Tuesday, September 28, 2010


Milestone achieved. 75 pounds gone. See you soon, 100-pound disc.

Friday, September 24, 2010


I call it the “do you know who I am?” syndrome. There are just some days when my ego gets in the way.

It’s usually when I’m in a food or scale situation. Let me give some examples.

A few months ago, I had an appointment with a Children’s trainer who I hadn’t yet met. It was an assessment to get measurements and to take the step test—a requirement for the Strong4Life portion of Weight Watchers.

As Cami was doing my measurements, I felt the words bubbling in my throat. Then I blurted them out:

“So, I’m not sure if you’ve seen it, but I actually write a blog that’s posted on Careforce about my weight loss.”

Immediately I chastised myself. Oy, I sound like an idiot. But I have this need to tell people where I’ve been and where I’m heading. I did it this week when I visited a new doctor. I immediately told the nurse, as she was weighing me, that I had recently lost 70 pounds.

I did it at the wellness fair last month, too. When I was discussing my results with the technician, I made sure she knew how much weight I lost.

To me, it’s like when you have a ginormous zit on your chin. When that happens to me, I like to point it out before other people have the chance to say anything. I did the same thing with my weight for years. I’ll make the fat girl jokes, thank you very much, not you.

Now it’s a little different. I guess I want to make sure I let people know that yes, I’m still overweight, but I’m working on it. And this is how far I’ve come. That way I avoid the “you really need to lose weight” discussion. Duh. I know.

But last week, I took it to a whole new level. Lately, I’ve been swinging by Taco Bell for quick dinners. It happens mostly after Zumba. Something about those Latin rhythms inspires taco cravings, I guess.

Taco Bell, as embarrassing as it is to admit, was always one of my major binges. But now I love that I can swing through the drive-through and pick up a fresco taco (without cheese or sour cream) to satisfy my craving in a healthy way.

The last time I went through the drive-through at the Taco Bell near my house, the employee who was serving me actually remembered me. I was mortified. It makes sense, though. I always have the same order. I always pull up in my workout clothes, my hair back and face flushed from exertion.

“Hey! Fresco girl!” he said to me.

“Oh my gosh. You recognize me. That’s awful,” I replied. “At least I’m getting healthy stuff. I’m down 70 pounds.”

Dude. I had to justify myself to the Taco Bell drive-through guy. How sad is that? I might have my food relatively well-handled but we’re going to have to have a talk about my ego. It’s clearly raging out of control.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

A big little deal

I have become frenemies with .2.

Last week I lost .2. This week, I gained it back.

I can’t help but be disappointed. I’m very close to my next milestone of 75 pounds, but I can’t seem to get to it.

I know .2 isn’t that big of a deal. I tried, with no luck, to research a common item that weighs .2 pounds. But when I’m so close to that next goal? It hurts a little.

I think I’ve been a little off my game lately, food-wise. I have been super busy (and a little lazy) and haven’t been to the grocery store so I’ve been eating out a lot. And even though I’ve been making good choices when I go out to eat, it’s still not as controlled as I could be from home.

Hopefully that milestone is just around the corner. Fingers crossed. I know what I need to do.

Oh, and I’ve decided a longer-term goal for me is to lose 100 pounds by my first Weight Watcher anniversary, which is Jan. 26, 2011. Think I can do it?

Friday, September 17, 2010

Not running on empty

First of all, I want to thank everyone who responded to Wednesday’s entry. I’ve been writing this blog since January, and that is the only entry I somewhat regretted posting. But as usual, you guys responded and made me feel so much better. I greatly appreciated the trashcan-eating solidarity. Thanks again.

So, two years ago, I did the KP 5k run/walk for the first time. I wore a regular Children’s T-shirt because even the biggest size of the special race-day shirt was too tight. I remember walking and thinking I might die. It was so hard for me.

Golf carts would pass me, full of people who couldn’t finish the race. And sadly, most of those people were my size. I was determined not to be one of them. I crossed the finish line, but could barely move for days.

Last night I did my second KP. I was decked out with nearly 1,000 of my fellow employees in our (really, really bright) green shirts. I was nervous. I thought back to how hard it had been the first time, and, despite my weight loss, I was afraid that it wouldn’t be any easier this time.

I was wrong. Though I still walked it (definitely not ready for running, yet), I kept a pretty good pace. I kept waiting for the moment that I’d feel like I couldn’t finish. But it never came. Sure, it was still tough, but I discovered it was much easier with 70 fewer pounds.

I’m grateful to my walking buddies—my Zumba girls who I started the race with, and Ashley Benson and Roseann Jorda, who crossed the finish line with me—in about 45 minutes. Not too shabby.

Congratulations to all my fellow walkers and runners. I’m proud to say that my Editorial team had 100 percent participation, and the rest of the Marketing and Communications Department was well-represented, too. My co-workers are rock stars.

A few pictures from last night:

Pre-race posing with my boss, Paul Parson. He ended up with the fastest time among the guys in our department. Woo!

Stong Enough at the start line.
Holy cow, that's a lot of people! But notice all the speckles of neon green. No wonder Children's won the participation award. Go us!
Celebrating at the finish line with my new friends and walking buddies, Ashley and Roseann. Those two made me hustle. Thanks, ladies!

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Going to extremes

Every time the old me rears her head or stomps her foot in defiance, I know I have to tell you all. And I hate it. So I’m stomping my foot some more. But alas, here I am, head hung sheepishly in hands, to tell you all about my latest transgression.

This past weekend some of my best friends came to town and I had a little gathering. It was a lovely, low-key evening, filled with much food and exuberant girl talk.

I made a few main dishes and everyone brought sides. There was a LOT of food. At the party, I took a plate, filled it and never went back for more. I was completely satisfied with what I ate and spent my time talking, rather than grazing the table.

When everyone left, I begged them to take food home. No, you can’t leave the chicken fingers, I whined. I’ll eat them all. Take the cake! And for the love of all, take the Town House crackers. I’m powerless over them.

Good job, me, right? I felt good about my choices at the party. But fast forward just a couple of days later. You know what no one took home? The spinach dip. The spinach dip that I made, mind you, full of creamy (not a bit low-fat) yumminess that sits in a Hawaiian bread bowl of sweet goodness. And it was calling me from the fridge.

So I took a pinch or two. Then another. Then I decided to bring it over to the table while I was watching TV. Bad idea. Very bad. I knew I was losing control—and fast. So I folded up the tinfoil bowl and threw it away.

And here’s where I debated even telling you guys this. Because it’s really embarrassing. But I have to do this for myself and for anyone else who may have done this in the past. You already know what I’m going to say, right?

Yep. I went dumpster diving. For spinach dip. OK, it wasn’t a dumpster. It was a trashcan with a (relatively) new bag. But still. I walked past it. I thought about it. And then I threw myself with abandon at the trashcan to find my precious dip.

After I basically finished it, I felt awful—physically and emotionally. The old me was not above a little trashcan searching to find something I’d thrown away in an attempt to “be good.” But the new me leaves food on her plate. The new me feels satisfied with a reasonable amount of food. The new me does not eat from a trashcan like a city rat.

But for one evening, I reclaimed my old-me status. And the new me came here to tell you about it. I’m not proud, my friends. But at least I’m honest.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Reflections of grief

It’s been 10 years since I’ve heard her voice. Ten years since I’ve gotten advice from her. Ten years since I held her hand or heard her say “I love you.”

Ten years ago today my life changed forever when my beautiful mother succumbed to melanoma.

In some ways, 10 years is like a lifetime. In other ways, it’s like the blink of an eye.

I think about what I’ve done these past 10 years and how I’ve managed without her. When I lost my mom, I lost my biggest cheerleader, my sagest advisor, my greatest hero and my best friend.

But in many ways, I lost myself, too. For 10 years, I’ve been afraid to live, afraid to hurt, afraid to feel. I was cocooned in my grief without really even knowing it—buried under pizza boxes and fast food wrappers. I was shut off from all my feelings. If I couldn’t feel, no one could hurt me.

When my mom died, I was 25. I was in limbo—in so many ways an adult, but in so many other ways, still just a girl who needed her mommy. I am fortunate to have a loving family and wonderful friends. But without my mom, I was lost.

For the past several months, I have fought to find myself. I have discovered my voice. I have uncovered my strength. I know my mom would want me to truly live, even without her. But it took me all this time to learn that. I feel like I’m finally emerging as the person I’m meant to be—the person my mom taught me to be.

So today I celebrate my mom. And I celebrate myself, because that’s what she would want me to do.

I miss you every day, Mom. I hope you’re proud of me.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Wednesday pictures

Here are some photos from today:

Yum! Started my day with an egg-white omelet from Fountainside

Oh look. It's another food picture. Yay for salad from Chick-Fil-A. Their light Italian dressing is my favorite.


Reverse flies at the gym.

Remind me never to take a picture with my gorgeous and tall trainer, Jessica.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

The picture of health

I thought I'd try something new this week—photo blogging.
Beginning with a bonus picture from the weekend, I will be taking a few photos of me doing healthy (ish) things this week and posting them. I'll post throughout the day, so keep checking.

Gee, remember when a simple photo used to freak me out? Here goes nothing:

Sunday, I went hiking with my friend Kate. It was probably about 5 or 6 miles—definitely a new experience for me.
Checking my ActiPed this morning. That little hike gave me more than 11,000 steps Sunday.
My weekly Weight Watchers weigh-in with Tia. For someone who refused to look at the scale for years, it's kind of a miracle to have a photo with me on one.
Today's results were good! Lost 3.4 last week and got a new 5-pound star. What's my total? Count the stars (the little ones--the big one is my 5 percent.)
Love my water. On my second bottle of the day.
My favorite snack—Weight Watchers Chocolate Pretzel Blasts. So.good.