Take It Easy

Feb24

I’m a stats girl. I like to see the progression of things, regardless of whether they’re spreadsheets, balance sheets, or weights and measurements.

I keep a desktop program to track my weight. When I start a new diet, I start a new file, and I’ve been working on the current one for nearly 3.5 years, so imagine my shock when I opened the program this morning and the wrong file opened. The file was from 2012, the last time I attempted to lose weight, and was labeled accordingly; in the history, there was also one from 2010. My current file started in 2013.

I panicked for a few seconds until I found the right file. Whew! I rested a lot easier, still a bit confounded that the one I’ve been using hadn’t automatically loaded, but then I opened the other two files to take a look out of curiosity. In 2010, I lost 51 pounds and then quit. In 2012, I lost 63 pounds, went on vacation, slid off the bandwagon, and regained all 63 pounds… plus about 35 more. In a little more than a year, no less.

This baby giraffe weighed in at 140 pounds at birth — and 5’10” tall.

After that, being able to record my all-time low for my 2013 file felt even more gratifying than normal. I’ve beat both those numbers combined — and not only that, but I’m on the verge of beating my all-time biggest number. I’ve been lucky enough to lose 140 pounds not just once — but twice; I knew I was beating the odds the first time, but twice? That’s likely pretty rare, and I mean to prevent the necessity of doing it a third time.

Rewinding a bit, I set out in 2013 not to break through that old number of 140.5 pounds (set in 2003-2005), but to get control of my eating and have one small thing I could feel better about. That’s all. I never held out any hope that I’d meet or exceed my old numbers, and believe me, I’m a competitive person at heart. I had no grand illusions that I’d do anything more than make an attempt to feel better. (On that note, though, I’m a mere half pound away from smashing that record! Hallelujah!)

I’ve written before that small increments add up, and I still firmly believe that; looking back at my current sheet, I have averaged .75 pounds loss per week. That’s far from an earth-shattering amount, and I personally know a ton of people who would be beyond frustrated to see such a slow loss on the scale.

I’m the proverbial tortoise; I’m sure there are plenty of folks who have needed to lose the kind of weight I have that have tried (and failed) several times during that 3.5 years, with losses and regains, but I’ve just kept plodding along. Those little losses have added up to more than I imagined possible.

In 2013, the difference between my weight and that 140.5 record was the equivalent of an entire adult human; now, it’s the equivalent of a small block of cheese.

I will gladly take the slow loss over the yoyo losses and gains; been there, done that. Even 140 pounds in, I still measure by tenths of a pound, rather than entire pounds; I am grateful for every ounce, every quarter of an inch, every time I notice my clothing is getting loose.

I’m not in a race, but chances are, I’m still going to win this by taking it slow and easy.

Bridge Over Troubled Water

Feb17

In the past, when I’ve intended to lose weight and have also claimed to have explored the mental processes as I lose, I failed.

I failed to continue losing weight. I failed at fixing the things in my brain that kept me where I was. I gave myself an out, and I took it — followed by regaining the weight. All of it. And more on top of it.

Because you see, I firmly believe that my weight is a symptom; a sign that my body has chosen to protect itself by layering on fat. But it’s not a protection, really, because enough layers will eventually kill me. Sure, I dream of wearing cute clothes as I continue to lose weight, but this is a fight for my life.

Give me calm waters and sunshine.

I’ve often referred to this process as a journey; in full disclosure, I really don’t like that term. This has been more than just traveling from one place to another; it has been a metamorphosis. It’s been a process of correction, rebuilding, learning, admission, change, and brutal self-examination. As I heal, I shed weight. I become healthier, both physically and mentally — and not every step of this is a pleasant process.

There have been times in my life where I have wallowed in the darker recesses of depression, unable to function. I’ve lived in fear of the smallest things. I’ve been frozen, knowing what I should be doing, but incapable of rousing myself to just get through a simple day, hour, moment. Those were the days where the demons ran rampant in my mind, and the darkest of thoughts were constantly lurking on the edges.

Depression is a dungeon that’s both a place of horror and of safety; enduring it is awful, but leaving it can be even more terrifying. Because I know that darkness, I have to remain on guard to keep those bridge trolls that would pull me under at bay.

Last week, something happened out of the blue that triggered stark memories of those desperate days. One moment, I was happy with my life as it was; the next, terrified by some past transgression and having to face it all over again.

I have fought hard to change myself, to evolve and remain steadfast against the mental anguish that I endured, and there are times that I can nearly pretend they were never there; that I never had to claw my way out of that dungeon. Rather than forget, I needed the reminder of what I had to do to get myself beyond that dark space, and that I can never truly assume the trolls have left that bridge.

It would be a mistake not to acknowledge that dark part of myself, as much as it would be a mistake to lose every ounce of weight, claim a goal, and then pretend as if I had never been obese. All of these things — the good, the bad, the ugly — are part of me; it’s up to me which part I feed and allow to grow. I am always capable of stumbling; all of us are.

This is the hardest work of the journey; it goes beyond simple matters like what I choose to put in my mouth, how much I move. It’s reaction, it’s change, it’s shining a light on those parts of myself that have tripped me in the past, and working on them so they never trip me, again.

Thanks to those of you who have been there to stand by me in the toughest of times; you have been part of my bridge over the troubled waters I have faced.

I Will Survive

Feb10

Weight loss update: I lost .4 pounds this week, but it’s not enough to change my ticker. Still — every ounce makes a difference; it’s the cumulative effort of small steps.

_______________________________

I met a young woman, yesterday, who was going through tough times. I was in a situation where I had no choice but to share my space with her, and she unloaded her life’s troubles on me. (Honestly, I must just have one of those faces where people feel comfortable telling me their life stories. This happens more than I care to admit. Perhaps I missed my calling as a psychiatrist.)

She is probably around my own daughter’s age — later 20’s — with two small children; one who is profoundly handicapped, and she doesn’t know who the father is. The other has a father but he and his family rarely participate in her life and they shun her. She had the expectation that they would include her in their family and they would love their oldest grandson, but this hasn’t been the case.

It’s not what happens to you — it’s how you choose to react. Bravo, seal!

Of her own family, her uncle has been in jail. Her mother didn’t want children, she says, and she feels no love. Her father died when she was 10 and her stepfather has always mistreated her. Her grandmother gives her some respite, but she has led a life of living on public assistance, being bounced from one place to the next, even being beaten by her son’s father, recently. What little she has, has been stolen.

As I listened to her, one thing became crystal clear: she sees herself as a victim with no control, prone to the things that happen to her, and none of them are good. I did not offer her advice — it wasn’t my place to do that, and the few words I said merely brought on more tales of woe.

I do feel bad for her and any other person who finds themselves in a similar situation, where they feel powerless over their own lives. And sure, you could easily say that she caused her own predicament by the choices she’s made.

The inability to accept responsibility for your lot in life is hardly rare, and it’s certainly not limited to poor single mothers. I’ve heard denials of life’s circumstances from people who live otherwise enviable lives. That inability is, unfortunately, part of the human condition and far from rare; it strikes people regardless of income, career choice, faith.

One of the reasons I believe that I’ve been successful on this weight loss journey is because one of the first things I did was take full responsibility for my situation. I used to blame my obesity on genetics; my paternal grandmother was a large woman, and my father tended toward the heavy side. Then I blamed it on circumstances; I deal with thyroid issues, as well as blood sugar issues.

Without sharing my laundry list of previous excuses, I took responsibility for them all. Taking responsibility is not a process of flogging myself for implied bad behavior and punishing myself. So many people see it that way — or that it lets someone who has done us harm off the hook for hurting us.

Taking responsibility involves two key process, the first of which is an acceptance of where you are right now. It’s both painful and powerful to know your starting weight on a diet; painful because you have to admit where you are, at this moment, and powerful because you have a starting point, and you will appreciate that information, later. With that acceptance of where you are, whether it’s weight or other factors in your life, brings an awareness that you possess the potential for change.

The second is internalizing the reasons why you are in the place you are in. When you actively work to pinpoint those reasons, you can look for ways to change your course. I may fight genetics, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do the best I can to counter them. I may suffer from medical issues, but I live in a time where I have resources to help me balance my body’s chemical imbalances. Accepting these things (and many others) have given me a path to change the outcome, which is within my power. After all, bad genetics didn’t make me eat too much pizza, and thyroid issues didn’t force me to eat that second (or third) cupcake. I did that.

I may not be able to change the things that got me to where I am at this point in my life, but I can choose my reactions. That’s a place of power and strength. The more I react positively to the bad things that happen, the less bad they seem, and the more progress I make.

If I were to pick the one difference between the young woman I met yesterday and myself, that would be it. I could have easily ended up in her shoes when I was young, tossed about by bad circumstances and feeling powerless to change, stuck in a life I didn’t want but hopeless to change it. But I found the courage to change my course before it swayed too far out of control. Looking back, I am constantly amazed that I found the strength to do that as a young woman, and that seedling that pushes me to keep reinventing myself as a master of my circumstances is still there. The more I use that ability, the stronger I become.

I’m well aware not everyone has that — or perhaps they do, and they don’t know how to ignite the fire needed to make abrupt and powerful changes; that’s something each person must find on their own. Change is always possible, but we have to be willing to try.

Me, Too

Feb3

Celebrate with me, my friends! I’ve lost 4 pounds this week, setting my new loss at 137.4 pounds down. I haven’t lost that much in one week in the better part of a year!

If you had asked me 3+ years ago how much weight I hoped to lose, I would have tried to stay positive and say “all of it — every last ounce of 200 pounds”. But I didn’t believe it. Not really.

I have failed so many times at achieving even the smallest amount of weight loss that I had very little faith in myself. That’s despite already knowing that I was once capable of losing 140.5 pounds, something very few people are able to achieve. I reasoned that if I did that once, I could do it, again, but it was lip service.

Oso the German Shepherd weighs in at 137 pounds. Who’s a goooood boy?

Truthfully, I faked it until I felt it; I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm until I had a few small victories and started regaining the faith in myself to succeed. Until I started feeling better. Looking back at my first pics now, I realize exactly how bad I felt, both physically and mentally. I looked miserable, and I felt just as miserable as I looked.

No, I haven’t lost 200 pounds, yet, but with each passing day, that possibility seems more real. Here I sit, on the brink of matching the huge weight loss I had several years back… and passing it by. In just a few measly pounds (3.1! Less than I lost this past week!), I’ll be in new territory; I will have lost the most weight I’ve ever lost. Many people never achieve big weight loss once; I’ve done it twice. And this will not be “three times a charm”; twice is plenty enough, thanks!

It’s a strange mental place to be in. I clearly remember hitting that first 140.5 mark — it was in 2005, I think. I even took a photo of the scales that morning. I was absolutely torturing myself to reach that mark; I was consumed with the idea of losing weight. I worked out a couple hours a day. My meals were regimented. I was totally obsessed with breaking through… and then I hit a two-year plateau. I managed to hover about twenty pounds above my low, but then just finally gave up.

This is what I meant when I recently wrote about programs which are sustainable in the long run. It’s also the reason that I believe I will succeed now, more so than any effort I’ve made, before.

This time, I’m not obsessed. Yes, I’m aware of what I put into my body, and I’m careful about it; but not to the point of being rigid and inflexible. Not to the point of not being able to forgive myself for the occasional deviation. I’m not working out a couple hours a day; in fact, I’ve been walking around my yard and up and down my street for about a month, now, and I’m up to 3,000 steps a day — a far cry from the workout fiend I was, back then.

Against everything any diet guru would tell you, I’m getting similar loss results. Yes, it took a lot longer, but my health conditions are a bit more complicated than they were more than a decade ago. I’ve focused on correcting what’s imbalanced with my body instead of beating myself up. I also no longer live in fear of temptation or falling off the wagon on a grand scale, because my methods are habit now, and when I actually crave something, I address it. I’ll wait for a day when I plan on higher carbs and calories, have my treat, and move on.

My body has had more time to accept and settle into each decrease in weight. I’ve come to believe that our bodies naturally fight against loss as a threat to our systems, so the natural response to fast loss is fast gain. While my loss seems to crawl on at a snail’s pace, my body seems to more easily adjust to these gradual changes. My brain, too.

I say it’s a strange mental place to be because on occasion, I feel like I’m still sitting at 371 pounds; not because I feel bad or ponderous, but because I feel like I haven’t put a superhuman amount of effort into accomplishing this feat. It no longer feels like work; it just feels like life. Everything in my brain tells me I should still be at that starting weight, because I haven’t flogged myself, I haven’t punished myself, I haven’t obsessed to the point of excluding large chunks of my life in the name of micromanaging my health.

Being this far into my loss doesn’t seem real at moments like this, because it’s been so much easier than it ever has, before. Perhaps that’s a big sign that I’m finally doing things right, and these changes are permanent. I honestly wish I’d found this ability, before — this me that I am, right now. Yes, what I’ve done has still been hard work, in the same way that careers are hard work, but when the rewards are great, the perspective is different.

I know there’s a lot of people out there who would love to be in my spot — there was a point when I would have said, ‘me, too!’ I truly appreciate that I’m standing here today with this good fortune, and I wish the same for anyone who hopes to achieve this, and more.

Surprise Yourself

Jan27

A quick weight update: I’m very close to being in new territory. Stay tuned!

Right smack between Christmas and New Year’s Day, the unexpected happened.

On the way to shop at a Walmart in the town where he works, my husband collided with a commercial van that was attempting to cross traffic in a busy location. He had no time to stop; and in that split second, a world of things changed.

Surprise Possum in downtown Fort Smith, Arkansas

While he was fortunate to walk away from the accident, he’s been dealing with some physical repercussions and working through them. Our SUV, however, was a total loss — and worse, the claims management company for the major corporation has been troublesome. Just about everything that could go wrong, did; almost a month later, we are still working on being compensated for our losses, and just managed to replace our vehicle this week.

Just when I was counting on a quiet day or two after seemingly nonstop paperwork and research, my dog developed a health problem. An expensive trip to the vet for emergency surgery and a dopey dog in recovery sucked that hope for a quiet day right down the drain.

I’m sure you’ve had your trials and tribulations over the past weeks, too. Maybe things haven’t been all that perfect.

But we have to expect the unexpected — and we have to remember one thing: when we face these changes, we will come out the other side. Perhaps changed in some way, but we will survive.

The last few weeks have been pretty stressful around here. Who expects to get in a car accident? Who expects their dog, their child, themselves to get sick? Who knows what trouble awaits right around the corner? Not many of us, but few of us escape the challenges of everyday life, whether they’re something small or something a bit more earth-shattering. While fearing them is natural, fearing them to the point of holding ourselves back hurts no one but us.

One of the more valuable lessons I’ve learned while losing weight has been a better ability to deal with the unexpected. I don’t freak out if I can’t eat the way I prefer. I have stopped punishing myself for the occasional transgression. I have ceased reacting to a small deviation by thinking screw it, eat all the things! I have had to learn infinite patience because the ways of my body are not always predictable. I have to stay the course, regardless of what’s going on in my head.

In the course of daily life, stuff happens. Days are rarely perfect; we can only attempt to make them as close as possible and hope that the cumulative effect is good. Being at peace with not only working through the occasional bump in the road but the acceptance that this process is not a race has had a calming effect. Because I know, when I look back at times like these past few weeks from the vantage point of passing time, it’ll look more like a hiccup than a Heimlich maneuver.

The good at the end of this is that my husband continues to survive, we’re back on the road to normalcy, and my favorite dog in the whole world is back to being a happy girl, again.

And me? The more I deal with the surprises life hands me, the more I surprise myself.

Walk This Way

Jan20

In the past, I’ve been one of those people that goes all in when trying something new. I’d be crazy about whatever it was for a while, and then burn out on it. One day, I’d just be done with whatever I had previously thrown so much effort into, before.

Consequently, I have a graveyard of stuff I was once enthusiastic about, and then at some point, decided against it. I have a Food Saver and some of the supplies; I swear, I was absolutely crazy about sucking all the air out of packets of whatever food I was going to throw in the freezer, just knowing that months down the road, I’d be thankful I cared about prepping that food properly… only to throw out the stuff that made its way to the bottom of the deep freezer a couple of years later.

And then, perhaps, a buss.

And the diets? Oh, dear. I remember counting Weight Watchers points with my mother as a teenager, and mixing crushed pineapple with Alba (a chocolate weight loss drink) and then freezing it as a treat. I remember some wild diet that involved eating can after can of tuna, and then dropping off of it when the friend who suggested it said it made both she and her husband sick. There have been any number of programs I’ve tried over the decades, and still, I had to start over at my absolute heaviest weight in the fall of 2013.

Did those diets fail? No, I did — I failed to stick with them, find the right thing for me, commit myself to a change in lifestyle. I failed because those things I chose weren’t sustainable in the long run. Many of the things I did were more like punishment than changes in lifestyle, as if I deserved to suffer because I had gained weight.

When it feels like punishment, that wall that stands between myself and success might as well be the Great Wall of China.

Now I’m on course for adding exercise back into my daily life — literally, one step at a time. I enjoy walking, especially outdoors. Instead of thinking of it as exercise and something I must do, I’m feeling really good about walking. It wasn’t that long ago, after all, that a simple trip to retrieve my mail from my box at the street meant grabbing my cane and wincing with every step.

I’m adding to my step goals gradually; a little more every week, but even this early on, I can tell a difference. I’ve lost enough weight that the amount of time I can be on my feet before my knee pain bothers me is longer, and that ratio will hopefully continue to improve; the more weight I lose, the more steps I can take.

Perhaps it’s perspective that keeps me happier while walking. After all, I very clearly remember how much my daily routine has been changed by dealing with chronic knee pain. I know how often I feared going anywhere that was unknown because I felt my limited ability to walk governed my activities.

Being able to walk with less pain is a gift to be treasured, appreciated, and maintained. There’s a spring in my step that hasn’t been there in a long time — and I’m looking forward to improving. There are no more drastic changes the burn bright and then fizzle out. I’ve traded them in for incremental changes that I can live with.

Step By Step

Jan13

Back in 2003, I had a passive-aggressive undersized schnauzer named Pepper. That April, I decided to take the initial steps toward weight loss and exercise; I grabbed her leash and headed outside with her. She always loved walks.

We had about an acre and a half at that particular house, and it sat on a well-traveled road. I’d head out the back porch with her, and we’d walk our way around the edge of the yard; around the storage shed, down by the pond, up past the peach trees, down the side of the driveway, across the front yard, and back to the house.

The infamous Bonnie, posing here as Captain Camp Dog, her penetrating stare off in the wild distance. (**SQUIRREL!!!!**)

At first, I could only last a couple of minutes. At the beginning of that effort, I weighed around 340 pounds or so, and I walked from the get-go. And it hurt; my hips hurt, my back hurt, my feet hurt — but I walked. Every once in a while, I’d add a minute or two. And Pepper was my constant companion, blazing the way in front of me like a fish on the line.

The two of us worked our way up to walking a few miles around the property each day, and my dog would actually try to ditch me when I’d pass the back porch. Sometimes, I’d put her inside and continue my walk, but usually, she was right there with me. We had a set trail in the grass, and a fan club that would honk and wave when they saw us.

Later that year, I joined the gym for the first time in my life. I took things slow, like I did with walking.

By the time a couple years passed and I had lost the weight I was able to lose (140 pounds), I’d gone from barely being able to walk my own yard to walking around 4 miles a day, as well as lifting heavy weights. With my husband’s help, I surpassed an incredible goal: I was able to squat my original weight — and then some. Yep, in my 40’s, never having been a weightlifter before, I squatted 385 pounds as an all-time high.

Fast-forward through all the things that happened between then and now. I regained the weight, and then some; lost some; gained it again, and now, I’m losing it like I did on that monumental journey I took over a decade ago.

Here I am, starting to walk again, this time with my cute little sweetheart of a companion, Bonnie. I’ve lost 133 pounds without exercise, but the time has come to incorporate more movement into my life, and I’ve started by setting daily step goals. I’ve grabbed that leash and headed out; the dog is a little bigger (with a better attitude) and the yard is a lot smaller, but we’re a team, and I’m adding to my goals as I go.

I don’t plan on the same course as I did, before — mostly because my angry knees will not sustain it, and my walking goals are a test to see what my body can do without putting too much impact on my joints. But I must move. Bonnie seems a bit confused at times, but what dog doesn’t like to go out for walks? I try to keep up the same enthusiasm as she does when she sees me pick up the leash and invite her to walk.

Small increments have gotten me this far, and they’ll keep carrying me forward. In the meantime, Bonnie gets a nice workout, too!

Take It To The Limit

Jan6

While my weight loss has been more like a roller coaster than a nice, clean slant on a graph, one thing has been true ever since my start date: the beginning of the new year finds me up in weight and having to get back in the groove.

I’d bet the bank I’m not alone, here.

While I’m not in the situation of just having to start a weight loss program, I do have to master it before it explodes on me. That’s what I’ve been working on, this week: getting control of my eating, being realistic about what I need to be doing over the months to come to be back in weight loss mode, making sure I’m doing the right things in order to be successful.

Patience is a virtue. Or something.

Success is rarely accidental. No, it’s more like a juggling act, and sometimes you have to juggle chainsaws to make things work out right. Other times, things are surprisingly easy — so easy that you just know you’re doing something wrong.

The one consistent truth to success is that it takes work. Sure, there are some lucky souls who can drop weight easily and quickly, but they’re the exception to the rule; the rest of us are the rule, and then some.

That’s what I struggle with during the holidays. I get in a mindset where I’d like to have a few treats, knowing full well I’ll pay for it and accepting that it’ll take some time to get the effects of those treats off my hips and out of my system. But that’s a dangerous game; if you allow yourself treats and you’re in the wrong mindset, you just might never go back to embracing the necessary discipline to master weight loss. I am determined to keep that from happening to me, as it has happened so many times in the past.

At the risk of yet another metaphor, it’s a tightrope walk, but the more experience you have, the less likely you are to fall off. That’s where I’m at; the first few days back totally on plan, my body wants to go back to the treats and my stomach fights me, but things get a little bit easier each day I’m fully back in command.

The same is true if you’re just starting your journey — the first days are absolutely the hardest, and they often come with only slim rewards. Success takes planning, determination, a willingness to change, and being absolutely truthful with yourself.

If you’re taking your first steps right now, stay strong. Forget your long term goals for now; promise yourself this day, this meal choice, this moment, and take it to the limit.

You’ll Never Walk Alone

Dec30

It’s Friday — tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. The time of year when people make lots of resolutions, including changing their lifestyles to be healthier in the new year.

I see the new year as a fresh start to lots of things; I’ve been working on a novel and I plan on moving on to the next stage of development with the new year. There are some things I’d like to do around my house. I want to attain some personal achievements in my business. And, like so many others, I want control of my health in the new year, which includes my weight.

I can’t bear the thought of this puppy, walking alone! Who wants to walk?

Yes, around the holidays, I have my treats, and I end up feeling bloated and a bit angry with myself for the deviations. We’ve also had some particular stresses just this past week, and while I don’t consider myself a stress eater, I admit that I’ve had some lusts for foods I know I shouldn’t fulfill.

What, you, too? You’re not alone, you know. If you happened here because you’re looking for encouragement in the new year but you’re feeling like the job ahead of you is insurmountable, please be reassured that it’s not. Start small, if you must. I am living proof that the small changes add up to big changes over time — and you can be, too.

Let me suggest Jack Canfield’s “Rule of Five”. Simply put, it’s the commitment to do five things a day to move you closer to your goal. In his book The Success Principles, Canfield used the illustration given him by teacher Ron Scolastico, who offered them the analogy of a lumberjack cutting down a tree.

If you would go every day to a very large tree and take five swings at it with a very sharp axe, eventually, no matter how large the tree, it would have to come down.

No task is insurmountable if you dedicate yourself to constantly do things that move you closer to your goal — even the smallest of things, starting today. In my case, I work to achieve five things every day, and then some — but those five core things I do include getting enough sleep, drinking enough water, moving more, eating within my plan, and the big one: keeping my head in the right place. When I do those things, I find myself moving down my path. Sometimes the steps are tiny ones and it seems like I’m going nowhere; sometimes they are surprising leaps.

My five things may not be your five things. My goals may not be your goals. You may not achieve everything you set out to do every single day. You may fail at times; in fact, it’s just about guaranteed you will. But if you manage to win more than you lose, chances are you’ll find yourself moving toward your goals rather than away.

But most of all, if you are just starting out and finding your courage, know you’re not alone, no matter where your starting point. Believe me — I hated myself when I started, and I didn’t believe I would be any more successful on this try than on any other previous attempt at weight management. I certainly didn’t believe I deserved it, and I was horribly embarrassed by that starting point. I didn’t want to admit my real weight and measurements to anyone, and most of all, myself.

But had I not done that, I’d have no idea now exactly how far I’ve traveled. That knowledge brings power. And I am not alone; I am not the only woman, ever, to have lost over a hundred pounds. In fact, I’m proud to know quite a few fierce woman (and men) who have come that far, and even more. We are part of a family of those who have fought hard for that right to know exactly where we stood — and stand. Because it matters, every step of the way.

This journey is not a solitary one; from the first moment of public confession, I never once walked alone — but it took that step of admission for the hands to reach back to me and join with mine. The same can happen for you, whether you’re standing on the brink of changing your life, or well along your way.

You’ll never walk alone — but you must first be willing to walk.

Do You Know Where You’re Going To?

Dec23

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you already know the stats: I’ve been at this for over three years, and my initial goal was to lose around 200 pounds. I’m roughly two-thirds of the way to that point.

Notice, though, that I don’t call that loss a goal, because it’s not. It’s just an evaluation point. Sure, there are weight charts that suggest my ideal weight, but I’m not going by those. According to even the most lenient chart, I should lose another hundred pounds. Realistically, though, I’m shooting for another sixty to seventy pounds. I’ll see then how my body feels and reacts.

What’s important to me, now, isn’t some unattainable ideal body weight, fat percentage, or size; it’s my relative health. If I reach a point that’s still above those horrid weight chart suggested numbers and I am perfectly healthy and able to do everything my body is designed to do, and I feel happy at that point, that’s where I’ll start shifting my focus to the next phase of living.

18 foot, 133 pound Burmese Python caught in Florida

This is part of the many mind shifts I’ve had to make during this process, and it’s a part that most people — especially this time of year — overlook: there is no end date to this weight loss journey. It’s a progression from one phase, where I’m actively losing weight and learning how to live with the changes, to another where I can maintain and adjust.

Thinking there’s a beginning and an end to dieting is just a set up for failure, and believe me, I’ve done that enough times to know! My hips have inflated and deflated like an accordion. Ending a diet is the beginning of putting the weight back on and just another arc in the circle.

If you want to break out of the cycle and make it stop, you have to accept that effective change means permanent change. There is no reason to pick a hard date and believe you must have a set amount of weight off in a certain amount of time — and conversely, no breaking point where you must start torturing yourself to lose weight. I’m speaking to you, New Year’s Day Dieter! Don’t set yourself up for failure by making everything black or white.

I started this long journey by faking it until I felt it. I didn’t dive into this journey all gung-ho. No, I dragged myself into it, knowing I needed to lose weight, without a single shred of faith in myself that I’d achieve it for all the times I have failed, with strangled tears when I saw my starting weight. I dreaded the progress photos. I told myself I’d treat myself right, but I surely didn’t feel it.

But small increments add up. Small efforts become big efforts. Small adjustments make big differences. On Day 1, I could not have imagined that I would still be going on Day 1206 — and 133.4 pounds less of me. When I first started, I would have hoped to have reached my final point already. Now I accept that whenever I reach my evaluation point doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know without a doubt that I will reach it.

Do I know where I’m going to? Well, no — I don’t. I’ll know I’m done losing weight when I reach a point where my body is working efficiently and I feel good and healthy. Right now, I’m just guessing where that point is. How long will it take? I have no idea, but I know I’ll get there.

Thanks for being along for the ride.

That's What Lisa Thinks.

Getting healthy all the way to the core.

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