat, in the wind that already was rushing him out of the town. He looked up at the old man, his eyes burning, his mouth moving, but no sound came out.

“Antelopes?” said the old man, looking from the boy’s face to his shoes. “Gazelles?”

The boy thought about it, hesitated, and nodded a quick nod. Almost immediately he vanished. He just spun about with a whisper and went off. The door stood empty. The sound of the tennis shoes faded in the jungle heat.

Mr. Sanderson stood in the sun-blazed door, listening. From a long time ago, when he dreamed as a boy, he remembered the sound. Beautiful creatures leaping under the sky, gone through brush, under trees, away, and only the soft echo of their running left behind.

“Antelopes,” said Mr. Sanderson. “Gazelles.”

He bent to pick up the boy’s abandoned winter shoes, heavy with forgotten rains and long-melted snows. Moving out of the blazing sun, walking softly, lightly, slowly, he headed back toward civilization.

Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

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Last Friday, I did something I haven’t done in well over a decade: I bought myself a decent pair of walking shoes, made for the purpose, and not off the Walmart shelves. I remember buying the only decent pair I ever owned back in roughly 2007, when I was walking miles a day and felt as if it was time to do it. Needless to say, those shoes wore out a long time ago, especially when I regained weight and my gait changed.

That’s one of the odd things about losing a lot of weight; not only did my feet change size, but the way I wore out my shoes changed, since I basically lumbered when I walked. As time went on, arthritic knees amplified that. Although I had lost most of my weight before having total knee replacement, I quickly discovered that my previous gait changed; not only were my knees straight and pointing the right direction (I was slightly pigeon-toed on one side), but with physical therapy, my walk changed.

While I don’t have video of me walking as a morbidly obese woman, and then before and after knee replacement, I needed to look no further than the soles of my shoes. In fact, after surgery, any shoes with any wear at all got donated because it was difficult to walk in them.

After surgeries and as I started building up the miles, again, walking for longer distances each day, I knew I’d eventually have to ditch my Walmart cheapo shoes in favor of something that would withstand my walks and treat my feet better; having a decently made pair of shoes that fit right makes a huge difference, and last Monday morning, as I started my morning walk, I thought “well, they feel good now, but what about in another three miles or so?” So I set out in my neighborhood, and quickly realized that the fit was good enough to do my full morning 5K distance.

I admit it was a purchase I should have made long ago, but I put it off. The shoes I bought were definitely more of an investment, and it occurs to me that even though I’ve been working hard on my health, there’s part of me that really didn’t think I deserved spiffy new walking shoes. Who am I to want to strap on a pair of magical shoes and dream of being a beautiful creature, leaping under the sky, only the soft echo of my steps behind? Antelopes? Gazelles?

The shoes are a commitment to continue the hard work, and maybe that’s why I hesitated. I’ve ditched such things after making the commitment before. But it’s up to me to strap them on each morning and take the first steps of the day, and while I don’t think I’ve felt like a gazelle in a new pair of tennies since childhood, they do feel good on my feet and make me want to take a few steps more each day, which might be the entire point.

Last Sunday, we set out to go camping for the week. We got everything packed in our truck and camper, loaded up the dog, and took off for one of our favorite campgrounds — only to find out when we got there that we didn’t have a reservation. After some discussion and disappointment, we made the decision to drive back home instead of chancing a different campground.

I admit I had really been looking forward to this particular camping trip; not just because it’s one of my favorite locations, but because I needed a break from how we’ve been living for the past several months. I needed a change. And so this week, rather than just go back to routine, we’ve both been changing things up a bit just for the variety and for the brain break. This has included my weight loss efforts; I’ve become so wound up about reaching my goals that I’ve needed to step away. Our bodies occasionally need a shake up, as well.

Next week, I’ll go back to my routine, but I believe the way I’ve kept my sanity for going on seven years, now, has been realizing that there ARE times when you have to give yourself a bit of a break, to relax, to bring yourself back to why you make the effort in the first place. That’s what vacations are for, at least for me; it’s a step away from the norm to enjoy something you’ve been dreaming of.

If given the choice, I’d sure prefer sitting lakeside and cooking bacon and eggs in the early sunrays of morning. Or, for that matter, a breakfast mimosa on a Mexican resort. Or a stroll down a busy historic avenue in the early evening. All of these experiences were things we had planned for this year, but have had to cancel plans (or have them canceled for us) because, during this pandemic, many of those experiences come with risks that they didn’t previously. Camping is a pretty safe pandemic activity, but despite best efforts, our two most recent camping trips couldn’t happen because of things beyond our control.

When things happen that we don’t expect, we can choose our reactions. Do we let the unexpected derail us, or do we figure out a way to make things work?

In our case, we had already made plans, bought food, planned the week — so we simply relocated to our own backyard. We’ve cooked hamburgers and hot dogs on our own grill instead of a camp grill. We’ve floated around in our little backyard pool instead of the lake. We’ve sat out and enjoyed the sounds of the night and the lightning bugs rising in the grass around us. We’ve done the bacon and egg thing, too. While I miss the chance to be outside in a different place, we do what we have to do.

It would be far too easy, especially now, to let the unexpected steer my course, and start to chip away at my resolve — but I built and nurtured that resolve to withstand the storms, and I won’t fail, now.

As I hover just above my low weight, waiting to finally break through to 200 pounds lost, I’ve been anticipating making the announcement that I’ve passed that landmark. But I haven’t, yet. I’m just above it, but it’ll be soon. My shot is coming!

Instead of my normal meanderings, I’m going to answer a few questions that readers submitted to me, both publicly and privately.

How do you deal with cravings?

For me personally, there are two major kinds of cravings. The first is caused by blood sugar, usually an insulin response I’ve had to something that tastes sweet (and that includes artificial sweeteners). If my blood sugar goes a little wonky, my body is more likely to crave food. To curb these, I control carb intake, as well as supplement with chromium, which can help control blood sugar. There are several such supplements than can help in that regard, but remember, I’m not a doctor — which is one of the big reasons I don’t discuss my own particular regimen.

The second is totally mental, and that’s the one that is the bigger challenge. While I don’t consider myself an emotional eater, I’ve found that to be a bit less true during the COVID-19 pandemic. I’ve had more woe-is-me moments that, at least for a moment, suggested that the world’s ills could be cured with a Sonic Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Blast. I have to work through those moments, if they’re major challenges that truly upset me; I know if I were to give in to the evils of Sonic, I’d regret it later. If they’re minor flashes through my mind, I look for distractions. I stay busy whenever possible. I get out and walk, if it’s really bad.

And — while I rarely do this — sometimes, at night, I’ll treat myself to a full fledged anything-goes meal, complete with 5 star service. It’s totally imaginary, though. I know what everything I want to eat tastes like, already, so I imagine myself sitting at a that meal, no matter how weird the combo may be, no matter how outrageous the amounts. Usually, by dessert, I’m asleep, and the craving is long gone.

How do you still drink (alcohol)?

While I fully enjoy playing a lush online, I do limit my drinking forays. 😉 The truth is that if I drink too much, I end up doing intensely silly stuff, like having a beer fight in the backyard with my husband. (This actually happened a few weeks ago.) I try to listen to my body and back off if I start feeling anything more than a bit happy. Not eating much in the way of carbs means that alcohol carbs hit me pretty quickly, so I plan what I drink and when. I also try to be inventive with drinks, so I’m more likely to savor them slowly rather than chug them.

I also don’t really like “diet” alcohol drinks because I don’t trust what’s in them. An example: low carb seltzers are all the rage, right now, but if you’re really counting carbs, and you plan to have several, 2 carbs a can will add up over the course of a July 4th celebration, for instance. I’d rather add vodka to flavored seltzer myself and it’s 2 less carbs. (I’m specifically talking about sugar carbs and not alcohol carbs, here.)

How do you maintain motivation in the midst of setbacks?

That’s one of the biggest things I’ve grappled with over the years. I’ve ended some really stellar losses by just tossing my hands up and eating ALL.THE.THINGS, undoing all the work I had done.

Motivation, for me, is a lot like a roller coaster. I am not always strong. Challenges come, sometimes progress works against me and I start deviating from my work a little too much. If something isn’t working, sometimes I have to take a step back and make sure I’m on the right path; even after all this time, I find I need to correct my course on occasion.

When times are especially challenging, I have to look at the small picture instead of the bigger one. I find things that give me small successes that I can take joy in, even if that means that for one day, I was in control of my decisions, even if some of them weren’t the right ones. When I first started this journey, just the mere action of taking control of what I put in my mouth meant I was in control of something, even if I wasn’t yet seeing a change on the scale or the tape measure.

Even now, I work on small goals rather than huge ones. Had I set out to lose 200 pounds, I would have immediately given up the whole idea as ludicrous. But I knew I could lose 50, so that’s what I set my goal at. Once I reached that, I added another 50 as a goal. Now, my goal is 1.8 pounds away (at the time of this writing), and once I’ve achieved that goal, I have 10 more after that. Setting micro goals has kept me moving forward for a long time, and since it still works, I’ll probably still keep with those small goals for as long as necessary.

How do you stay on track when the rest of the family eats whatever they want and doesn’t need to restrict certain foods?

As I’m writing this, my husband finished off some dutch chocolate ice cream, so you bet I can relate! It’s a good thing he’s not a fan of pretzels, or I’d be a goner.

It’s tougher, I think, with children — and I don’t currently have children in my home. I think it pays to develop strategies that work for you. Sometimes that might mean a compromise, where you substitute a food you can eat while the family enjoys a treat so you can participate in a food centered activity (popcorn during a movie at home, for instance) so you don’t feel left out/different. If you know the family wants a meal or food you want to restrict for yourself, and you want them to have it, such occasions might be a good time to indulge in something for yourself that you particularly enjoy.

It does help to have an understanding with your family, especially your spouse. Mine knows I dislike the smell of some of the candy he really likes to eat (hello, Strawberry Twizzlers! You smell like stale PlayDough!), and that I’m not about to eat some of the things he really likes. Since it’s just the two of us, though, we’ll work out nights where we eat what we choose for ourselves, or he’ll get a pizza and order hot wings for me. That’s more difficult with families, but not entirely impossible, depending on your chosen foods.

How can someone over 50 lose weight and not develop wrinkles in the fat-depleted skin of the neck, breasts, arms, and buttocks?

When you find out, let me know! 😀

Honestly, that’s a tough one. I have known people who have honestly favored remaining overweight instead of risking wrinkles and skin folds from excess skin. Personally, I I have a lot of excess skin, but I’ve also grown to accept it. I fully realize that for some folks, that’s possibly an insurmountable task.

There are some methods that reportedly can reduce or help the situation. One is skin brushing, though I know very little about it. Another is autophagy, accomplished with extended fasting methods. Some swear it helps; while I do fast on occasion, removing a good 25 or so pounds of excess skin through autophagy would be nothing short of a miracle.

I’ll say this, though: I thought I’d be one big sagging bag of skin. While I have excess skin in places I don’t tend to show off (I am NOT a belly dancer!), I haven’t had the damage I thought I would. I don’t miss my chins one bit. So why not give it a try and see what your body does for you?

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Thanks for the thoughtful questions!