Branded!

As a 5' 10" 300+ pound woman, shopping always terrified me.

Shopping malls made me anxious. If a friend wanted to go shopping in a clothing store, I would hang out by the accessories. And not even the rings or the bracelets. The necklaces. Maybe the scarves. Or the socks. I pretended to care about shopping for...socks.

And as my friends would try on clothes and could choose any color of any item off of any rack, I just tried to avoid the awkward interaction with a sales person on the floor.

"Are you finding everything ok?"

"No, not really. In fact, nothing you have here fits me. Not even close. And I have to wait here while my naturally thin friends have to decide what to buy because they have all the choices in the world."

(actually, the only answer I could ever muster up was "Yup! Thanks!" I always wondered if they were questioning why I was even in their store in the first place, because the up and down looks I got sort of tipped me off...)

Since I started the push towards weight loss surgery in March, I started at 318 pounds. I ripped out a page from the LL Bean catalog and put it on my fridge. It was a page with regular women's clothing. Sizes S-XL. I had never been able to fit into anything smaller than the largest plus size LL Bean had -  a 3XL. That picture was my motivation that everyday choices might one day get me into everyday sizes.

On Black Friday, a few friends and I were among the crazies to go shopping at an outlet mall. I walked into J. Crew to just get some perspective of where I was with everyday sizes. It took courage for me to take an XXL shirt off of the rack and try it on in a dressing room. It took courage for me to pick out another XL shirt just to see how close I could be to fitting into an everyday size. I have shopped at Old Navy online for everything. That had been my only choice. And my mind had been trained to look for the biggest sizes everywhere i go. The bigger my clothes were, the more I could...hide. Baggy clothes made me feel small. But, baggy clothes also made me feel...small. In all the ways I didn't want.

So there I was in the J. Crew changing room and I had a moment. That XXL shirt was too big. That XL shirt fit me perfectly. And their chinos. And their sweaters. And I was no longer the largest size they carried. I fit in. And I proudly replaced that XXL button down knowing I would never need it again.

That LL Bean catalog clipping is gone from my fridge, replaced by new milestones to hit. And I have since had to downsize my pants from the Gap. Every time I wear my LL Bean shirt or my J Crew chinos or my Gap pants I can't believe they fit. When I take them out of the dryer to do laundry I still think "these aren't my pants, these are tiny."

I am waiting for my brain to catch up to my body. But every day is progress. And every day is a day I accept as it is. And who knows? Maybe you'll see me shopping at stores in the mall soon. And maybe I'll roll into one of the "fancy" stores I used to go to and get up and down looks while perusing their sock collection and ask the salesgirl: "You work on commission, right? Big mistake! Big! Huge!"

I think Julia Roberts would be proud.

Side effects

Picture on the left? Thanksgiving last year. Picture on the
right? Me at the car dealership a few weeks ago. With
less "size on me..."

So, I am about 4 1/2 months out from surgery (July 11th). The weather is changing here in North Carolina. And I have lost my outer layer of warmth, about 99 pounds of it actually.

I am freezing. All the time. Side effect.

Today, for instance, was a sunny day, high of about 50 degrees. So naturally I wore wool socks and two jackets. I am forever wearing wool socks and two jackets. I also had to steal a space heater from a co-worker. Thanks, AB!

A few weeks ago, I got a new car. It reminded me of the last time I shopped for a new car three years ago. I remember going to the dealership and the Ford salesman asked what I was looking for. I told him an SUV, anything from an Explorer to an Escape.

The poor guy looked at me and said "hmmm...not sure you would want an Escape. You have some size to you."

I say "poor guy" because I bet the look on my face was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole. I "have some size" to me? Are you allowed to say that? The sad thing is...he was right. I just hated that he was right. So I got an Explorer, and walked away feeling the opposite you feel when you get a new car: embarrassed and ashamed.

But that was then. And this is now. I could get any car I want this time. In fact, my rental car was a tiny Toyota Corolla for a few weeks and you know what? I fit in it just fine. I don't have that "size" to me anymore. Side effect.

But today, today was a great side effect I wasn't anticipating. I probably work out in the mornings 5 times a week. It's the same crowd at the Y at that time, and I know most of the faces but we are there to get a job done and leave so there isn't a whole lot of socializing. This morning, a woman I have seen often but never have talked to took her headphones out to talk to me. I found out her name is Kimberly. Here's how the conversation went:

Kimberly: "You look amazing! What are you doing?"
Me: "Well, I had weight loss surgery in July, but I have to stay active and work the plan to stay healthy."
Kimberly "I am doing the low carb thing, it's so hard."
Me: "You are in here every time I'm here so you are doing something right!"
(insert small talk about squats and sugar and the bench press)
Kimberly: "I have to tell you, you are my inspiration to show up in the mornings. Watching your transformation motivates me to keep trying."
(insert me sweating and also crying a little bit too.)

What?! I didn't go into this thinking it would affect other people like it has. Every day is a chance for me to encourage someone else that tells me how happy and healthy I look. And it's not just about weight loss. It's about taking chances. Asking for help. Knowing your worth. Fighting for yourself. Some of the conversations I have gotten to have have been unexpectedly deep and meaningful and I love it.

Like Kimberly. Who just needs that extra push from a familiar face at the Y. Change is possible, you just need someone in your life to remind you. Side effect.

4 months, 5 miles, and 87 pounds

I just discovered running tights! Wow, this is a
great time to be alive I swear it.

I'm coming up on 4 months since my July 11th surgery date. I'm also coming up on week 6 of training for a little half marathon in March. Running certainly has changed the way I think and multiplied the ways I am thankful for daily life.

When I was 320 pounds in March, I certainly limited my life in so many ways. Being overweight and turning to food for comfort has been a physical barrier my whole life and has kept me from loving fully and being fully loved. Like any other addiction or replacement, food kept me isolated. As I gained weight and became bigger, my world became smaller. I took less chances, made less plans, and experienced less of life.

Don't get me wrong, if you know me, you know I have always been full of life. I have always been social and cared for people around me. But there was always a sense I could never fully be myself with that barrier separating me from the world. After all, how are we supposed to accept love fully when we don't fully love ourselves?

So here I am today at 231 pounds. 87 pounds down since March. And here I am this morning after running 5 miles. Running is a lifelong habit for some, but it has always been an unattainable goal to me, something I admired in others but never thought I could accomplish. I am following a specific training plan to prepare for the half in March, and this week I have run 15 miles. Every mile has been a reminder of where I have come from.

It is nice to be running towards something now, rather than running away from something. It is nice to be showing up rather than hiding. It is nice to be seeing the world in a bigger way rather than watching my world get smaller and smaller.

Today is November 4th. And I am thankful. For all the ways I am finding who I truly am. The person that was hiding behind the weight and can now be fully seen. Here's to the next 40 pounds!

Get out of your own head.

We were all just happy to have made it!

There are a lot of things that naturally thin people don't think about. And I am sure that several of those things are things that happened to me this past week.

For example, I was being interviewed at a meeting for my town commissioner work, and I showed up before the interview was to start. It was in a large auditorium. When I got there, I saw two high-top chairs for the interview. No big deal, right?

You see, high-top chairs are not a friend to those of us that struggle with weight. They are often flimsy, and relatively small, making us wonder if they will hold us for one, and if our backsides will actually fit on the seat. In the past, I have found these chairs so uncomfortable that I would avoid restaurants that had them as the only seating option. So to have that as my "perch" during a 60-minute interview gave me anxiety.

Another example is this: I went to a local ice cream shop with friends that used to be a very old fast food restaurant. The only seating is fixed booths. The last time I was there (about 10 months ago), I had to pull a stool over from the other side of the restaurant because I couldn't fit in the booth. I laughed it off at the time because I was with a group of people and you know, that's what you do. You laugh at yourself before someone else has the chance to laugh at you (classic elementary school survival technique).

And the third example that happened to me last night: I went to a haunted forest called Panic Point with a group of friends. I had never been there before but I heard that you walk through a lot of dark, tight spaces. How tight are these spaces? Will I be able to get through them? These haunted houses were designed for the average person. But not people like me. What do I do if I get stuck? How tight are we talking here?

I have pondered all three of these events this week and came to one conclusion: my brain has not yet caught up to my body.

Not only that, but I am reminded of perspective and the danger of getting into my own head too much. In my own head, I am still 320 pounds and can't sit on a high-top chair or fit in a restaurant booth or walk through your average haunted house. But when I have recounted those fears to a close friend, the reality is so much different. My friend reminds me I am 80 pounds lighter and running 12 miles a week and can fit on all the chairs, restaurant booths, and haunted houses that I want to.

So, I sat comfortably in that high-top chair. I fit confidently in that booth. And I walked like a scared puppy through those tight haunted houses. (Yes I fit! Yes it was still scary!)

While I am waiting for my brain to catch up to my body, I have learned to get out of my own head. Alone, I hear voices that just don't tell the truth. But with friends, I am reminded of who I really am. And that perspective is what will save us from ourselves.

It doesn't matter what you are battling. I just happen to be battling an obvious weight struggle. Other battles are more private and don't show on the surface like mine does. Each one of us has our thing. But I am telling you: don't battle alone. Lock arms with the ones that love you and fight.

Step one: get out of your own head.

Am I going to fit?

How many times does this ride go
upside down?

When you've been overweight as long as you can remember like I have, you never really forget that the world isn't really made for you.

As of today, I am down 67 pounds. I am fitting into the smallest stuff I own, and have pretty much gotten rid of all my old clothes. I even ordered some pants from The Gap and they fit. When I hold them in my hands, I think they are someone else's pants. When I put them on, I think there is no way they will fit. But they do. And I still can't believe it.

But the big win for the week for me was conquering that roller coaster fear. The last time I did this was in 2012. Pretty soon after that, I injured my back, and that started the surgeries that derailed me and contributed to me gaining about 70 pounds back over the course of a few years.

So here we are, in 2018, and my best friend Julie (who loves roller coasters) invited me to go to Howl-A-Scream with a group to Busch Gardens. I remember saying yes a few months ago thinking "oh it's a few months away, sure I'll go! Last time I rode a roller coaster in 2012 I got nauseous all day, but I'm sure I''ll be fine!"

Saturday arrived, and we approached the first ride called Apollo's Chariot. No upside down or backwards, no problem. Except one problem. Will I fit into the roller coaster seat? If you're naturally thin, you've never thought about this. But when you struggle with weight your whole life like me, you wonder about the airplane seat. And the restaurant booth. And the roller coaster seat. I even remember as a middle schooler, waiting in line for a ride at Hershey Park and getting to the front only to find I couldn't fit into it, and having to slink off to the exit. As a middle school girl. Humiliating.

I guess it's become enough of an issue that, thankfully, theme parks now have a "tester" seat at the front of some of their

rides. These tester seats are for "larger park guests" that don't want to be humiliated after waiting in line and then not fitting.

So Julie and I got up to the ride, saw the tester seat, and I turned to her in a panic and said "What if I get to the front of the line and I can't fit in the seat?" And THIS is why we need good friends. She looked at me almost shocked and said "You will never have to worry about that again."

So I sat in the seat. And I fit. And I realized my brain has yet to catch up to my body. I still see myself as I was at 320 pounds, not fitting in, and being scared of new adventures where I can't control my environment. And the roller coaster? Terrifying.

We moved on to the next ride called Da Vinci's Cradle and it had a seatbelt in the seat. Which fit around my waist, and I was shocked. And then there was a bar that was supposed to latch down over you. I grabbed the bar and it wouldn't latch. I turned to my friend Julie, again, and had a panicked look on my face like "I'm too big for this ride" and right when I thought that, realized that the staff hadn't yet locked it down on the whole ride. It had nothing to do with me. Again, my brain couldn't believe I could fit, and I had that panicked look on my face that I had been used to my whole life: "I am too big to fit."

Shout out to Da Vinci's Cradle. The
motion sickness was too real.

The fun plot twist of the day is that motion sickness doesn't get better as you age, it gets a LOT worse. So I spent half the day on dramamine trying to recover from Da Vinci's Cradle (which goes backwards waaaaaay too much) and another coaster called Verbolten that takes you into complete darkness and scrambled my stomach beyond repair. But, once the dramamine kicked in, I ended the day again on Apollo's Chariot because I needed to end on a high note, not a pukey one.

The moral of my Busch Gardens story? Trust your friends. I see that theme in my life a lot lately. I am the queen of getting into my own head too much. Trust your friends. When you overthink something and are inconsolable, trust your friends. Find that one or two people that you trust, and let them in fully. Don't be afraid to get hurt. You will get hurt. Because people hurt each other. But the best friends are the ones that stay with us through the pain. And talk it out. And ask forgiveness. And accept your forgiveness.

Trust your friends. They know where you fit. And where you belong.

I can't thank this patient group enough (l to r: Melanie,
Julie, Aaron, motion sickness girl, and Amy)

You just have to go through it.

Last night I went through my closet to start getting rid of clothes that no longer fit. I tried on almost everything I had before putting it aside for Goodwill. I thought about events I wore certain clothes to. I thought about how long I had certain outfits, the friends I was with when I wore them, and how I have kept things for so long because they were too small and I now hoped I could fit into them. And here I was, missing that window, and now passing those clothes on to someone else.





I dreaded going through my closet. I'm not exactly sure why. I wanted to keep the door shut and not go through it. But when I woke up this

morning, I realized why I was so afraid to go through it: 

What if I gain all the weight back and need those clothes again?

I have been through this before. About 5 years ago, I lost 80 pounds. Then, due to a long struggle with a back injury, I had two back surgeries within two years and gained almost all the weight back. At my smallest, I gave all my clothes away, and swore I would never gain the weight back. Then I did.

That's part of the reason I sought surgical help to lose the weight and keep it off. I couldn't do it alone. And as the weight is coming off, there is still that fear that one day, it will come back on again. The fear is not logical, but that small voice is always there.

It is easier to go around things than go through them. It is easier for me to keep my closet door shut and not face the past, or fear the future. But easier is not better. I just have to go through it. When faced with pain, we have that fight or flight reaction which can be visceral and subconscious. But, I am practicing the art of being present, to let others into this struggle with me. I am choosing to fight. To go through it and not around it.

So, I am taking these clothes to Goodwill. And I am staring at an empty closet. But as a wise friend told me, this is not a phase. This is a beginning. I am finding so much value in living in this moment, and not worrying about tomorrow. We just have to go through it. Not around it.

A fork in the road.

Sometimes a seemingly unimportant decision can change everything.

So I finally broke my stall with the scale. I am moving in the right direction again, and eating has become a little easier. I am able to tolerate cheese and dairy, and it is nice to chew again! Those protein shakes were starting to get a little boring.

I am down about 55 pounds, and I can really see it. And when I don't see it, other people see it in me. Like I said in my last blog, I am learning to trust my friends. So when I still feel like that hopeless fat girl that can't lose weight, I trust the process. And I trust my friends.

This whole thing has brought up so many raw emotions for me. In the past, when I felt emotional, I would stuff it down with my favorite foods. And then I would feel the discomfort and the guilt. And I would get emotional. And stuff it down with my favorite foods. That's the cycle.

But now, I couldn't do that even if I wanted to. My body would reject it. So instead, I am going outside and walking. Or working out, or lifting weights, or just (shocker!) letting PEOPLE into my emotions, and not just food.

A friend has challenged me to run a half marathon. When she asked me I certainly thought "Me? You must be texting the wrong person." But yesterday, we went running. It was the first time for me to be running outside in years. But she stayed with me, and we made it happen. It's amazing what happens when you don't go through life alone.

Half way down the trail, God showed me unconditional love in the form of the friendliest fawn and her two babies. Yes, I pet the deer on her head. Yes, she was licking my arm. No, that's not photoshopped.

How do I know it was God? Because God is in the details. And God is unconventional. And God knows that I don't pay attention. So He came near. And He made yesterday matter. This seemingly unimportant decision to go running with my friend brought me to a fork in the road. And I chose not to do life alone anymore. I am choosing to do life with others. And God came near.

It is much easier to think you can do it alone. Take it from me, I am independent to a fault. You can't. And honestly, easier is not better. This. This is better. This is an adventure. And what fun is experiencing adventure alone?

The half marathon is in March. I signed up today, terrified but faithful. Because my friend is with me. That's how I know I'm going to be ok. We all are!

Trust your friends.

So I had my follow-up one month nutritionist class yesterday. My program is great because surgery is not the end. I have follow-ups for about a year that include everything from blood work to nutrition counseling to therapy. And thank God for that because I have been inside my own head quite a bit in the last month.

At the end of class, you meet individually with the nutritionist. The conversation went a little something like this:

Nutritionist: "So, how are you doing?"
Me: "Pretty good. I can still only tolerate three shakes a day and I'm not doing much solid food."
Nutritionist: "What do you think the problem is?"
Me: "I don't know, it took me about an hour to eat a greek yogurt the other day, My body just wasn't interested."
Nutritionist: "Yeah, that's part of the deal. You just need to be patient with yourself."
Me: "Story of my life. I still feel like I am the medical anomaly that this surgery won't work for because I've been stalled out with the scale."
Nutritionist: "You are at the the three week stall. It happens to everyone. Your body has gone through trauma and it's trying to recover. How's your support system at home?"
Me: "Well, I live alone but my friends have been amazing. People have been taking me for walks, working out with me, and really encouraging me."
Nutritionist: "And are they seeing progress in you?"
Me: "Yes, my friends keep telling me my face changes weekly. It's hard for the fat girl in me to believe it's working!"
Nutritionist: "You should trust your friends."

Mic drop.

You know this whole thing is not just about weight loss. It never was. When you choose to live a healthy life and choose to take your life back, all kinds of amazing things begin to happen. For me, when I decided to be vulnerable, let down my walls, and let people in, my life completely changed. We all walk through life in self-preservation mode. The problem with that, is that walls keep bad things out sure, but they also keep the best things out too.

I don't know about you, but I want to live a life that is open and available to the good and the bad. I would rather love and be hurt than never experience love to begin with. And that is all about trust. My nutritionist in all her professional glory is right. I should trust my friends. I should trust my friends with the most vulnerable parts of me. Because I am learning, that's the best stuff of all.

"You are f**king worthy!"

A sign from my friend's classroom. Kids need to hear this.
So do we.

So I am two weeks out of surgery. My days are pretty basic right now. I have a few regimens I have to keep. I take 10 vitamins a day at very specific times. I have to find a way to get at least 80 grams of protein in and 100 ounces of water. No sugar, and no carbs. That is more challenging than it seems since I can't chug water or eat anything quickly. I eat with a baby spoon and it takes me about 30 minutes to try and eat an egg. But good news! I can eat an egg!

One of my favorite basic things right now is walking with friends. I have had great walks with great friends almost every day. Our bodies want to move, it's part of recovery. Most of these walks turn to deep conversation quickly, which I LOVE. Because let's be real...that's what matters most.

My friend and I were talking about life and love and how we settle for second best so much in life. We talked about this idea that people use love as currency. I will only give you as much love as you will give me, I will spend love like money, and I will withhold love like money. Why do we do that?

I think that all of us, in different seasons, have settled because we don't think we deserve more. That someone, somehow along the way, has put something in our heads to make us believe we don't deserve everything. I know I have. For years and years and years.  So instead of working through pain, I would stuff it down with food. Instead of reaching out to others, I would reach into a drive-thru window.

It's amazing what happens when the thing I used to always turn to for comfort, is no longer an option. I used to live to eat. Truly. Now, I am struggling to eat to live. Protein shakes are keeping me alive. And I am finding so much more comfort from people in my life. More than I ever dreamed I would. And that would not have happened if I didn't let go of the comfort I was seeking in food.

Let's not waste anymore time. Let's stop keeping a record of wrongs and start trusting each other. Let's spend love without caring about how much we get back. At the end of my walk on Tuesday, and our conversation around this, my friend declared "You are f**king worthy!" She is so right. We all are.

We all are.

When the boat splits from the dock.

When I was in high school, I worked at a young life camp in New York called Lake Champion. I was there volunteering for 5 weeks, and it was the best summer of my life for all the reasons. One of those transformational experiences that every 17 year old needs and longs for.

I worked in the kitchen, and on a break one day I went on a little boat ride across the lake with one of my staff friends. We got back to the dock so I could go back to work. Right at that time, all of the kids were getting out of club (which is like a big assembly) and about 500 of them were walking along the waterfront. 

I got up to hop out of the boat. I put one foot on the dock, and kept one foot in the boat. And I hesitated. I hesitated just long enough to look down and watch in slow motion terror as the boat split from the dock. And my legs split from each other. And the windmill arms started, and I took a swim.

I took a swim wearing jeans and kitchen gear (complete with apron). Have you ever tried to gracefully emerge from lake water in jeans and an apron? Don't.

The best part as I shimmied myself up onto the dock was the silence from 500 high schoolers on the waterfront. But then, the impending applause and general laughter at the balancing act they just got to see. To this day, watching windmill arms when someone's falling is one of my favorite things. Because when have windmill arms ever saved you from falling?!

The morale of the story? Don't hesitate. When you need to jump, jump. Don't waffle between where you were and where you're going. I am finding it so scary to navigate this new life that is revealing itself to me, because I don't trust it yet. I still think I will be the one medical anomaly for whom duodenal switch surgery doesn't work for. Even though I have lost 39 pounds since I started the program (and that's down 20 pounds since July 11th surgery date), I still can't picture what's to come as the scale continues to go down. And I still can't believe it's going to work, because I have lost weight before and then watched it come back.

The boat left the dock for me on July 11th. The good news is that I was safely drugged up on the dock when the boat left. I didn't have a choice to stay in it. Now I get to explore this new land that the dock is connected to.

It's not brain surgery.

You may have won the battle, Oikos, but you
will not win the war.

I must admit, it is jarring to go from a rather hectic life of working at the YMCA (which is pretty much a 24-7 job) and being a town commissioner (which is pretty much a 24-7 job) to a life of trying to drink 8 ounces of water and keep down yogurt.

My nausea subsided yesterday, thank God! My goal yesterday was stay hydrated, and try to get in 80-100 grams of protein. It took me two hours to eat a yogurt. And I didn't come close to getting in my protein goal. But I am taking it slow and trying not to overdue it. The littlest things wear me out. I did laundry and took a shower and I felt like I had run a marathon.

But the most interesting thing I have found it how my brain is still thinking about food. It doesn't help that most commercials are about food. And not just food...how happy people are when they can eat bottomless fries and giant burgers with onion straws and mountains of cheese cake and unlimited salad and breadsticks (yes, I am talking to you, Red Robin and Olive Garden). It is surprising that those images don't nauseate me. They actually make me hungry. And a little bit sad.

But that's because my doctor operated on my gut, not my brain. My brain still wants to live like an overeater. In fact, my brain still thinks that I can. And that's the trickiest thing about the next few weeks...to focus on eating to live, not living to eat.

My kind neighbor wanted to help me and bring food over, but she stopped herself and we both laughed at how food is love. When people are sick, we bring them food. When there is a wedding, we eat cake. When there is a funeral, we bring casseroles.

One of my co-workers stopped himself when he said he wanted to set up a meal chain for me while I was out. Again, we both recognized that food is how we show love. It is so difficult to retrain our brains to think about NOT turning to food in crisis, emotions, celebrations, and social outings.

I'll let you know when I figure that one out. For today, I am focusing on conquering that greek yogurt.  And taking life one small baby spoon bite at a time. (no seriously...I had to buy baby spoons at Target...)

Life with the boys

Shiloh (left) and Georgie (right).

Let me tell you, being 42 and single is hard. Very hard. I fight selfishness every day. When you don't have anyone to take care of outside of yourself, you become extremely self-reflective and self-critical. When you don't have other lives to care for, you tend to turn inward and isolated.

I've never been one of those girls that have thought "being married will complete me." I have enough friends that fight for their marriages and work hard to make it work to believe that marriage is the answer to loneliness. But being self-aware doesn't make loneliness less of an issue.

God has a way of making things simple when I overcomplicate my life. So in the midst of such a difficult season, he found a way to bring me two of the greatest gifts I didn't know I needed.

Enter Shiloh and Georgie.

To avoid a 3,000 word essay on why dogs are awesome, here are the lessons they have taught me about life. Lessons that work with dogs and people alike:

• Guilt is an effective motivator, but love is the lasting motivator. Shaming a dog can be a quick fix, but loving a dog with patience is a lasting one. Sound familiar?
• Unconditional love is a real thing. Love can be so simple. We just complicate it instead of being open and accepting it.
• It is good to care for someone other than yourself. These dogs run my schedule now and I LOVE it. Being forced to put the needs of something else first at times is good for my soul.

I do think animals are God's gift to us. A reminder of simple joy, and simple love. I hope that one day I can be the person that my dog thinks I am. For now, though, I am just loving life with Shiloh and Georgie and the ways they make my life softer and more simple.

Also, how can you say no to those faces?

Shiloh is 4 years old and loves me completely.
Other people, not so much!

Georgie just turned two and he is the town mascot
for Wake Forest! He fulfills his duty with honor.

Georgie is a therapy dog at our local retirement home.
It's the best part of my week to watch him with the
memory care patients.

Nobody blogs from the valley

A few years ago, I lost 80 pounds. Rather publicly because I shared the journey and had a ton of accountability and it was amazing. A time worth blogging about.

Since then, sidelined by two back surgeries and a general loss of willpower and interest, I have gained back most of the wait. Rather quietly because I didn't share that journey and it was terrible. A time that no one blogs about because nobody blogs from the valley.

But guys great news! I have stopped the slide into complacency and I made a choice exactly seven days ago to focus on my health again. Walking out of the valley isn't going to be easy but I am no longer willing to stay there.

What happened seven days ago that clicked? Several things collided but one thing in particular is worth sharing. My friend reminded me of a show called "My 600lb Life." If you haven't seen it, it's on TLC and it shares a year in the life of someone who is trying to get their life back with weight loss surgery.

This show is extreme. People who let themselves reach that weight have lived extreme circumstances and cope with food in extreme ways. But I saw myself in those weight loss surgery patients. None of them ever thought they would weigh 600 pounds. They never stopped the slide into complacency.

The other great thing about the show is that it dives deep into the emotional and psychological reasons that we use food as a coping mechanism. Food has always been my drug of choice and I saw myself in all the conversations patients were having on this show.

Sharing the struggle is part of what will make me successful. The struggle is also the reason most of us stay quiet. I have really debated whether or not to start blogging again. There certainly is some embarrassment that I am not where I was. But if you know me, you know that I LOVE to embarrass my friends in public so it's time to let that embarrassment go and choose to be honest.

And if I can be ok with public embarrassment, maybe my friends will follow?

When God showed up.

Is it me that shows up, or is it God in me that shows up?

I would be remiss to not document the epic nature of this day. Remember, Thursday (two days ago) was round two of my steroid shots. And on Thursday (two days ago) I could barely stand. And here it is, Saturday. And this is what happened today:

I spent the morning with God. Like every morning in the past two weeks. This, in itself, has been an epic and essential part of my life. It's a joke that I try to maintain a relationship with God when I don't give Him any of my time. Anyone else in my life would have moved on by now. Some have. And who could blame them?

As I was writing in my journal this morning about my physical struggle, God put it in my heart to toss all my junk food out. All of it. So I did. Anything questionable in my house that was impeding my progress was purged. That was amazing.

God showed up.

Mid-morning I went down to NC State to have lunch with the Wizard. Now if you don't know her, you are really missing out. All the while, my leg feels stronger, my back felt loser, and my heart felt fuller. Yeah, fuller.

Do I dare try a workout? I did dare. And I was so...nervous. I have felt defeated, watching myself gain weight back and not be able to control it. Watching my progress turn to regress is heartbreaking. I got on the bike and started pedaling.

And then, God showed up again. In the form of my friend Nancy who works out at the Y frequently, walks with a cane, and never fails to smack my perspective back in line. I said a simple hello to Nancy, but what I really wanted to say is: "you INSPIRE me. Every single day that I see you, and I don't tell you that enough."

So I biked. And I did an upper body workout, and I have never, ever felt so grateful for my hands. And my feet. And the ability to walk. And strength. And progress and struggle and all points in between. Because amidst the peaks and valleys, no matter where I am, God shows up.

I know SO many of you prayed for my healing. I cannot thank you enough. I am overwhelmed with gratitude, and humbled by your love for me. Because of you, God showed up.

It's time for me to start showing up for God a little more.

-Liz

White flag.

This woman has wisdom. AND a
motorcycle license.
Perfect combination.

Another early morning where instead of doing what I would choose to do if I was able (work out), I have to do what was chosen for me. Ice my back. Make coffee. Take medication. Sit with God. This is the 2 hour window that I need to prep for my day so I can actually be a walking, functioning member of society.

Tomorrow I have round two of my spine injections. I am putting a lot of hope in tomorrow. What God is asking me this morning: "Why can't you put THAT much hope in Me, today?" I still don't trust God fully. That is disappointing.

The temptation here is to hurry up the healing. But isn't that our way? "As soon as this is over, everything will be great." "If only I was past this, I could get back on track." "If I just didn't have to deal with this, I would be more thankful."

I am learning how to wave the white flag here. I have to surrender. I can fight this all I want, and cry every day about it (which happens each morning, like clock work), or I can surrender. I preach surrender to other people every day. But now it's time for me to man up and do it myself.

I am a fixer. I want to fix things and immediately move on. I equate this problem with that stupid show "Extreme Home Makeover." (sorry if you like it, but it is really emotional propoganda.) They set out to do great things. They rebuild a home in a week. I always wanted them to go back to that house a year later to see how it's fallen apart because of the carelessness of rushing through a renovation.

I want to be renovated by God from the foundation up. And I can only imagine how much time that takes. Because I am tough. And God knows that. He also knows how long this will take so that the change will actually stick.

So it's white flag time. For me. And maybe for something in your life too?

-Liz

...the agony of defeat.

Over the 4th of July week, I went to Mexico to an all-inclusive resort. For some people, moderation relates to the unlimited alcohol you can get there. For me, moderation related to the unlimited food that I got there.

I haven't truly recovered since.

Getting back on track is so hard. SO hard. It's hard for me to come to terms with the scale. It hasn't dipped down to where it used to be. I am tired, I don't want to do the 60 minutes of cardio that I need to do. I don't want to eat well. I want to do...whatever I want.

Pride.

Since the rollercoaster ride was over, I tasted victory that made me feel like I was done with all this. I have gotten too comfortable in this new size so I am not going after losing weight like I need to. I have lost the sense of urgency, forgotten that this is the fight of my life, and ignored it.

Mistake.

Yesterday I pulled myself upstairs to work out. I got on the elliptical and decided to listen to sermons instead of music. I thought of Elevation Church in Charlotte because my friend Cameron goes there. I ended up listening to two random sermons by Steven Furtick.

The first one was about facing your fears (you can find it here). In the middle of it, the pastor said, and I quote (from memory, so it's truly paraphrased):

"Maybe you eat because you're happy, or you're sad. You're celebrating, or your mourning, you're lonely, or you're in community. Overeating is never about a lack of discipline, it's about the presence of fear. Fear is preventing you from living out the life that God has intended for you."

Why was this 30-something, thin pastor guy talking about overeating? Needless to say, I was on the elliptical CRYING. Sweating and crying. I figured it was ok since tears look like my sweat drops anyway. Whatever.

Then the 2nd sermon (you can find it here, try to ignore the cool guy soul patch vibe)...was based on only one verse: 1st Samuel 16:1 which says:

The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? 

So the gist of his sermon is this: How long will you continue to mourn for what God has rejected?

How long will I continue to mourn for what God has rejected? For some of us, it's a bad relationship. For some of us, it's an addiction to anything - a person, a thing, a place, a time of life, a job, you name it.

For me, it's my reliance on food. And Furtick CALLS THAT ONE OUT specifically in his sermon! God spoke to me directly through my stupid iPhone podcast on the stupid elliptical. How long will I continue to mourn for Bojangles, for Ben and Jerry, for Krispy Kreme, for feeling painfully full and using food as my comfort? God has clearly rejected this in my life, I have just chosen to ignore Him.

So I went home and I erased my white board with my "# of pounds to next goal" written on it. I need to reset. I need to start over. I need to live today in victory, and that means letting go of the weight I gained back. I am trying to.

Maybe this is Phase 2. Or maybe it's Phase 32. I don't know. I just know that I have to roll with the punches and not give up. I have to move on, realize the seriousness of the battle, and let go of the past.

How long will YOU continue to mourn over something that God has rejected?

-Liz

What keeps you running?

I remember, very clearly, being a student at Unionville High School and watching people run around the track and having anxiety like you would not believe. That oval has always been foreign to me. In fact, the entire world of athletes and sports and fitness seemed to be my natural enemy.

It's hard to explain what's been happening to me in terms of my relationship with working out. I have two women that I meet with regularly to talk about our weight struggles and victories. When we first started meeting, I didn't believe my friend Pam when she told me that "one day, you won't be dying to eat fast food like you are now." I didn't believe my trainer when she told me that "one day, you will crave working out like you crave junk food now."

I thought they were crazy. I was very wrong.

There is a shift that happens when you choose that you are worth saving. This shift happens when I said to myself "I deserve a life better than this cycle of eating crap secretly and using food to fill the places in my heart that only God can fill." Most of us don't believe we are worth the unconditional love that God is offering to us. So we try to find that love in things that ultimately let us down, leave us more broken than we started, and put us on a path of self-destruction.

That's what food has done for me, and it showed on my physically. How many of us have those things in our lives, but the evidence isn't as obvious?

Yesterday morning I got up and I ran 4 miles. This morning I got up and I ran 4 miles. Running has become my thinking spot. I truly see Jesus Himself running beside me and showing me the path ahead and reflecting on the path behind. We have come so far. We all have. And the allusions to life that I get while I am running are endless. Hills, valleys, weather, speed, distance, all of it.

The one thing that struck me today, though, is this: I am never going back to how I used to be. How could I ever forget the things that God has shown me? It's like seeing with perfect vision for the first time and then choosing to be blind again. Why would anyone do that? Yet, we all do that to God in certain times of our lives.

Challenge for the day: keep running. Stay in the race, knowing that Jesus is with you. He might be taking you somewhere unknown, but it is somewhere better.

-Liz

The Road Less Traveled

I had a very interesting day. Two big things happened, and I can't tell which is more newsworthy.

Ok, so this first picture is of me with some of my high school friends doing some team building activities today. The notable thing in this picture is, however...my shorts.

I have had these shorts for a while. Mostly as a joke for skits about working out and wearing too-tight clothes. See, I could never wear shorts like this. And if I did. I couldn't move at all in them for fear of splitting my shorts. Most embarrassing moment.

But now, I can. This is a crazy thing to me. I have always worn LONG shorts. Boy shorts. Because they hide my legs. Now I am finding, all this working out is paying off and my legs look...tough. They are going to get tougher, but they are already taking shape. This is a crazy thing, my friends. To hide your body your whole life and then be ok to show off, even if it's just legs...this is victory. My joke about becoming more promiscuous as I lose weight just might not be a joke anymore.

Just kidding, Mom.

The other big thing that happened today? I ran 6 miles. Down this trail. The American Tobacco Trail. It can be boring, it can be monotonous. But for me today, it was a time for reflection with me and Jesus. As I was running, I was thinking about where I came from, what I have been doing to get where I am, and the things that I think now that I NEVER thought I would think.

Could I ever not sit on the couch and snack while watching tv? Could I ever stop going to food for comfort? Could I ever enjoy exercising and not just want it to be done? Could I ever see God in the midst of all of this?

It's amazing how God has taken me on a road that I never thought I would travel. I don't know when it happened, or when my heart changed, but things are moving from my head to my heart, and this is a victory.




It's time to travel down a new road.  Let's do it together. I'm really fun on road trips. Try me.

-Liz

...and the victory flag flies high over the golden arches.

Every week, I meet with my friends Pam and Barb to talk about our weight loss trials and tribulations, victories and triumphs. This past week, Pam was talking about how she has no desire to have a "pig out" day anymore. I told her that I'm just not there yet - that I still can't go into a McDonald's without eating like the old days.

And what, you may ask, did my old days at McDonald's look like? Well, here is an embarrassing admission:

Usually, it was the 2 cheeseburger meal, supersized, with a diet coke. Yes, a diet coke. I didn't want to go overboard, now. Oh and occasionally, add an apple pie. And they used to be 2 for $1, so didn't I want 2, they would ask? Sure, why not? And once, I think I even added chicken nuggets. Alright, take it easy. Quit judging me. It was probably a rough night. Or I was bored. Or, any number of stupid reasons that I would take that all home with me. The calorie total of all that goodness was...

610 for the fries, 300 for each cheeseburger, 280 for the chicken nuggets, and 250 for each apple pie bringing that total to...

1,990 calories. For one meal. To put that into perspective, I now consume less than 1,500 calories a day.

(Another fun one to calculate...I used to be more than willing to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry's in one sitting. A pint of their chocolate chip cookie dough is 920 calories. And that's one of the lower calorie flavors!)


My point is this: I never, ever thought I would be able to go into a McDonald's again without eating like I used to. In fact, when I first started this weight loss journey in September, I would avoid certain routes home so my car wouldn't magically drift into the drive through. But today, today something amazing happened.

I went to Hickory to meet my friend Sam for the day and I really, really wanted coffee. I couldn't find a convenient Starbucks, but I did pass a McDonald's. I went in hungry. I came out with a sugar free vanilla latte in my hand. And you know what? I didn't feel deprived. I didn't feel left out. I didn't feel lonely, I felt EMPOWERED. I felt God's hand on me, and I felt empowered.

Today was a big day. Today was a victory, and today I am grateful to God for how He is carrying me and you through our greatest struggles and into victory.

We should all care enough about ourselves to pay attention to what we put in our mouths. And we should all care enough about our feelings and emotions to stop stuffing them down with food. And you should invite me out for coffee...and we can even go to McDonalds. Turns out, their coffee is awesome.

-Liz

It's not about the pizza. It's about what the pizza represents.

Last night I was on the phone with my friend, having yet another conversation where I am trying not to cry, trying to get over it, trying to be ok with this new lifestyle of mine. I had just gotten back from a 4 day work event, and while I was gone, I kept thinking "I can't wait to go home, sit on my blue couch, and eat a whole pizza."

I told my friend about this, and her response was "yeah, but once you eat that pizza, that ten minutes of enjoyment turns into a regret of over 1,000 calories."

Her response was absolutely correct, but really bothered me. It bothered me because, I am asking my naturally thin friend to understand this important point: It's not about the pizza. It's about what the pizza represents.

Why, in my excitement of relaxing, do I always attach FOOD to that great experience of relaxation and relief? Why can't my thoughts be "I can't wait to go home, sit on my blue couch, and watch tv, or read a book, or talk with my friends, or whatever, fill in the blank." Why does MY blank always end up being - food?

Our naturally thin friends want to help us. They love us. They care about us in every possible way. But the truth is, they might never struggle with food the way we do. Their relaxation dream might not include food. Mine always will. I think my mind will always wander there, always wish I could do that, always wonder what it would be like.

So if it's not about the pizza, what is it about? This might help you (if you don't struggle with food) to understand your friend that does. It is about reverting to a lifestyle of doing what I want, being alone with one of the only friends I let close to me (food), and being able to control my life. You see, when I overeat, when I use food as a comfort, it is historically at home, in private, by myself. It is shameful, it is fearful, it is perpetual, it is an addiction.

I'll be honest...in the old days, it was not uncommon
for me to power through a whole pizza from
Salvio's. And I mean...power through. Past the point
of being full. Just to do it, so I could get rid of it.

Yes, eating too much pizza is a problem and I will regret the calories. But it is a symptom of a MUCH bigger problem: I look to food for comfort. For rest. For relaxation. For validation. For companionship. So as much as I might want to, I could never do that to myself again. Not because of the calories, but because of the lonely place that it takes me. In my heart, I never want to go back to that dark place again.

When I make a food mistake, and I will, I have to move on. I have to forgive myself and let go. But I have made a decision to not use food as a reward anymore. I am not a dog. Food is not my reward.

-Liz