CdnExpat

On Friday, November 15th, I competed in my first ever race. I ran the 5K relay of The Flying Start Sprint Triathlon. My finish time was 28:04. This compared to when I ran 5K for the first time in the Maldives, completing the Couch-to-5K training plan (app available through Apple & Android). Then, I rejoiced in a finishing time of 38:00.

When I started this journey to optimum health, my commitment was to exercise three times per week, get my weight into a healthy range, and find a way to change my thinking and lifetime habits so that I stayed healthy. In the end, that plan included the gastric sleeve, taking up running, and ultimately, learning to be militant and unapologetic for putting my health and self care before anyone else's needs. Something I've never been very good at doing.

This time, with my 50th birthday looming, when people asked for some of my time, I checked my workout schedule. When people wanted to meet me for business, I suggested non-food venues. If I got too busy for self care every week, I ruthlessly cut out work stuff until I did have time for myself. I've read over 100 books, been to the spa nearly every week, and managed to get my hair cut every four weeks - for the first time in my adult life.

All of which is good.

But let me tell you - it was MUCH easier to change my physical habits than my mental habits. I have spent the last 18 months fighting a mental battle that at times left me feeling weak and sick. The relentless, repetitive litany of random crap in my head, all of it negative, all of it self-critical, and all of it FALSE, made me tired. There were times that I just wanted to lie down and cover my head with a pillow. I'd wake up in the morning thinking about a scheduled run, and immediately the crap would start. An endless, inescapable demand to justify myself and really, my existence. At least it felt like it. The old caustic, hurtful tapes played over and over and over and I experienced how difficult it is to switch it off. I felt more exhausted from the mental chaos than I did from the workouts.

But I learned a few things along the way, and having just completed what feels like an incredible milestone to me, I reflected on that learning.
No matter what confused, chaotic, caustic, or nasty things were happening in my head, compelling myself to physical action always made it better, and sometimes, quieted my mind completely. It is always possible to take action even when the noise in my head is deafening. It is not my brain that I need to run, it's my legs, my arms, my breath. My head just happens to come along for the ride. In other words, giving in to the head noise as if it controls my physical existence is a huge tactical error in the war with negativity. NOT going and doing the workout or self care or planned activity made the mental chaos that much louder the next time, plus the added emotional factors of disappointment and guilt. The more attention I paid to 'fighting' the thoughts, the more fighting I had to do. I gradually learned that the less importance I placed on the thoughts I didn't want, the less they bothered me. After awhile, they weren't loud enough to interrupt my thinking, and now, sometimes, they're completely absent. It gets better. The more consistent I was in following my plan of action combined with ignoring the noise in my head, the easier it got. There's no substitute for the incredible sense of satisfaction that comes from accomplishing something difficult. When I look back at the past almost 18 years since I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, it's been a journey I couldn't have planned with a road map and detailed instructions. And what a trip it's been. From being fit to the uncertainty of ill health, to a wheel chair, to 'starting over,' to the Middle East, through obesity and back, to a triathlon.

Wow and wow. I have a huge sense of thankfulness for the things this journey has already taught me, and I anticipate there is more to learn.

Bring it on.

On Friday, November 15th, I competed in my first ever race. I ran the 5K relay of The Flying Start Sprint Triathlon. My finish time was 28:04. This compared to when I ran 5K for the first time in the Maldives, completing the Couch-to-5K training plan (app available through Apple & Android). Then, I rejoiced in a finishing time of 38:00.

When I started this journey to optimum health, my commitment was to exercise three times per week, get my weight into a healthy range, and find a way to change my thinking and lifetime habits so that I stayed healthy. In the end, that plan included the gastric sleeve, taking up running, and ultimately, learning to be militant and unapologetic for putting my health and self care before anyone else's needs. Something I've never been very good at doing.

This time, with my 50th birthday looming, when people asked for some of my time, I checked my workout schedule. When people wanted to meet me for business, I suggested non-food venues. If I got too busy for self care every week, I ruthlessly cut out work stuff until I did have time for myself. I've read over 100 books, been to the spa nearly every week, and managed to get my hair cut every four weeks - for the first time in my adult life.

All of which is good.

But let me tell you - it was MUCH easier to change my physical habits than my mental habits. I have spent the last 18 months fighting a mental battle that at times left me feeling weak and sick. The relentless, repetitive litany of random crap in my head, all of it negative, all of it self-critical, and all of it FALSE, made me tired. There were times that I just wanted to lie down and cover my head with a pillow. I'd wake up in the morning thinking about a scheduled run, and immediately the crap would start. An endless, inescapable demand to justify myself and really, my existence. At least it felt like it. The old caustic, hurtful tapes played over and over and over and I experienced how difficult it is to switch it off. I felt more exhausted from the mental chaos than I did from the workouts.

But I learned a few things along the way, and having just completed what feels like an incredible milestone to me, I reflected on that learning.
No matter what confused, chaotic, caustic, or nasty things were happening in my head, compelling myself to physical action always made it better, and sometimes, quieted my mind completely. It is always possible to take action even when the noise in my head is deafening. It is not my brain that I need to run, it's my legs, my arms, my breath. My head just happens to come along for the ride. In other words, giving in to the head noise as if it controls my physical existence is a huge tactical error in the war with negativity. NOT going and doing the workout or self care or planned activity made the mental chaos that much louder the next time, plus the added emotional factors of disappointment and guilt. The more attention I paid to 'fighting' the thoughts, the more fighting I had to do. I gradually learned that the less importance I placed on the thoughts I didn't want, the less they bothered me. After awhile, they weren't loud enough to interrupt my thinking, and now, sometimes, they're completely absent. It gets better. The more consistent I was in following my plan of action combined with ignoring the noise in my head, the easier it got. There's no substitute for the incredible sense of satisfaction that comes from accomplishing something difficult. When I look back at the past almost 18 years since I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, it's been a journey I couldn't have planned with a road map and detailed instructions. And what a trip it's been. From being fit to the uncertainty of ill health, to a wheel chair, to 'starting over,' to the Middle East, through obesity and back, to a triathlon.

Wow and wow. I have a huge sense of thankfulness for the things this journey has already taught me, and I anticipate there is more to learn.

Bring it on.

On Friday, November 15th, I competed in my first ever race. I ran the 5K relay of The Flying Start Sprint Triathlon. My finish time was 28:04. This compared to when I ran 5K for the first time in the Maldives, completing the Couch-to-5K training plan (app available through Apple & Android). Then, I rejoiced in a finishing time of 38:00.

When I started this journey to optimum health, my commitment was to exercise three times per week, get my weight into a healthy range, and find a way to change my thinking and lifetime habits so that I stayed healthy. In the end, that plan included the gastric sleeve, taking up running, and ultimately, learning to be militant and unapologetic for putting my health and self care before anyone else's needs. Something I've never been very good at doing.

This time, with my 50th birthday looming, when people asked for some of my time, I checked my workout schedule. When people wanted to meet me for business, I suggested non-food venues. If I got too busy for self care every week, I ruthlessly cut out work stuff until I did have time for myself. I've read over 100 books, been to the spa nearly every week, and managed to get my hair cut every four weeks - for the first time in my adult life.

All of which is good.

But let me tell you - it was MUCH easier to change my physical habits than my mental habits. I have spent the last 18 months fighting a mental battle that at times left me feeling weak and sick. The relentless, repetitive litany of random crap in my head, all of it negative, all of it self-critical, and all of it FALSE, made me tired. There were times that I just wanted to lie down and cover my head with a pillow. I'd wake up in the morning thinking about a scheduled run, and immediately the crap would start. An endless, inescapable demand to justify myself and really, my existence. At least it felt like it. The old caustic, hurtful tapes played over and over and over and I experienced how difficult it is to switch it off. I felt more exhausted from the mental chaos than I did from the workouts.

But I learned a few things along the way, and having just completed what feels like an incredible milestone to me, I reflected on that learning.
No matter what confused, chaotic, caustic, or nasty things were happening in my head, compelling myself to physical action always made it better, and sometimes, quieted my mind completely. It is always possible to take action even when the noise in my head is deafening. It is not my brain that I need to run, it's my legs, my arms, my breath. My head just happens to come along for the ride. In other words, giving in to the head noise as if it controls my physical existence is a huge tactical error in the war with negativity. NOT going and doing the workout or self care or planned activity made the mental chaos that much louder the next time, plus the added emotional factors of disappointment and guilt. The more attention I paid to 'fighting' the thoughts, the more fighting I had to do. I gradually learned that the less importance I placed on the thoughts I didn't want, the less they bothered me. After awhile, they weren't loud enough to interrupt my thinking, and now, sometimes, they're completely absent. It gets better. The more consistent I was in following my plan of action combined with ignoring the noise in my head, the easier it got. There's no substitute for the incredible sense of satisfaction that comes from accomplishing something difficult. When I look back at the past almost 18 years since I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, it's been a journey I couldn't have planned with a road map and detailed instructions. And what a trip it's been. From being fit to the uncertainty of ill health, to a wheel chair, to 'starting over,' to the Middle East, through obesity and back, to a triathlon.

Wow and wow. I have a huge sense of thankfulness for the things this journey has already taught me, and I anticipate there is more to learn.

Bring it on.

Well - this is my first posting and first blog so here goes!
 
I feel lately I have had a lot of firsts....first major surgery, first time putting myself first, first time owning my health, etc
 
I have to say that it definitely is hard to choose yourself first. Anyone with children, a spouse, family, etc knows what I mean. You feel as if you are cheating them out of being there. It has taken me many years to come to understand that what I thought as putting them first was actually an excuse for me to continue to be unhealthy. How was I putting them first if I wasn't taking the best care of myself? This is a VERY hard lesson to learn. As I look around at my family members and family history of chronic weight related issues I put my foot down. There was a voice deep down saying "me, me...did you forget that I am here?" This time I chose to listen.
 
I have not always been overweight...alright "morbidly obese". This is something that has been rolling along pretty much for the past 15 years. You know the story....get married (get comfortable), have children (more comfortable with a few pounds) and before you know it you are a shell of the person you once were. Years go by and you lose a little and gain more and back and forth. Many of us have the same story. My weight loss surgery journey originally began two and a half years ago, Dec 2009 with a seminar for the lap band. I went and listened and then said I will give it another try of doing it myself and bailed on following through. Two years later I found myself at the seminar again with a firm grip on my nerves and actually listened with more conviction about choosing me first.
 
After going through the 3 months of NUT, psych appointment, surgeon visits and pre-op testing...I took a leap of faith with myself and God .
I had clear liquids 24 hrs before surgery and was officially sleeved on 7/17 at 10am.
 
I am currently 10 days post-op and completely intrenched in the full liquid diet. What can you say about liquids? Not a whole lot . Anyway, I am just passing time until Tues when I get to start the greatly anticipated puree stage. Never thought I would be so excited about eating food the consistency of baby food. But here I am and readily counting the hours.
 
This past 2 weeks has given me time to do a lot of thinking!! Sometimes I wonder if the liquid stage is just as much for learning to listen to your body and conquering some of your food obsession as it is about letting your body heal.
 
I have found that everyday that voice is getting a little stronger and I can't wait to begin to have NSVs and see the weight come off. I will take each day of passing time to consider the gift I have been given of my life, living longer, spending more time with family and friends. I am 38 years old and have a lifetime ahead of me and plan to make it the best I can!!

When Alex suggested members take a three day challenge by tracking every little thing they eat or drink, I thought, "Sure. Why not?"
 
I figured that I'd just be writing down what I was tracking in my head, so no big deal, and I could not only say I read the <i>whole</i> newsletter, but I actually took action. So I attached a sharpened pencil to my daytimer and commenced to keep track of everything I put in my mouth.
 
 
As I looked over my lists last night, I admit I was very close to tears. I would say that the past three days have been pretty typical for me - nothing really out of the ordinary that I could say messed up or changed my regular habits. So no excuse there.
 
I cringe to write this. Over three days, I drank a <i>total</i> of 102 ounces of liquid, consumed +/- 950 calories, and had ZERO protein. I hope y'all were sitting down for this. I swooned myself. How could I, by any stretch of the imagination, call this healthy eating? Ick.
 
Alex's challenge (and the outcome) brought to mind an experience I had working with a nutritionist for the benefit of a mutual client. One day while we were discussing ways in which to re-connect this starving girl to reality, the nutritionist said, "I've found that anyone who has problems with food has an almost infinite capacity for self-deception."
 
Ouch.
 
I'm certainly confronted with my capacity for self-deception. How did I ever morph the reality of that list into something different in my head? I was pretty confident I was keeping track... accurately. Of course, I filed away the decision to "...have more protein tomorrow" in the back my mind. Under a pile of other **** and covered with a mental wet-wool-blanket. Seeing in writing that I'd done that for three days in a row kind of puts my stated commitment to "get healthy" in jeopardy. And, as I am wont to tell my clients, "When the words and the actions don't match, you always go with the actions. They tell the truth."
 
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
 
So, this morning, HWHN and I had a long discussion about what it really means to change our lifestyle. As it happens, he's just had his first complete physical in five years (I see all the women roll their eyes and the men shrug) and it turns out he's great except he's pushing the envelope for cholesterol. Ah. This requires a lifestyle change for him too. No more chocolate (he's the chocoholic) and no more cheeseburgers stuffed with deep-fried onion rings. (Fortunately, HWHN is not overweight, but apparently his arteries are protesting.)
 
The 'lifestyle change' discussion precipitated a general discussion about our life, and we've decided to make some other changes as well. We've done this before, he and I - we know we can do it again. Changing our lives the first time meant I beat off the MS and got out of a wheelchair, and "flipping over the Monopoly board" again brought us out of the cold of the Great White Up to SandyTown and changed the course of HWHN's genetically-inherited arthritis. We can do this again.
 
So an "epic fail" has caused us to take stock of what we're actually doing. Not just what we <i>think</i> we're doing. No. Really doing. And we're not doing so hot on the whole self-care thing. But, that's about to change. It's already begun. HWHN wants to avoid having to take Lipitor with all its attendant side-effects, and I'd like to get out of starvation mode, continue losing weight and keep at least a little bit of hair.
 
Here's to Alex - thanks for the newsletter, the challenge, and the opportunity to really confront the self-deception that "...doth so easily beset us all."

When Alex suggested members take a three day challenge by tracking every little thing they eat or drink, I thought, "Sure. Why not?"
 
I figured that I'd just be writing down what I was tracking in my head, so no big deal, and I could not only say I read the <i>whole</i> newsletter, but I actually took action. So I attached a sharpened pencil to my daytimer and commenced to keep track of everything I put in my mouth.
 
 
As I looked over my lists last night, I admit I was very close to tears. I would say that the past three days have been pretty typical for me - nothing really out of the ordinary that I could say messed up or changed my regular habits. So no excuse there.
 
I cringe to write this. Over three days, I drank a <i>total</i> of 102 ounces of liquid, consumed +/- 950 calories, and had ZERO protein. I hope y'all were sitting down for this. I swooned myself. How could I, by any stretch of the imagination, call this healthy eating? Ick.
 
Alex's challenge (and the outcome) brought to mind an experience I had working with a nutritionist for the benefit of a mutual client. One day while we were discussing ways in which to re-connect this starving girl to reality, the nutritionist said, "I've found that anyone who has problems with food has an almost infinite capacity for self-deception."
 
Ouch.
 
I'm certainly confronted with my capacity for self-deception. How did I ever morph the reality of that list into something different in my head? I was pretty confident I was keeping track... accurately. Of course, I filed away the decision to "...have more protein tomorrow" in the back my mind. Under a pile of other **** and covered with a mental wet-wool-blanket. Seeing in writing that I'd done that for three days in a row kind of puts my stated commitment to "get healthy" in jeopardy. And, as I am wont to tell my clients, "When the words and the actions don't match, you always go with the actions. They tell the truth."
 
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
 
So, this morning, HWHN and I had a long discussion about what it really means to change our lifestyle. As it happens, he's just had his first complete physical in five years (I see all the women roll their eyes and the men shrug) and it turns out he's great except he's pushing the envelope for cholesterol. Ah. This requires a lifestyle change for him too. No more chocolate (he's the chocoholic) and no more cheeseburgers stuffed with deep-fried onion rings. (Fortunately, HWHN is not overweight, but apparently his arteries are protesting.)
 
The 'lifestyle change' discussion precipitated a general discussion about our life, and we've decided to make some other changes as well. We've done this before, he and I - we know we can do it again. Changing our lives the first time meant I beat off the MS and got out of a wheelchair, and "flipping over the Monopoly board" again brought us out of the cold of the Great White Up to SandyTown and changed the course of HWHN's genetically-inherited arthritis. We can do this again.
 
So an "epic fail" has caused us to take stock of what we're actually doing. Not just what we <i>think</i> we're doing. No. Really doing. And we're not doing so hot on the whole self-care thing. But, that's about to change. It's already begun. HWHN wants to avoid having to take Lipitor with all its attendant side-effects, and I'd like to get out of starvation mode, continue losing weight and keep at least a little bit of hair.
 
Here's to Alex - thanks for the newsletter, the challenge, and the opportunity to really confront the self-deception that "...doth so easily beset us all."

When Alex suggested members take a three day challenge by tracking every little thing they eat or drink, I thought, "Sure. Why not?"
 
I figured that I'd just be writing down what I was tracking in my head, so no big deal, and I could not only say I read the <i>whole</i> newsletter, but I actually took action. So I attached a sharpened pencil to my daytimer and commenced to keep track of everything I put in my mouth.
 
 
As I looked over my lists last night, I admit I was very close to tears. I would say that the past three days have been pretty typical for me - nothing really out of the ordinary that I could say messed up or changed my regular habits. So no excuse there.
 
I cringe to write this. Over three days, I drank a <i>total</i> of 102 ounces of liquid, consumed +/- 950 calories, and had ZERO protein. I hope y'all were sitting down for this. I swooned myself. How could I, by any stretch of the imagination, call this healthy eating? Ick.
 
Alex's challenge (and the outcome) brought to mind an experience I had working with a nutritionist for the benefit of a mutual client. One day while we were discussing ways in which to re-connect this starving girl to reality, the nutritionist said, "I've found that anyone who has problems with food has an almost infinite capacity for self-deception."
 
Ouch.
 
I'm certainly confronted with my capacity for self-deception. How did I ever morph the reality of that list into something different in my head? I was pretty confident I was keeping track... accurately. Of course, I filed away the decision to "...have more protein tomorrow" in the back my mind. Under a pile of other **** and covered with a mental wet-wool-blanket. Seeing in writing that I'd done that for three days in a row kind of puts my stated commitment to "get healthy" in jeopardy. And, as I am wont to tell my clients, "When the words and the actions don't match, you always go with the actions. They tell the truth."
 
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
 
So, this morning, HWHN and I had a long discussion about what it really means to change our lifestyle. As it happens, he's just had his first complete physical in five years (I see all the women roll their eyes and the men shrug) and it turns out he's great except he's pushing the envelope for cholesterol. Ah. This requires a lifestyle change for him too. No more chocolate (he's the chocoholic) and no more cheeseburgers stuffed with deep-fried onion rings. (Fortunately, HWHN is not overweight, but apparently his arteries are protesting.)
 
The 'lifestyle change' discussion precipitated a general discussion about our life, and we've decided to make some other changes as well. We've done this before, he and I - we know we can do it again. Changing our lives the first time meant I beat off the MS and got out of a wheelchair, and "flipping over the Monopoly board" again brought us out of the cold of the Great White Up to SandyTown and changed the course of HWHN's genetically-inherited arthritis. We can do this again.
 
So an "epic fail" has caused us to take stock of what we're actually doing. Not just what we <i>think</i> we're doing. No. Really doing. And we're not doing so hot on the whole self-care thing. But, that's about to change. It's already begun. HWHN wants to avoid having to take Lipitor with all its attendant side-effects, and I'd like to get out of starvation mode, continue losing weight and keep at least a little bit of hair.
 
Here's to Alex - thanks for the newsletter, the challenge, and the opportunity to really confront the self-deception that "...doth so easily beset us all."

When Alex suggested members take a three day challenge by tracking every little thing they eat or drink, I thought, "Sure. Why not?"
 
I figured that I'd just be writing down what I was tracking in my head, so no big deal, and I could not only say I read the <i>whole</i> newsletter, but I actually took action. So I attached a sharpened pencil to my daytimer and commenced to keep track of everything I put in my mouth.
 
 
As I looked over my lists last night, I admit I was very close to tears. I would say that the past three days have been pretty typical for me - nothing really out of the ordinary that I could say messed up or changed my regular habits. So no excuse there.
 
I cringe to write this. Over three days, I drank a <i>total</i> of 102 ounces of liquid, consumed +/- 950 calories, and had ZERO protein. I hope y'all were sitting down for this. I swooned myself. How could I, by any stretch of the imagination, call this healthy eating? Ick.
 
Alex's challenge (and the outcome) brought to mind an experience I had working with a nutritionist for the benefit of a mutual client. One day while we were discussing ways in which to re-connect this starving girl to reality, the nutritionist said, "I've found that anyone who has problems with food has an almost infinite capacity for self-deception."
 
Ouch.
 
I'm certainly confronted with my capacity for self-deception. How did I ever morph the reality of that list into something different in my head? I was pretty confident I was keeping track... accurately. Of course, I filed away the decision to "...have more protein tomorrow" in the back my mind. Under a pile of other **** and covered with a mental wet-wool-blanket. Seeing in writing that I'd done that for three days in a row kind of puts my stated commitment to "get healthy" in jeopardy. And, as I am wont to tell my clients, "When the words and the actions don't match, you always go with the actions. They tell the truth."
 
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
 
So, this morning, HWHN and I had a long discussion about what it really means to change our lifestyle. As it happens, he's just had his first complete physical in five years (I see all the women roll their eyes and the men shrug) and it turns out he's great except he's pushing the envelope for cholesterol. Ah. This requires a lifestyle change for him too. No more chocolate (he's the chocoholic) and no more cheeseburgers stuffed with deep-fried onion rings. (Fortunately, HWHN is not overweight, but apparently his arteries are protesting.)
 
The 'lifestyle change' discussion precipitated a general discussion about our life, and we've decided to make some other changes as well. We've done this before, he and I - we know we can do it again. Changing our lives the first time meant I beat off the MS and got out of a wheelchair, and "flipping over the Monopoly board" again brought us out of the cold of the Great White Up to SandyTown and changed the course of HWHN's genetically-inherited arthritis. We can do this again.
 
So an "epic fail" has caused us to take stock of what we're actually doing. Not just what we <i>think</i> we're doing. No. Really doing. And we're not doing so hot on the whole self-care thing. But, that's about to change. It's already begun. HWHN wants to avoid having to take Lipitor with all its attendant side-effects, and I'd like to get out of starvation mode, continue losing weight and keep at least a little bit of hair.
 
Here's to Alex - thanks for the newsletter, the challenge, and the opportunity to really confront the self-deception that "...doth so easily beset us all."

When Alex suggested members take a three day challenge by tracking every little thing they eat or drink, I thought, "Sure. Why not?"
 
I figured that I'd just be writing down what I was tracking in my head, so no big deal, and I could not only say I read the <i>whole</i> newsletter, but I actually took action. So I attached a sharpened pencil to my daytimer and commenced to keep track of everything I put in my mouth.
 
 
As I looked over my lists last night, I admit I was very close to tears. I would say that the past three days have been pretty typical for me - nothing really out of the ordinary that I could say messed up or changed my regular habits. So no excuse there.
 
I cringe to write this. Over three days, I drank a <i>total</i> of 102 ounces of liquid, consumed +/- 950 calories, and had ZERO protein. I hope y'all were sitting down for this. I swooned myself. How could I, by any stretch of the imagination, call this healthy eating? Ick.
 
Alex's challenge (and the outcome) brought to mind an experience I had working with a nutritionist for the benefit of a mutual client. One day while we were discussing ways in which to re-connect this starving girl to reality, the nutritionist said, "I've found that anyone who has problems with food has an almost infinite capacity for self-deception."
 
Ouch.
 
I'm certainly confronted with my capacity for self-deception. How did I ever morph the reality of that list into something different in my head? I was pretty confident I was keeping track... accurately. Of course, I filed away the decision to "...have more protein tomorrow" in the back my mind. Under a pile of other **** and covered with a mental wet-wool-blanket. Seeing in writing that I'd done that for three days in a row kind of puts my stated commitment to "get healthy" in jeopardy. And, as I am wont to tell my clients, "When the words and the actions don't match, you always go with the actions. They tell the truth."
 
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
 
So, this morning, HWHN and I had a long discussion about what it really means to change our lifestyle. As it happens, he's just had his first complete physical in five years (I see all the women roll their eyes and the men shrug) and it turns out he's great except he's pushing the envelope for cholesterol. Ah. This requires a lifestyle change for him too. No more chocolate (he's the chocoholic) and no more cheeseburgers stuffed with deep-fried onion rings. (Fortunately, HWHN is not overweight, but apparently his arteries are protesting.)
 
The 'lifestyle change' discussion precipitated a general discussion about our life, and we've decided to make some other changes as well. We've done this before, he and I - we know we can do it again. Changing our lives the first time meant I beat off the MS and got out of a wheelchair, and "flipping over the Monopoly board" again brought us out of the cold of the Great White Up to SandyTown and changed the course of HWHN's genetically-inherited arthritis. We can do this again.
 
So an "epic fail" has caused us to take stock of what we're actually doing. Not just what we <i>think</i> we're doing. No. Really doing. And we're not doing so hot on the whole self-care thing. But, that's about to change. It's already begun. HWHN wants to avoid having to take Lipitor with all its attendant side-effects, and I'd like to get out of starvation mode, continue losing weight and keep at least a little bit of hair.
 
Here's to Alex - thanks for the newsletter, the challenge, and the opportunity to really confront the self-deception that "...doth so easily beset us all."

When Alex suggested members take a three day challenge by tracking every little thing they eat or drink, I thought, "Sure. Why not?"
 
I figured that I'd just be writing down what I was tracking in my head, so no big deal, and I could not only say I read the <i>whole</i> newsletter, but I actually took action. So I attached a sharpened pencil to my daytimer and commenced to keep track of everything I put in my mouth.
 
 
As I looked over my lists last night, I admit I was very close to tears. I would say that the past three days have been pretty typical for me - nothing really out of the ordinary that I could say messed up or changed my regular habits. So no excuse there.
 
I cringe to write this. Over three days, I drank a <i>total</i> of 102 ounces of liquid, consumed +/- 950 calories, and had ZERO protein. I hope y'all were sitting down for this. I swooned myself. How could I, by any stretch of the imagination, call this healthy eating? Ick.
 
Alex's challenge (and the outcome) brought to mind an experience I had working with a nutritionist for the benefit of a mutual client. One day while we were discussing ways in which to re-connect this starving girl to reality, the nutritionist said, "I've found that anyone who has problems with food has an almost infinite capacity for self-deception."
 
Ouch.
 
I'm certainly confronted with my capacity for self-deception. How did I ever morph the reality of that list into something different in my head? I was pretty confident I was keeping track... accurately. Of course, I filed away the decision to "...have more protein tomorrow" in the back my mind. Under a pile of other **** and covered with a mental wet-wool-blanket. Seeing in writing that I'd done that for three days in a row kind of puts my stated commitment to "get healthy" in jeopardy. And, as I am wont to tell my clients, "When the words and the actions don't match, you always go with the actions. They tell the truth."
 
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
 
So, this morning, HWHN and I had a long discussion about what it really means to change our lifestyle. As it happens, he's just had his first complete physical in five years (I see all the women roll their eyes and the men shrug) and it turns out he's great except he's pushing the envelope for cholesterol. Ah. This requires a lifestyle change for him too. No more chocolate (he's the chocoholic) and no more cheeseburgers stuffed with deep-fried onion rings. (Fortunately, HWHN is not overweight, but apparently his arteries are protesting.)
 
The 'lifestyle change' discussion precipitated a general discussion about our life, and we've decided to make some other changes as well. We've done this before, he and I - we know we can do it again. Changing our lives the first time meant I beat off the MS and got out of a wheelchair, and "flipping over the Monopoly board" again brought us out of the cold of the Great White Up to SandyTown and changed the course of HWHN's genetically-inherited arthritis. We can do this again.
 
So an "epic fail" has caused us to take stock of what we're actually doing. Not just what we <i>think</i> we're doing. No. Really doing. And we're not doing so hot on the whole self-care thing. But, that's about to change. It's already begun. HWHN wants to avoid having to take Lipitor with all its attendant side-effects, and I'd like to get out of starvation mode, continue losing weight and keep at least a little bit of hair.
 
Here's to Alex - thanks for the newsletter, the challenge, and the opportunity to really confront the self-deception that "...doth so easily beset us all."

I am a closet fan of wigs. Hats, too. Those groovy little Fascinators that all the hoity-toity chic people are wearing are gorgeous and I aim to have one. Of course, I don't want to have just any old Fascinator. I want to buy it in London, myself, so I'll just have to wait until I go there. Hopefully in the fall.
 
In the meantime, my hair is falling out. I was hoping this wouldn't happen, but clearly "hoping" and "reality" are not necessarily acquainted. Damn. (I'm experimenting with swears. On my last post, a tiny little swear was neatly replaced with stars. Checking to see if it happens again ) I have no magic wand, or as Lily Tomlin says in The Kid, "I left my magic bra and panties at home." (If you've never seen The Kid, you might want to rectify that oversight forthwith). So. No Fairy Godmother, no magic wand, no superpowers, and no reprieve. What to do?
 
Growing up on a farm in Northern Canada, I and my siblings were always pretending to be someone we thought far more glamorous or exciting than we happened to be. Since we didn't' have a TV, all of our pretensions to greatness came out of the books my mother read to us. Thus any given play day could include incarnations of Long John Silver, Anne of Green Gables, or Alec from The Black Stallion. My smallest brother generally ran around after the rest of us furiously demanding that we "wait up," and quite unable to manage staying in character with such short legs. This was not the best part. That was always the dress up box. One could not be Athos, Aramis, or Porthos in chore clothes. Most certainly not. And only D'Artagnan could wear the straw hat skewered with a chicken feather that magically transformed whoever grabbed it into the greatest of all the Musketeers.
 
In this box were three wigs. I'm not quite sure of the provenance of these treasures, but I never saw any fleas or nits, so I'm assuming they were donated by good families - probably my mother's long-suffering friends who did not live in the rural wilds and so had no clue as to why she (my mother) could be so very strange, wanting their cast off hair pieces. The wigs were perfect. Suddenly, any one of us could be someone completely different without straining the collective imaginations of our siblings. My rather handsome brother gave a speech once (he stole it from Sir Winston Churchill) wearing his idea of an English gentleman's proper attire and a scruffy brown wig. He was so good (and funny) that we didn't have the heart to tell him that Sir Winston was bulldog ugly and bald. (This all occurred after mom read us a book about WWII which included the British Prime Minister. When years later, my brother finally saw a picture of Sir Winston, he laughed so hard he couldn't tell us why he was laughing.)
 
Back to the wigs. I've always had long hair. Sometimes really long hair, so the wigs would never fit quite right. My cruel and ruthless siblings would inform me that all that hair, piled up under the wig caused me to look deformed in ways which "...make you look retarded." Whereupon one or another of them would demand that I give the wig up and choose some other way of getting myself into character for the forthcoming play. I usually did this without a fight because I did not like the idea of having a lumpy head - no matter what the reason. Those three wigs eventually disintegrated, and by then, we were all way past the stage of dressing up to amuse ourselves on a Saturday morning.
 
I find myself contemplating the wigs in the windows in the 'Hairdressers' Souq' as HWHN* calls it. These are all little stores in the same area which sell all the same things. Everything one could possibly need for a hairdressing salon. In Canada, you'd have to have a trade license to buy most of this stuff, but not here. These wigs are typical of this region. Flamboyant, long, and thick. Currently, my own hair is very short, mostly gray, and getting thinner by the day. I expect that shortly, I may be drooling outside the windows as I gaze at those wigs. But... I am remembering how I always had to give up the wigs from the dress up box, and I have decided that if it comes to that, I am going to have the blonde wig, the brown highlighted wig, and the black wig. I have no hair to make my head lumpy, and I think even all these years later, if I put on a wig, I'm going to be somebody else for awhile.
 
Given my weight loss, and the latest book that I read, I think I might become Amanda from The Bone Collector. Of course, to be truly authentic, the wig will have to be red and curly ...but I could live with that.
 
Here's to great moms, awesome siblings, good books, and endless imagination. Maybe losing my hair won't be so bad.
 
CE
 
*HWHN = He Who Hates to be Named; my wonderful, introvert husband.

I was skipping around reading different posts on Facebook, and found an article by Dr. Laura Berman (you know, the sex therapist on Oprah), and she's talking about her challenge of fighting breast cancer and what it's like going bald during the chemo treatments. While reading that article, she said something that struck me SO deep, that I wanted to share in hopes that it hits someone else too. You see, I'm scared to death of who the "new me" will be. Will I still have my self-deprecating humor? Will I still enjoy what I do today when I'm thinner? Will people still like and love a thinner me even though I've been overweight all my life and this is how people identify me? I'm going to have to learn that my overweight self today isn't want defines me. That being a thinner me and having health and happiness is OK! Here is the quote:
 
"It is amazingly empowering to let go of something you think defines you, only to discover you are a truer version of yourself without it. It’s like letting go of an anchor that’s holding you down." ~Dr. Laura Berman
 
I'm ready to meet that truer me!!

Starting Day 6 of liquid diet. It's not easy; but I've been fairly active and not cheating, so that 800 calorie limit is making the weight fall off. I've lost almost 10 pounds since Monday! Seeing those results makes it a little easier. I can remember losing a few pound in past and then justifying something I shouldn't eat and undoing most of my hard work. I pray I never again adopt that mindset.