Weigh-in Tuesday: Dear Twelve-Year-Old Heidi

Dear Twelve-year-old Heidi,

Hey, kiddo.  It's me.  It's you.  It's us.

Here I/you/we are at the spring music program in sixth grade.

I'm 32 now, and the other day I stumbled upon a thought I hadn't had in a long time.  I was thinking about you, and your music program in sixth grade, and how you were really having a hard time back then.  Because when you're just on the verge of a breakthrough, things can feel especially dreadful.

I remember that you felt isolated.

For one thing, you didn't feel like you were on the same page as the people in your class.  It was a small class, with tight cliques, and emotions running rampant as prepubescent hormones blossomed.  They grew up into some great people, but at the time, you were drifting apart from them.  Couples were pairing off, and it really stung as some your closest friends started holding hands with some of your crushes.  Ah, crushes.  So called for their ability to crush a little heart.  You felt completely unpretty.  You definitely felt fat - though you were at a healthy weight -  and you believed that the fat stood between you and all good things.  It's important that you hang in there, little me.  There are kindred spirits in your future.  There is great love to come.  There is upcoming comfort in your own skin, even when you're actually overweight.  (Even when you're morbidly obese.)  And there is courage to take care good of yourself, too.

For another thing, you were saddled with a teacher who discouraged you.  When you mention to a teacher that you're interested in writing, the last thing you should be told is that you'll never be a good writer.  Heck, even if you were a bad writer at the time (which you weren't) a teacher's job is to encourage and enrich the student, not put them down.  I hate to admit it, but that one statement will come back to haunt you, long after other teachers award you, bosses promote you, clients commend you for your writing.  You'll still secretly worry that your sixth-grade teacher was right, that you'll never be a writer.  But you ARE one.  Throughout your life, you'll work very hard on it, and you'll keep improving at it.  You'll even make a living doing it.

To top it all off, you were getting ready for the spring music program.  Two of the 'cool' girls were asked to do a dance together, and you were secretly (or maybe not-so-secretly) jealous of them.  I know it wasn't so much about the dancing (though you'd been studying ballet for six years)... it was about feeling lonely.  Girls with whom you wanted to fit in were spending extra time together, without you.

Chin up.  You have to realize - you weren't really excluded.  You were, in fact, invited to sing a solo.  But you didn't like the solo, because you wanted to dance with your friends.  And you didn't like the song. It though it was unpopular, like you thought you were unpopular.

But you sang that song anyway. Here you are, doing it.

Here's the thing.  That song?  It's actually one of the most beloved songs in the American music canon.  It became famous in a movie musical.  One that you will grow to love.

You'll watch it for the first time in a few years, at a cozy cabin while eating raspberry pie with your very first kindred-spirit friend.  You'll adore it.  You'll quote from it frequently.  You'll come back to it again and again.

Later in your life, you'll find yourself sitting in a lawn chair, in a cemetery, in the dark.  You'll be snuggled up in blankets, and in your husband's arms.  You'll be surrounded by several of your kindred-spirit friends, as you all stare up at a mausoleum wall, aglow with beautiful scenes from your favorite movie musical of all time.  A cool breeze will swirl around you, and you'll look up and notice that you can just barely make out the outline of the palm trees in the dark

You won't be thinking of how you sang that song in your sixth grade spring music program.  You won't be thinking of anything... except how you feel incredibly - completely - content.

 There's a little piece of advice a former (er, future?) boss gave me once.  When you're feeling jealous of someone because they... have a boyfriend... spend more time with someone else... have a moment in the spotlight... have an easier journey to good health... are more successful in their career...  or for any reason at all... you should:

...Keep your eye on your own plate.

  
It's a figure of speech.  It means that if you're worried about what you don't have, you should focus on what you do have.  Don't have a dance to perform like someone else?  Work hard on that solo, and really savor the fact that you get to have your own private moment in the spotlight.  Haven't sold your screenplays like someone else?  Work hard on them.  Working hard on your writing has always paid off in the past.  (See?  I'm taking the same advice.)

I think it's also good advice to take literally.  You're going to go through a long process of weight gain, little me.  It's going to be hard on you.  But in time, you'll find your balance, and then you're going to take good care of yourself - and try to do it in every way you can.  That's what I'm doing right now.  I'm down a pound this week, but I notice that I've gotten a little bit lax with the measuring, lazy about counting.  So I'm going to work on keeping my eye on my own plate.

You've got big things ahead, twelve-year-old me.  You've got places to go and people to love, who love you.  How's this for a deal?  You keep breathing, and keep trying, and keep being yourself.  And I will, too.  And in another 20 years, maybe we'll get some great insight from 52-year-old Heidi.  In the meanwhile... I am always with you, and you are most definitely always with me.

Love,
Heidi

Supper Club 600: Italian Edition

Before I kick off this Supper Club recap, a quick note to all of you who responded to me yesterday, and within the survey - especially the person who responded with the concern about sugar.

Thank you, all of you, for your support.  The process of weight loss is a very individual and personal one.  Much like clothing, it is not one-size-fits-all. One person's method may seem strange or even unhealthy to someone else.  My personal choices are under the advisement of my doctors, my therapist, and my favorite fitness guru.

Communication is at the core of my success.  My honesty here, and with everyone on my health team, has everything to do with my 68 pounds lost.  Being open to honest questions is part of that communication, as is giving honest answers.  Because I have an addiction to food that I can't - and will never be able to - ignore, it's my responsibility to continue to assess my needs and successes and challenges.  Which I'm doing.  And which currently dictates that my intake of sugar has been in moderation - and helps me to avoid an excess of it.  Nevertheless, it should always be under watch.  Thanks for watching.  I'm watching, too.  But I'm not not going to eat it. That wouldn't help my journey of moderation.   And I'm not not going to write about it.  That wouldn't help my honesty.

**

Right on the heels of last month's BBQ comes the latest edition of...

Supper Club 600, a celebration of healthy food in moderation, is a dinner party we host every other month, each with a different theme and menu.  And every time, we present our guests with a delicious, filling dinner - entree, sides, dessert, beverage - that is less than 600 calories, focused on healthy & natural ingredients.

And this month's theme... is Italian!

Our friend Laura, and her very droll husband Jake, offered up their home for the occasion.  (It was rolling double-party, actually... a new round of people arrived later in the day for Laura's annual pie-tasting party, before she submits the best to KCRW's Good Food pie contest next weekend!  I tried a bite of each, and they were scrumptious.)  A big thanks to Laura and Jake for their hospitality.

Alas, in the rush of hosting in someone else's kitchen, I managed to forget my camera!  All photos in today's blog are courtesy of Rochelle.  (Thanks, Ro!)

One photo I wished I'd gotten, but missed, was a photo of Tom and I, with his mom Jean, and my dad Bruce.  The two of them were an incredible help in the preparation for the party.  My dad even flew in from Michigan with his espresso machine, which we used to make tiramisu the day before, and which he brought (along with his considerable barista skills) to the party, where he served a variety of hot and cold low-calorie (or no-calorie) coffee drinks.

Rochelle sampling Dad's iced mocha handiwork.

When Tom and I put this menu together, our dishes kept adding up to nowhere near 600, so we kept adding dishes!  We must be getting good at the reduction of calories, because it took a lot of dishes to hit closer to the mark.  (We could've increased portion sizes, but we wanted to keep them moderate and increase variety, which is good nutritive practice anyway.)

And when we designed the menu, we wanted to give it a little authentic Italian language.  Cue my brother, who lived in Milan for three years, and who speaks Italian fluently.  Italy doesn't have the concept of a "supper club," per se, but he suggested translating "supper club 600" as "little dinner between friends," which we thought was charming.

Here's the beautiful spread...

(Clockwise from the left) broccoli with lemon and capers; bruschetta; chicken marsala, roasted vegetables;
cannellini with sage; pasta with oil and garlic, and spaghetti squash carbonara

  
...and here are a few of the beautiful people who attended!

Carrie, Rochelle & Alexa

  

Keith & Marc

   

Joe & Sunny, looking dapper.

Many others joined us for the occasion, too. Our guests ranged from the human toddler variety (hi, Theo!) to the elder canine variety (good girl, Emily!)

Emily, the Wonder-Dog.

  
If you'll join me again tomorrow, I'll share the secrets behind some of the recipes, and the inspiration for each dish.  (And, yes, I'll share that recipe for 50-calorie tiramisu.  You won't believe how simple and light it is, especially compared to its 350-calorie counterpart.)

Supper Club is a great way to remind ourselves (and our guests) that taking care of yourself in the kitchen can really be fun and adventurous.  What will you do today, along those lines?

Weigh-in Tuesday, and thoughts on empty calories

I'll get right to the point this morning: this week, I'm down another pound and a half. 298!  The farther I get from 300, the more confident I feel about staying away from it forever.

Last week's therapy session was very insightful.  My therapist always helps me see things more clearly, even if they're things I've just said out loud.  It's funny how saying things out loud doesn't necessarily mean that it sinks in.  I was telling her how strangely terrifying it is to not know how you look at a lower weight.  The last time I was less than 300, it was in college.  I was 12 years younger (and those 12 years are kind of a big deal; faces change a lot from 20 to 32.)  From here on, as I lose weight, I'm going to start not recognizing myself.  My therapist connected that fear with my plateau (and with the binge after weigh-in that I wrote about last week.)  My subconscious is having trouble dealing with the fact that there's a lot of change going on with my body.  So I'm doing some visualization exercises, and hopefully we'll shake that subconscious into acceptance.

The survey I posted yesterday (which is still open if you'd like to participate) has been very helpful.  It's sometimes hard to peg what kinds of blog entries (or themes) are most compelling to my readers, and it's very helpful to hear what works and what doesn't. 

I did get one answer about improving the blog that made me stop and think. And think. And think. And if there's that much thinking, it must be something important.  This reader - a friend or family member who knows me from Facebook - would change this about my blog:


"Less about sweet things-- reading about sugar and other empty calories makes me anxious."

I was surprised by the answer, and my knee-jerk response was: "What empty calories?"  I work very hard on keeping all things in moderation.  It's true that if I eat emotionally, it's primarily sugar that I'm craving.  But even those times when I eat an unplanned food, I'm not eating a lot of it. For instance, last week's binge, which was an ice cream cone.  It's not the amount of food that makes it a binge.  It's the reasoning behind my eating.  It's the unplanned and not-mindful way I am eating.  Which, as a food addict, does happen occasionally.  And I'm working very hard to minimize it in my life.

Do I come across as eating a lot of empty calories?  I'm kind of surprised about that, because for the first time in my life, this year has seen the complete elimination of all fast food (it's been 9 months since I've so much as stepped inside one, let alone eaten at one.) 

We cook, on average, 20 out of 21 meals each week, and that one meal out is most likely at Tender Greens, where I've ordered my usual 3 ounces of seared albacore, a cup of mixed greens and either roasted veggies or a half-cup of mashed potatoes (550 or 650 calories total.)  We buy 48 servings of fresh fruit and 72 servings of fresh vegetables every week, and they're gone by the end of the week.  (that's 3 servings of fruit daily for me, and 5+ servings of vegetables.) 

With rare exception, I eat around 1400 calories daily. Yesterday's, for example, was a pretty standard day.

Breakfast: 
1 slice whole grain toast (70 calories)
Sliced nectarine
2 tb fat free ricotta (mixed with a sprinkle of cinnamon and a 1/4 teaspoon of sugar-free almond syrup) (25 calories)
1/4 tsp honey (6 calories)
1 boiled egg (70 calories)

Lunch: 
4 ounces of grilled ground turkey (160 calories)
2 slices of light whole wheat (80 calories)
1 tsp lowfat vegenaise (15 calories)
1 laughing cow cheese wedge (30 calories)
3 pickle slices (negligible calories) 
1 cup of baked yam (177 calories)
1 tb of homemade blue cheese aioli (30 calories)

Afternoon snack:
1 plum (30 calories)

Dinner:
1 cup baked spaghetti squash with 1/2 slice turkey bacon, tsp Parmesan, and 1/4 of an egg (94 calories)
1 cup roasted veggies with tsp balsamic & a spritz of Pam (110 calories)
1/2 cup white beans with sage and garlic & a 1/2 tsp olive oil (134 calories)

Beverages:
64 ounces of water (0 calories)
8 ounces of stevia-sweetened Virgil's (0 calories)
8 ounces of skim milk (70 calories)

Where do the empty calories fit in?  You could say the cheese is "empty," but it fits into my scheduled fats, and I'm still getting the majority of my necessary fat intake from unsaturated sources (olive oil, vegenaise.)  And honestly, regular small servings of things like cheese keep me from seeking large servings of things like cheese.

Nevertheless, the survey answer stung.  So it must be touching a nerve.  I went back to my recipes, to catalogue them, to see if I posted a lot of recipes for sweet things.  Here's the most recent two pages of recipes, going back to late June:

Savory
Rosemary Quinoa
Curried Chickpea Salad
Broccoli Slaw
Blue Cheese Aioli
Southwestern Popcorn
Roasted Zucchini
Heirloom Tomato & Egg Sandwich
Ginger Noodle Stir-Fry
Stuffed Squash Blossoms

Sweet
Cinnamon-Sugar Popcorn
Zucchini-Blueberry Mini Muffins
Figs with Goat Cheese
Key Lime Mini Tarts
Diet Butterbeer
Whole Wheat Pancakes with Fruit Compote

So, yeah.  OK.  They're right.  There are several sweet recipes.  Though most are low-calorie, and most are sweetened with fruit.  Still, it proves that I do include a bunch of sweet recipes.  Too much for one of my readers.  How about you?  Would you prefer to see less sweet?  Are you worried about my empty calories?  Would you prefer, for instance, when I post the recipes for the most recent Supper Club 600, that I skip the 50-calorie tiramisu recipe?

I'm torn.  Part of me wants to listen and take heed.  There were times in the past where I didn't want to hear people's thoughts on my dietary intake, and it wasn't for the best.  But part of me... knows exactly what I eat, why I eat, and how hard I'm working on what I eat.  And that part of me just wants to say, "FORGET YOU*, I'm taking care of me, and you don't get a say in how that's done."

Because it is being done. 

Take care of you today.  You're the only one who gets to do it.


*Cee-Lo Green radio-edited for politeness.

I'm full.

This week has been a little bit taxing for me.

For one thing, the weather has been gross in Los Angeles.  Right at this moment, it is 93 degrees.  Tuesday the high was 98.  Yesterday, 96.  Thank heavens it's going to cool off next week, because I don't think I can handle another heat wave this year.  It makes Slimmons feel like a sauna, and I get nauseous after working out.  It makes our air conditioner cry.  Literally. The condensation is dripping all over our bathroom floor. (Yes, that's where our central AC unit is.  No, I don't know why they put it there!)  It makes me weary and cranky.

I am full up on weather.

For another thing, I seem to have lost my mojo.  I usually have such fire and passion for whatever I'm working on.  This week, I got nothin'.  I managed to clean and launder in preparation for Dad's visit, and surely, that is an undertaking when the weather is gross and your laundry is backlogged and your cat has been having accidents.  But Supper Club is two days away, and I am way behind on preparation... and yet, I can't seem to light that fire under my rump.  (It probably doesn't help that it's roasting.)  Since I'm a freelancer, I am solely responsible for my fiery rump.  Nobody else is going to light it for me.

But I'm full up on self-motivation.

Last, but not least, I am full up on food.  I don't know what it was... whether my dip below 300 pounds is somehow threatening to my subconscious status-quo... whether I was feeling drained because of the heat, and thus more emotional... or whether it was just my addiction rearing up.  But twice this week, I overate.  And I somehow did it both knowingly and unthinkingly. 

This summer, Tom and I discovered (and fell in love with) Louis CK's show, Louie, on FX.  It's not for everybody, but it's definitely for us.  After we streamed the first season on Netflix, we wanted to catch up on his various stand-up specials.  So last night we watched part of Chewed Up.

Louis is overweight, and he tells stories about his experience that are honest and side-splittingly funny.  And if you have behavioral eating problems, those stories are also painful and very, very familiar.

I'm going to embed audio of the special below... but it's definitely Not Safe For Work, and also Not Safe For Delicate Ears.  If your ears are tender, you should probably skip listening.



The line that really pierced me was:

"And [my doctor] is trying to get a handle on my eating habits. He's like, 'Dude, OK, look. How soon into a meal do you typically feel full and stop eating?'  I'm like, 'I don't stop eating when I'm full. The meal is not over when I'm full.  The meal is over when I hate myself.  That's when I stop.'"

Yep.  I've been there.  I was there not once, but twice this week.  That, my friends, is not taking care of myself.  That is leaning on my addiction as a way to punish myself.

And I am full up on punishing myself.

So how do I stop it?  I have been very good about mindful eating, and stopping at 'full' all year, so I have a pretty good routine established.  I wake up and follow that routine, and it's usually not a problem.  I'll never be a perfect.. anything.  Let alone a perfect eater.  But I want to be sure that taking care of me is always the priority.

It's been a few days since that last binge, and I haven't made a misstep since.  There's another misstep waiting in my future, but my goal is to talk it out as soon as I feel it coming on.  Calling Tom or another one of my supportive loved ones always helps me to sort out whatever emotion I'm trying to numb.  And if I'm not successful? Well, I'll be honest about it with all of you, and I'll do my best to remember not only that every day is a new day, but that every moment is a new moment.  No need to wait for tomorrow if you make one mistake today.

So I'll take care of me... and you take care of you... and we'll keep doing the best we can.

Weigh-in Tuesday thoughts on honesty

I'm still behind. And I want to get this post out of the way because I have a post that I'm genuinely excited about to write today.  This post... I don't want to write it.  But I'm going to write it.  Because one of the most important parts of my journey to better health can be described with one VERY important word:

HONESTY.

Without honesty, I might still be secretly eating.

Without honesty, I don't have to remind myself where I've been, where I want to go, and where I am on that path.

Without honesty, I could be choosing to subconsciously punish my mistakes with more mistakes.

Without honesty, others who are on their own journeys would get a flawed picture of what it's like for me to be on mine.

Without honesty, I would break the trust between myself and my loved ones.  Myself and my readers.  Myself and MYSELF.

Without honesty, I could continue on a path of not taking care of myself, because I'd be duping myself - and others - that I was.

But you know what?  I don't WANT to be on a path of not taking care of myself.

Let's get rid of the double-negatives in that sentence.

I WANT TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF.

And nothing... no stress, no projects, no passion, no work, no people, no emotion, no NOTHING... is going to get in the way of taking care of myself.

So here is the truth.  Here is my honesty.

I work really hard to lose weight.  Really, really hard.

This week, I didn't work hard enough.  I gained 3 pounds.  I did so by letting myself get wrapped up in a project I loved, and putting that project before myself.  I did so by being mindless about food.  I did not take the time to follow my plan or get to the gym or track what I ate.  And later, I let myself get down and stressed, and leaned on my addiction to get through it.

And that's not OK.

I'm having a hard time not beating myself up about it.  But that usually leads to the whole subconsciously-punishing-mistakes-with-other-mistakes thing I wrote about above.  So, instead, I'm just being honest.  And I'm picking myself up, dusting myself off, and keeping on this life-long journey of taking care of me.  I have plans, checks-and-balances, in place to help me as I work through this.  And I know I can do this.  I am fighting for me.

Weigh-in Tuesday... am I worth it?

I wasn't that surprised when I hopped on the scale this week and found myself up a pound.  I logged 5 solid workouts last week, and I ate really well as inspired by the market food I blogged about.  But all the good action and healthy moderation at mealtime... does NOT mean I get to indulge in desserts in between meals all weekend.

Oh, it didn't seem so bad at first.

At Tender Greens: "That rustic plum tart is made with wholesome, real ingredients. And we're celebrating Tom's new job! That's OK."

But it went on from there.

At Brite Spot: "We never come here anymore. I ate a healthy, mindful meal. And I'm avoiding the banana cream pie. It's OK to share a banana cupcake."

At a friend's birthday party: "It's her birthday. I'm not going to not eat birthday cake. And that's... ok, right?"

And then it got worse.

At a stitch-n-bitch: "Well, geez. Cream pie is haunting me. It's here. It looks good. I'll have a small slice."

Yesterday while running errands: "Oh, screw it. I've already messed up my weekly weigh-in. And Tom is not here and I'm tired and I'm hungry and I'm right outside Yummy Cupcakes. Might as well have one."

The truth is that each dessert would have fit into my plan... if I'd chosen one of them.  I should've just planned for birthday cake at the party. Or had the tart and passed on everything else.  But I didn't.

It's not the end of the world, and I'm not going to flagellate myself for overindulging.  I'm just going to take it easy on refined sugar, and work on the one response from the list above that worries the most: "Oh, screw it. I've already messed up my weekly weigh-in."

I'm going to repeat what I've said here before, for my own benefit: my healthy choices do not revolve around my weekly weigh-in. And this is, in part, why.  I don't ever want my weigh-in to be an excuse to penalize myself.  If my eating isn't perfectly balanced, I should not (and do not want to) binge as punishment.  Nor do I want to eat healthfully as punishment.  I want to eat healthfully because it makes me feel good, it helps my body feel stronger and move better. I want to eat healthfully because it makes my life better.  I want to eat healthfully because I am worth it.

So. Today I'm going to list 6 reasons I'm worth it, to help encourage me on my way.

1. I am worth it because I've come so far.
   Already in the past seven months, I've seen how taking care of my body, my mind and my spirit has led to incredible growth, physical strength, mental focus, and not least of all, happiness. I have proven to myself that this process can be filled with joy.  And it's OK for me to feel that joy.
   
2. I am worth it because I have so far to go.
   That incredible growth still has room for further - even exponential - growth.  I have lost 65 (well, 64 again as of today) pounds and yet I am still morbidly obese. Am I healthier than I've ever been? Damn straight.  Can I become healthier, more centered, stronger? Damn straight.  It's feasible.  I am capable of it.  And I want to pursue the lifelong progress of improved health.
   
3. I am worth it because I'm a good friend, a good sister, a good daughter, a good wife.
   As a compassionate person, my loved ones matter deeply to me. The way I treat my loved ones matters to me.  I want to be the best friend, sister, daughter, wife... that I can possibly be.  And the best way I can do that is to keep myself strong and healthy.  I want to be there for them.
   
4. I am worth it because I want to be a good mother someday. 
   Right now, I'm not ready yet - physically or mentally.  Before my body (may) let me be a mother, I need to physically prepare - through continual healthy progress.  And before my brain will let me be a mother, I need to mentally prepare.  I do not want to be a parent who continues the cycle of disordered eating.  I want to teach my child the joys of healthy food in moderation - and I can't do that while I'm still learning. 
   
5. I am worth it because I have stories to tell.  I have lots of stories to tell.  I have true stories to tell, here on the blog.  I have food stories to tell, through Supper Club 600.  And when it comes to fictional stories, Tom and I share a book of 130 plot ideas we've developed, for stories to tell through film, television, and novels.  I want to tell these stories, and keep telling them, for as long as I can.  And in order to do that... I need to take good care of myself.
   
6. I am worth it because I believe everyone is worth it.
   Each of us deserves happiness.  And I know we can work together to support our journeys to success.  I believe in everyone's capacity for growth - especially when hard work backs up that growth.  And I have to remind myself that I can't believe in everyone having worth... without acknowledging my own worth.  I am worth this.  So are you.

That's it for today.  Thanks for being here, even when I'm not on track full-force.  I'm an addict - to a substance that I need in order to survive - so I'll have to deal with roller coasters my whole life.  The key is to realize that I'm on that coaster, and get off as soon as I do.  So today, I'm standing outside the roller coaster photo booth, missing the sugar air-time, but feeling kind of glad to have my feet on the ground.  I'm taking care of me.  I hope you'll take care of you, too.

Zen-Makin' Sunday (a prequel to Friend-Makin' Monday)

Recently I've felt like a bit like I'm Fozzie Bear, standing onstage amidst an onslaught of rotten tomatoes.

Which is, to say, not so swell.

  

But I received some excellent advice on Thursday - to rest.  I think there's been so much going on that I have felt more and more stretched, less and less centered.  Certainly less present.  So I heeded that advice, and made sure that did things that were restful.

This is not to say that I sat around on the couch.  In fact, I did very little of that.  Rest doesn't have to involve inactivity.  It's almost more of a mindset than an action.   It may actually be more about what I didn't do, than what I did do.  I call this "zen-gathering."

I did not...

• ... stress about work or budgets.
• ... try to numb myself with food (and I'm proud to say that throughout all of the emotions or stress I've gone through lately, I have been able to keep myself from eating emotionally.)
• ... talk about myself negatively, even once, all day Sunday.  I've been a wellspring of negative self-talk lately, and that's unusual for me. I made a conscious decision to nip it in the bud, and as a result, Sunday felt so much more happy and balanced.

 
I did...

• ... work out, very hard.  That made 6 for 7 days this week (with one planned rest day) - which is my best record since surgery.  Saturday's workout was at Slimmons as usual - though it was particularly fun for us since it was movie-music themed.  Richard came dressed as Frank-N- Furter, and I couldn't resist waiting in line for a picture afterward.

If this picture had audio, you'd know that "Singin' in the Rain" was playing as Patty took it.

• ... see a movie.  We're still riding on our stored-up Arclight points, so we got to see Cowboys & Aliens for free.  I won't spoil it for anyone, but I will say that I felt modestly positive about it, and that Daniel Craig sure packs a punch.
• ... collaborate with Tom to plan out our food and work schedule for the week.
• ... spend some chill, relaxing time with friends.  As I grow older, I seem to be less of an extrovert, in the sense that I get more energy out of time alone (and with Tom) than I do from time spent with others.  But mellow time with people I enjoy always reminds me that just because I'm more introverted than I used to be, it doesn't mean I'm not an extrovert.
• ... go on our weekly food shopping trip, including Super King, Trader Joe's, and our farmer's market, which is just beginning to hit prime harvest season.

That trip to the farmer's market - along with the nix on negative self-talk - might've been the turning point for me.  I was consistently grouchy for over a week, but that all changed when I sat down at the Farmer's Kitchen, a farm-to-table restaurant run by the market.  While we waited for breakfast to arrive, Tom and I shared a four-ounce cup of nearby Carmela Ice Cream's new flavor, Lemon & Olive Oil.

I know, I know. Ice cream for breakfast. Isn't that unhealthy? Could that be emotional eating?

Well, it would be unhealthy if it was a large serving, but it was a tiny serving.  It would be unhealthy if it were full of fillers and candy and crap, but it was organic, with natural ingredients made by an artisan company.  It would be emotional eating if I were not otherwise addressing the emotions I've been feeling, but I have been working very hard on that.  Or if I wasn't hungry (I was), if it triggered a binge (it didn't) or if I wasn't mindful.  And I was extremely mindful.

In fact, it was a very sensory experience.  I closed my eyes and let the tangy flavors linger on my tongue.  I thought about the ingredients, about the way they work together, and how it could inform my own cooking.  I talked about those ideas with Tom.  It was as mindful an experience with food as any I've had. Although though there were only a few spoonfuls of the ice cream, focusing on it mindfully made it infinitely more satisfying than any large bowl of low-quality junk food would have been.  Better than any gourmet meal that I didn't pay attention to.

That experience led to the next... and the next.  I reflected as I enjoyed my Farmer's Kitchen egg-and-squash-blossom scramble with sauteed fresh greens.  That mindfulness inspired a few of the beautiful fresh market purchases we made, which will in turn inspire some upcoming posts for Finishing the Hat.  It's surprising just how much one little thing - like a small but savored indulgence - can inspire and snowball into more and more mindfulness and creativity.... whereas mindless emotional eating can snowball into binges or other unhealthy behavior.

Do you pay attention to your meals?  Or do you multi-task, do you have to read or watch or talk while you eat?  You might consider taking some time to really think about and savor your food.  It's surprising how vibrant a meal can be when it's the center of your attention.  Take care of you today, and give it a try!

And, finally... Friend Makin' Monday: the Girly Edition! I actually helped contribute to the questions this week.

1) Do you like to shop?
I do. I find it creatively stimulating. I love looking at product design, I love discovering things I've never seen before, or new ways at looking at things. All of these things can be done at a well-curated museum... but just as easily done at a well-curated boutique. I do far more window-shopping than purchasing, and I find it just as enjoyable.

2) How often do you wear makeup?
It seems that my answer is directly correlated to how long I've known people.  If I'm comfortable with you, I'm probably not wearing much makeup, or any at all.  If I know I'm meeting you for the first time, you can bet I'm wearing some makeup (albeit natural-looking.)  I think it's a confidence thing.

3) How do you feel about nail polish?
I can't keep it on my fingernails - I'm a peeler.  So I buff the fingers and (sometimes) paint the toes (if I'm pampering myself.)

4) Do you consider yourself a feminist?
At this point in time, I think it's kind of odd that anyone would not think of themselves as a feminist. Really, at the core, feminism is about equal rights and respect for women.  Every man and woman should want that.

5) What's your biggest challenge as a woman?
I've seen gender prejudice in action in the workplace.  Heck, do you see how few women work as directors, as compared to men?  I'm not sure how you solve that problem... but I'm going to keep doing my best, and hope that people will see it.

6) Do you wear skirts and dresses? Or do you prefer something else?
I love skirts and dresses, because I think they're cute, and I generally find them more comfortable than anything else.  (Full disclosure: I'm probably wearing bike shorts underneath, which is the key to that comfort.)

7) How do you feel about high heels?
I have never, ever, EVER felt comfortable in them. Maybe it's my weight. Maybe it's just me. But give me a cute pair of strappy sandal wedges or ballet flats, and I'm happy. 

8) Do you subscribe to magazines?
Boy, howdy.  My favorite is Real Simple, though I also subscribe to Health. As a treat, I sometimes buy myself a copy of Martha Stewart Living, or her health offshoot, Whole Living.  On a plane I almost always read Entertainment Weekly.  I realized recently that if you combined all of the magazines and blogs I read, the collective mission statement would read:  "Let's host a freakin' gorgeous - yet tasty and healthy- dinner party.  And then watch a movie afterward."  Is there any wonder I came up with Supper Club 600? 

9) Do you shave your legs/wax/use depilatory/go au naturale?
I'd like to say that I shave regularly. Really, I would.  Semi-regularly is probably more like it. (Sorry about that, friends at Slimmons.  I have a husband who just doesn't care about absence or presence of leg hair.)

10) What is your favorite thing about being a woman?
I love that I can embrace my femininity, and be strong... and that in this culture, at this time, those two things don't have to be contradictory.

Friend Makin' Monday, sans unicorns and rainbows

It's a brand new day.  It's a brand new week.  And I'm still here.

It was a bit of a frenetic weekend.  Lots of cooking and prep for SC600 - which I managed not to photograph even once.  That works out OK, though, because we'll be doing a second SC600: BBQ Edition soon, and I'm really looking forward to it.  Sunday brought major exhaustion - including a brief nap that accidentally turned into a three-hour-nap.  It also brought with it some major food addiction struggles.  I was feeling emotional, and experiencing 2 or 3 out of the 4 "HALT" conditions that can lead to relapse.  I fought food cravings all day, and managed to avoid indulging by talking through my emotions, resting, and seeking out healthy food.  (Even when hungry while out late, I managed to order a turkey burger instead of something much worse.)  I did, however, eat a brownie.  I ate it mindfully, just the single-serving I bought.  I felt sated and no longer felt the need to cram every kind of everything down my gullet.  As I said to Tom earlier in the day - that craving had nothing to do with food.  It had to do with wanting not to feel emotion.

But I'm still here.  And do you know why?  The answer also happens to be the answer for today's Friend Makin' Monday question.

Was there a defining moment in which you realized that you needed to lose weight? 

Yes.  There was.  And it isn't pretty, so if you're looking for rainbows and unicorns, maybe it's best you move along to LisaFrank.com.

My defining moment was actually a defining month. May, 2009.  It was the month my mother died.

Mom suffered from an auto-immune disease called ITP - which is a complicated condition, but boils down to her immune system consuming her blood cells, which made her bleed internally unless she took steroids.  Which she did for the duration of the disease.  Which lasted for twelve years before she passed away.  Most people gain weight from a couple of days on steroids.  Can you imagine taking them for twelve years?  Unfortunately, I can, because I saw it happen.  Along with the fatigue from the disease, it caused a vibrant, warm, spitfire of a woman to disappear before my eyes.

Before all of this went down, Mom had issues with behavioral eating (which I've discussed earlier and elsewhere) - and was already morbidly obese. But everything was compounded by the steriods, not to mention being exhausted and having her joints slowly destroyed. Which led to weight gain. Which led to more exhaustion, worse joints, more weight gain, more exhaustion, worse joints, more weight gain.  An infinite cycle of it.

There were years of slowly slipping mobility.  Of my dad doing all of the housework and caring for her 24/7. There were walkers, wheelchairs, electric wheelchairs, vans with elevators, chairs with mechanisms to lift her out.  And after her fall at the end of April 2009, in the retirement home where she was so miserable, there was even a mechanical sling that lifted her from the bed to the toilet on wheels.  She couldn't move herself at all anymore.  This is when I left Los Angeles to spend what I thought would be a week in my hometown, cheering her up.

But within five days at the retirement home, she'd contracted a blood infection from the pressure sores.  Her weight pushed so hard against the surface of the bed that it wounded her.  And because of her diabetes, healing would be impossible.  She spent the rest of that month in the hospital, and I stayed for all of it.

Soon there was an around-the-clock air pressure mask, for lungs weighted down so that not enough oxygen got to them.  Significant mental confusion followed, including an extended period of hallucination that my father and I were working with the mob to have her killed. (Which sounds funny now, but was heartbreaking then.)  And eventually, there was the discovery of her congestive heart failure.  There were a few precious days of lucidity as we all said our goodbyes.  And then there was coma.

And then, there's the day I don't talk about much, or think about much, for that matter.  The morning she woke up from the coma.  They were flipping her over to try to clean her rotting wounds, when she woke up screaming from the pain.  She didn't stop, or fall asleep again, until they administered the dose of morphine that allowed her to relax long enough to die that afternoon.  And we were all there with her, horrified, watching her suffer, and then watching her slip away.

I do my best to remember my mother as she was before all of this. A force of life to be reckoned with.  Quickest with a joke - with the least appropriate joke for the occasion, in fact.  Passionate about family, about celebrating, about understanding and communicating with her loved ones.  And those memories make me happy.

But the memory of her dying?  I have to return to it now and again.  It keeps me on my weight loss journey.  Because although it was an auto-immune disease that compounded her health, it was her weight that made that disease so much more difficult to bear.  Someday, somehow, I will die, too.  And when I do, I do not want my weight to make that experience worse than it needs to be.

__


Thank you for being here with me today, everyone.  This isn't an easy story to share.  I work so hard to make my journey to better health one that is filled with joy.  I firmly believe that one can find so much to love and live for while one is losing weight, even within that very process.  And I promise that I will continue to share my discoveries about the joy of healthy living here, day by day.  But some days, I have to remember what set me on this path.  I just wish my Mom didn't have to die for it to happen.

Please.   Please take care of you.  And tell your loved ones how much they mean to you.

Weigh-in Tuesday, with a post-op update, and a plateau revelation

It's nice to be upright again!  I'm almost finished with the no-exercise post-surgery ruling, and I can't wait to get back to my usual sweatin' self.  It's interesting... before this year, I would have in no way considered regular exercise to be "myself."  But now, going a full week without activity has meant that I've gone a little cabin-feverish inside my body. 

Also a little cabin-feverish inside my cabin! Er, condo. I've been out twice in the last week, and that is simply not enough! I must be getting acclimated to all this regulated weekly adventure that I've been doing for the blog.  I am positively itchy to do, like, five things on my list of future Adventure Wednesdays... all in a row.  But my body's not quite up to that yet.

The surgery itself went well. I'd never been under general anesthesia before, and I was a bit anxious beforehand.  But anecdotes from friends helped me relax, and the medical staff was very helpful at the hospital.  As they put the mask on me, the sweet Latino male nurse said "drift off to a tropical island." And then the dashing French anesthesiologist said "screw the island, go to Paris!" That's the last thing I remember.  Recovery has been OK - I had more problems with the painkiller side effects than anything else.  How anyone can use Vicodin recreationally... it's beyond me!

Food during recovery proved a big challenge.  I take responsibility for my own choices, but I think that it was harder to make good choices while: A - in pain.  You know my reaction to strong emotion? It's the same as my reaction to strong pain.  B - under painkillers.  It's a bit like making decisions while under the influence of alcohol... harder to stick to what you'd usually choose.  Part of the reason why I don't drink often or to excess.  And C - having gone almost 24 hours without eating.  The old addiction adage, "HALT," exists for a reason.  And it's tough to make good choices about food when you're incredibly hungry.  But after a few days of completely mindless eating (not, to say, horrible food - just not thinking through choices) my body spoke louder than my addiction, and it was back to business as usual.  When you're off your schedule, out of your norm, it's a challenge to make the decision to eat well.  But once you make the decision, the eating well is... cake!  (Heh. Weird use of that expression.  I really mean, eating well isn't so difficult.)

After all of this not-mindfulness and can't-exerciseness, I wasn't surprised to see that my weight hasn't budged from last week.  I seem to officially be on a plateau.  And it's not just this week.  This whole month has been a slowdown.  And after some thoughtful consideration... I think I might know why.  It's not that I had surgery - although that surely affected things.  It's not that I haven't been as careful with logging my calories or exercising as much - though both are true, they are just symptoms.

It's that I'm scared.

I know, I know, that sounds crazy.  The last six months have changed my life.  I'm stronger, more active, capable of doing much more, and addressing disordered eating behavior.  Nothing but good has come from taking care of myself.

But I've reached a weight range that is my lowest since graduating college ten years ago.  Very few of the people active in my life (basically just my family and my childhood friends) have seen me much thinner than I am right now. I was always overweight, but around the time I graduated from college, I put on a lot of weight in reaction to a few challenges I faced.  I'm beginning to think it was "protection" weight - a barrier between me and those challenges.

So I'm going to have a little conversation with myself... it's going to be kind of obvious, but bear with me.  I think my subconscious needs to hear it.

Self.  Hey, self.  You have been kicking so much ass.  I'm so proud of you.  But I'm noticing that you're slowing down a little... and I don't think you consciously mean to do it.  So I want you to hear a few things.


One.  The people who love you, love you regardless of your size.  So what if some of them have never known you to be smaller than you are?  You aren't a different person.  They will not love you any more if you weigh less (and will not prove what you might secretly fear: that you're less loveable if you weigh more.)  They will not love you any less if you weigh less.  You are you, and they love you.  And you love you, so for heaven's sake, take care of you.


Two.  The struggles and challenges you faced so long ago?  They're long-past.  You've long-succeeded.  And you have the wisdom and strength gained from those experiences that will help you prevent them in the future.  No weight separates you from that wisdom and strength.  No weight can protect you from future struggles and challenges.  But you know what weight can do?  Prevent you from fully-realized health.  

Perhaps, together, we can look at these next weeks and pounds as the release of any toxicity that you still hold.  As we let go of 300, we can let go of the past, live in the present, and work toward the future.  Because you are worth it, self.  You are absolutely worth it.

OK.  That's it for today.  I'll be back tomorrow with a new adventure... and today, I'll take care of myself the best ways I can.  I hope you'll take care of you, too.

Weigh-In Tuesday... with a tale of three whoops-es.

It's a "whoops" weigh-in today for a couple of reasons. 

Whoops #1: yesterday was the fourth of July.  I ate healthfully and well all day, until we went to our party.  It was kind of a perfect storm for me.

• I was missing my family. My programming says "eat, eat, eat when you're lonely."
• I was surrounded by delicious food.   My programming says "eat, eat, eat when there's food in front of you."
• It was a holiday AND a party.  My programming says "eat, eat, eat at parties and on holidays."  
• I was getting anxious about my surgery (which was finally scheduled, and then recently moved forward to TOMORROW.)  And my programming says "eat, eat, eat, when you're emotional."
• And I forgot to eat dinner before going to the party.  For me, the healthy meal beforehand is the biggest preventative for bad party eating.

So, yeah, I ate at the party.  Not terribly, I just ate about 600 calories more than I usually do.  (Which takes me to the perfectly-acceptable-for-maintenance 2000 total.)  I enjoyed the food I ate, so I'm not upset or regretful about the party eating - I'm just being open about the challenges I face when my behavioral issues rear their ugly heads.

Whoops #2:  after the lovely party that I enjoyed thoroughly, I started to get even more anxious about my surgery. And I couldn't fall asleep.  And after being up so late, I found myself... feeling hungry again.  I fall asleep early so late-night eating isn't usually a problem for me.   In this situation, if I was struggling with making a healthier choice, I should have woken up one of the very supportive resources who were sleeping upstairs.  Tom and Rena have been and continue to be great companions on my journey to good health and balance, and I am sure that neither of them would have been upset to wake up and help me talk through it.  But, I didn't.  I ate an ounce of turkey and a Laughing Cow wedge, and drank a couple ounces of milk.  Not the least healthy choices, but not anything my body actually needed.  And eating late at night affects the scale in the morning more than eating that same food earlier in the day.

Whoops #3: before I could weigh in today, I ate breakfast.  I didn't do this to consciously sabotage my weigh-in this morning... but I wouldn't put it past my subconscious mind.  I always weigh in the exact same way each Tuesday: after restroom, before breakfast.  It's the easiest way to get a clear picture of my actual progress week to week (not affected by whatever I have or haven't passed, what I have or haven't eaten.)  Now that window for today has slipped, by so whatever I weigh, it's going to be heavier than what it should be.

Regardless of all of this information, the bottom line here is that I have or need no excuses for my weigh-in today; it is what it is, and I take responsibility for it.  I'm currently up by 2 pounds from last week. 

It'll be a weird weigh-in next week, too.  Surgery tomorrow, followed by no exercise for a week.  I'm going to work with Tom and Richard to lower my calorie count a little to help accommodate for the lack of exercise, but I don't want to stress about it.  I want to be kind to my body and take care of myself, physically and emotionally.  And if I do that, I don't need to worry about numbers - good health will follow, and that is what matters most.

Thanks to my three closest blogger pals, this will actually be my last post for the week.  Alexa, David and Kenlie will be visiting Finishing the Hat with guest posts for Wednesday, Thursday and Friday respectively.  I'm so excited for you to hear more from them, and hopefully for you to check out their lovely blogs too.  And I'm grateful to have all three of them in my life.  I hope you will show them some love while they're visiting!

I'm going to go and have a mindful day, gathering some zen and taking care of me.  And while I'm gone this week... please, take care of you, too.  I'll be back soon!

Suck it, Yoda.

It's Tuesday, which usually means a trip to the scale and a weigh-in report here.  But since I've been flu-y, I don't want that number to be artificially low.  So I'm skipping the weigh-in this week and hopefully once my body is more recovered next week, the number won't be out of whack either.

During Tom's fever-induced naptime this weekend, I happened to stumble upon a Star Wars marathon on TV.  So I listened to The Empire Strikes Back while doing some photo editing.  And as Yoda schooled an impatient Luke on Dagobah, I found myself getting pretty pissed off.

Let's be clear.  I love Star Wars - and have ever since my brother introduced them to me one at a time, on his trips home from college.  And boy howdy did I respond.  I was a pretty nerdy kid.  For my eleventh birthday, my hair was done up in the Return of the Jedi double braid crown.  The first essay I ever typed on a computer (around the same time) began with "I know everything there is to know about X-Wing Flyers." Yoda is my favorite character, other than my schoolgirl crush on Luke. (Don't be surprised that it's not Han. I also prefer Raoul over Erik, Riley over Spike, and young X over young Magneto. Though it's impossible not to prefer Rhett over Ashley.)

Anyway... as I listened to Yoda's fatalistic platitudes on Sunday, I found myself thinking he was full of crap.

Wrong, you are.  Full of the force, am I.  Filled with crap, I am not.

Wrong again, Yoda.

Here's the thing.  You ask Luke to lift a whole ship out of a mud-laden swamp with just his mind.  You say...

"Do or do not.  There is no try."

It has, in fact, become one of the most popular quotes to come from the movie. (Next to... that one.  You know the one.  "Scruffy-looking nerf herder.")  And, like Yoda, it is full of crap.

Now, I'm not saying Luke can't do it.  You and I both know he can.  But Luke needs practice.  And what's another way to say that?  He's trying.

My first day working out at Slimmons - my first minute, actually - I was struggling.  The aerobics was kicking my ass, and I wasn't sure I was going to make it through all 90 minutes.  And, in fact, I didn't.  Within 20 minutes, my heart was pounding so hard that I felt nauseous.  I had to do the rest of the workout sitting.  I was humiliated.  The road ahead of me seemed not just challenging but completely impossible.

But Richard, and the kind people at Slimmons, encouraged me.  So I came back to the next class, and I sat down before I felt nauseous.  I kept attending.  The more I worked, the longer I could make it before needing to sit down.  And within a month, I made it through all 90 minutes.

On the journey to better health, you'll face all kinds of challenges.  You won't be able to do everything you want to do, right away, so try to be patient with yourself.  Sometimes you'll be your own challenge, and a food choice or a missed workout you regret will make you want to throw it all away - because you've been told all your life that you're supposed to be perfect.

Well, no one is perfect.  And all we can do is take that regret and transform it to wisdom.  NO DAY is a lost day, if you don't let it be lost.  If you missed your workout after work, can you talk a walk with your family after dinner?  If you overate at lunch, try thinking about it, talking about it, and letting it go.

There's too much pressure on us (from ourselves, mostly) to perform perfectly at everything from moment one.  The ensuing shame and fear will only make it that much harder to try and keep trying.  Remind yourself that you're not perfect, and then take a moment to be mindful.  You don't have to wait until tomorrow.  You don't have to wait at all.  Every minute is a new minute for you to take care of yourself.  And taking care of yourself takes practice.

You say "there is no try"?  Well, suck it, Yoda.  I say...

Try or try not.  But there is no do without try.

It's Weigh-In Tuesday, and I am not ashamed.

This weekend, I admitted to the lovely Alexa (from The Curvy Nerd) that for the last week or so, I'd been feeling kind of disconnected from talking about the weight loss here at Finishing the Hat.  We both have similar feelings about acceptance and shame when it comes to food: when we make choices that aren't ideal, the last thing we should be doing is flagellating ourselves.

When I am hard on myself for my choices, I find myself wanting to self-medicate (or punish) with more food, not less.  When I own what I eat, when I refuse shame, then it's not hard for me to see the very next choice as an opportunity to nourish instead of punish.  For me, shame leads to disordered eating (or the temptation of disordered eating.) Acceptance leads to moderation and genuine nourishment.

I told Alexa that, following a few generally-too-caloric days last week, I decided not to talk much about it here.  That malignant voice of shame was bubbling up inside of me, using words like "bad" and "stupid," even as I was working on patience and acceptance.  So I figured I'd put some distance between me and the choices I made, in order to fully embrace acceptance and stave off the shame.  And you know what? It helped.

So today I'm sharing a few choices I struggled with recently.  I'm feeling proud that despite which challenges I bested (and which challenges bested me), I'm still making great strides.

• Over Memorial Day, we spent 24 consecutive hours at a two-day barbecue, during which I had about three drinks, three ribs, three cookies, and three chocolate/peanut butter/bacon truffles (plus a grilled sausage and a chocolate Zinger.)   I also made some nourishing choices. We brought fresh market fruit, which I enjoyed in moderation.  I snacked mostly on grilled veg and crunchy veg.  I had a slice of scrumptious veg-filled and parmesan-laced frittata.  We grilled some fruit which I enjoyed with a touch of vanilla ice cream.  Sure, we could have skipped the party or attended for a shorter time.  Sure, I could have brought my own food.  But I am not ashamed that I didn't. And I'm not ashamed about what I ate.  I had a lovely time with friends, I didn't agonize over the food, and when I found myself feeling less energetic for the few days after the party, I remembered how much I appreciate the kinds of food I typically eat, in the amounts I typically eat them. 

• At Disneyland two days after the party, I found myself surrounded again by food that was less than ideal for me.  There are healthy options available at the park, and we were able to seek them out, although my portion sizes were larger than usual.  After you've been walking around in the sun for a few hours, it's awfully hard not to eat everything on your plate.  But the real challenge for me was walking past sweet treat after sweet treat.  On our way out, we were walking through the stores to avoid the parade crowd.  Right through the candy and ice cream shops.  I stood between the two (with a foot in each as though I was at the Four Corners monument) and thought long and hard about whether I wanted to eat something.  Finally, Tom told me outright, "you don't really want this."  And I knew he was right, so I stomped out of the store, and out of the park, like I was angry at him or at the world.  I wasn't.  I was angry at my food addiction.  But over the last week, I've tried to be patient with myself about it.  So my portions were a little too big.  I struggled with making a healthy choice, and I'm not ashamed.

• In preparation for our dinner party on Saturday, I tried a new flavor for Cake Pop Quest.  I'll have the recipe for you tomorrow, but I've already told my friends that if they want this flavor again, they will have to make it.  Not because it was bad... but because it was so good, I don't think I could keep them in my house.  So far, I've had one or two of each of the pop attempts, and that's that.  But this new flavor?  As I mixed the frosting into the cake crumbs, I realized I made a little too much of it. And before I realized what I was doing, that little-too-much frosting was gone.  Yep, I ate it.  It was delicious.  And that's when I knew: coconut cake pops?  Not for me.  Too tempting to make, unless I'm able enjoy them in moderation.  And I'm not ashamed to say so.

These are the challenges, folks.  Sometimes they bite me in the ass. Sometimes I bite them in the ass.  But what matters is that every day, I commit myself to this life-long process of taking good care of myself.

And that commitment pays off.  The scale this morning?  It's down another 3.2, bringing my total to...

55 pounds lost. 

Thanks to all of you for your support.  It is much easier to do this, knowing you're here.  I hope that you'll take good care of yourselves today, and that you won't be hard on yourselves despite your mistakes.  We all make them.  And we shouldn't be ashamed.

On shame, and self-worth

One of my very favorite podcasts is KCRW's Good Food, a weekly show that runs the gamut - from what's seasonal at the farmer's market, to area restaurant reviews, to interesting features about the culture, science, and politics of food.  I was catching up on some older episodes yesterday when I came upon Slate writer Christy Harrison's account of her Hive topic.

Hive is a Slate discussion forum in which readers are invited to offer solutions to wide-ranging problems.  Harrison's topic was Childhood Obesity.  When host Evan Kleiman asked about extreme proposals, this is what Harrison reported:

"We saw quite a few responses that talked about how kids needed to be shamed into being healthier and feel stigmatized for being overweight if we were ever going to have hope to make them lose weight we needed to make them feel bad about themselves."

 I'm going to venture a guess that those responses were from people who have never struggled with disordered eating, depression, or obesity.

There's plenty of information out there about how size is not a valid indicator of health.  Take me, for instance.  Someone who doesn't know me could look at me and assume that I'm due for a heart attack.  But compare my blood pressure with, I dunno, anyone outside of a serious athlete, and mine will probably be healthier.

I don't really want to talk about my physical health, though.  I want to talk about my mental health.  I want to talk about what shame did for me.

Before I became active this year, I was filled with shame.  Every time we'd walk with friends, or we'd be invited on a hike with family, I would be humiliated that I couldn't keep up.  Or humiliated that I was puffing.  So I'd elect not to walk with them.  I'd elect not to walk at all.

Whenever anyone would comment on what I ate - "wow, that looks... filling..."  "you shouldn't be eating that cupcake..." etc.  I felt so much self-loathing.  Anger at myself, and a LOT of anger at whoever was judging me.  After all, much of the time, I ate just fine.  I maintained weight for several years, with a gradual uptick.  Some of the time I didn't eat well.  But I doubt you ever saw me.  Because I was so ashamed of it, I did it when I was alone.  And the more anyone tried to make me feel shameful about it, the more I'd eat - in private -  as a reaction.

Shame, for me, was not a motivator.  It was the anti-motivator.  It made everything that much worse.

It was not until I went to therapy, and worked on everything surrounding my disordered eating and lack of exercise, that I was able to work on that issue, too.  It wasn't until I found the Fat Acceptance community, and realized that I deserved respect no matter what I looked like, that I was ready to respect myself.  It was not until I felt worthy of taking care of myself that I was ready to make the changes in my life that have made me stronger, more nourished, more balanced.

I'm not an Oprah watcher, but I caught her last show yesterday. (I'm a sucker for finales.)  She said something that rang so very true to me:

"There's a common thread that runs through all of our pain and all of our suffering, and that is unworthiness.  Not feeling worthy enough to own the life you are created for.  ...  You're worthy because you are born and because you are here. Your being here, your being alive makes worthiness your birthright. You alone are enough."

Shaming the overweight and the obese only creates pain and suffering for them.  If you want to change others' lives, try helping them to feel worthy enough to take care of themselves, in all possible ways.

OK. I'll step down off my soapbox.  I AM curious to hear your thoughts on how to help children be healthier, though, so let me know if you have any ideas.

I'll leave you with my last food log this time around...

Wednesday, May 25 - 1392 calories

Breakfast - 1/2 cup fat free Greek yogurt, 1/2 cup rhubarb sauce, 1/2 cup honey oat cereal, 1 egg

Lunch - 1 artichoke, 1.5 tsp lemon-butter, 3 oz scallops, 1 tsp cocktail sauce, corn sandwich (1/2 cup corn, Kraft single, 2 slices low cal whole wheat), 2 apricots

Afternoon snack - 2 oz sourdough, 1 oz goat cheese

Dinner - 2 cups tomato-cucumber salad, 1 veggie burger sandwich (2 slices light whole wheat, veggie burger patty, 5 pickle chips, 1 wedge Laughing Cow, 1 tsp veganaise) 1 peach, 1/2 cup raspberries

Beverages - 32 oz water

...and then, on recommendation from Oprah to remind you how I feel about you:

"I see you.  I hear you.  And what you say matters to me." 

So take care of you - today and every day.

On veering from the path. Plus a recipe for an unexpectedly tasty strawberry salad you HAVE to try.

It's been a week of celebration, but all parties inevitably meet their cups-scattered-on-the-counter end.  So today, I'm going to talk a little bit about the track. And how I've recently... slightly... gradually... veered from it.

For me, the track isn't that narrow.  Or that hard to traverse.  If you're a regular reader, you probably even know what it looks like:

• I plan what I'm eating.  
• I stay mindful about what I'm eating.  
• I don't keep things in the house that will trigger disordered eating.
• I exercise regularly.

 Except that over the last week or so, it's looked kind of like this:

• I plan what I'm eating for two days while our guests are here, and then eat what's left over in the fridge.
• I stay mindful about procrastinate and forget to log what I'm eating.  
• I don't keep things in the house that will trigger disordered eating, but when guests bring trigger foods, I allow myself to pull that trigger.
• I exercise kind of regularly.

My intake hasn't been terrible.  I haven't eaten more than I've burned, so there's been no gain - I did just get down to 50 pounds lost.  But when I look at how far I've come, I know that being passive about my health just isn't enough for me anymore.  I feel my best when I'm mindful and even-keel about the energy I take in and the energy I put out.

I think I know, in part, what set me on this slight veer from my path.  I have surgery coming up, and the very thought of it made me feel emotional.  So many questions.  First of all, will it even work?  And how will my body handle the blood thinner switch-a-roo that they'll have to do before I can go under the knife?  I've never had surgery before, so how will I react?  How will I handle slowing down my weight loss progress because I have to sit and convalesce? 

I'm proud of the fact that my answer to these questions wasn't to eat to distract myself.  Instead, I acknowledged that there's going to be a bit of a slow-down in my progress for the short run, while I recover.  But this isn't a race.  There's not even a finish line, because it's a lifetime project.  So I wasn't going to try to lose as much weight as possible before the surgery, in an effort to make up for lost time.  I wasn't going to nudge myself over the edge into disordered undereating or overexercise, the same way that I wasn't going to slip back into disordered overeating or couch potatoism.  What was that Mr. Rogers song my parents always used to sing?*  "Be patient.  Be patient.  All good things take time."  But here's the thing: when you give yourself permission to be patient, it's not a free ticket off the path.

Nevertheless, while I've been a little freer with the calories, I'm not going to punish myself for it.  I'm just going to recommit to the path that works the best for me.  I'll be doing that by working on each of those bullet points above.

Something else that will help is to bring more fruit back into my diet.  My goal for each day is to have 3 servings of fruit - and I let that slide over the past week or so.  I've been lucky to get 2 servings on a good day.  And it's interesting to see how that affects my cravings.  It made it all the harder to resist the cookies, cheesecake and ice cream pints that were in our house.  We never buy them for ourselves so I rarely deal with the temptation. But I feel like I might have been able to say no to them if I'd been eating my regular fruit.

So... there's no better time for a salad recipe starring that beautiful berry of the straw.

Strawberry-Cucumber Salad

We came upon the concept for this dish at the Hollywood Farmer's Market last weekend, where the nutritionist on staff was offering samples of this unexpectedly brilliant combination.

Chop the cucumber and strawberries (1:1 ratio) into similar-sized pieces.
Then macerate the strawberries in 1 tsp sugar and 2 tb balsamic.

Just before serving, combine macerated berries with the cucumber and 2 tb chopped basil.
A squeeze of lemon juice is very good with this as well.

One last thing to help me back onto my path: I'm also going to go back to something that has worked for me in the past: sharing my daily intake at the end of my blog posts, every day for the next week.

By tomorrow morning, I'll have retroactively logged all of the food I didn't log yet, and at the bottom of tomorrow's Fashion Friday post, I'll include what I ate today.  Onward and upward - I'll take care of me.  And you take care of you.

*Not the one you're thinking of, dear family.  Though I will admit that I totally teared up when Dad sang "I'm Proud of You" for my 50 pound loss this week.

Friend Missin' Monday

Dear Mom,

Happy birthday. You would have turned 65 today, if you were still alive.

I just wanted to tell you how much I miss you.  How I miss our long phone calls.  How I miss your laughter.  Your way of bringing people together.  The way you understood people.

I miss the way - I'm almost embarrassed to admit it - that you spoiled me.  I'm pretty sure that every clerk in every stores where we shopped together eventually said "can you be my mom, too?"  I fought you on every purchase, because I didn't want you to blow your pin money on me.  But you spoiled everyone you knew.  Everybody but yourself.

My friend Kenz has this weekly blog post called "Friend Makin' Mondays."  Today's post inquires what celebrity you would meet, if you could.  But I wouldn't choose to have lunch with a celebrity.  I'd choose to have lunch with you, if I could.  So today is "Friend Missin' Monday," instead.

Now, don't get me wrong, Mom.  Of course I'd invite a celebrity to lunch with us. But Richard has become more of a friend now than a celebrity to me.  Do you remember using Deal-a-Meal, while I watched his TV show with you?  Do you remember sweating to the oldies together?  How in the world a five-year-old could fixate on the crazy guy on her mother's exercise video?  How did he become her imaginary friend?  I really don't know now, and I bet you didn't either, back then.  But he did.

And now, as an adult, how in the world did he become my real friend?  I would guess that if you had any say in the matter, it might have been your doing.  Because my life has changed so much for the better since I met him.  And you never told me while you were alive, but I think we both knew - I needed my life to change.  Because I didn't want to end up suffering, the way you did.

We wouldn't go out to some fancy restaurant, the three of us.  We'd sit together at my kitchen table, and I'd serve some of the food that Tom and I have been cooking lately.  I'd show you just how amazing and delicious that healthy food can be - and how wonderful it feels to enjoy it in moderation.  I'd make you beautiful fresh salads with citrus fruit and toasted almonds.  I'd serve roasted carrots with rosemary, and maybe some seared scallops.  We'd each have a cake pop in my latest flavor concoction, and it would be everything we needed for dessert.

Richard would talk to both of us about our eating, and about our exercise.  We would discuss how we got to where we are, and how we can get to where we want to be. 

In two weeks, you'll have been gone for two years. And I can't serve you that beautiful lunch today.  And Richard and I can't talk to you about getting to where you want to be.

But I can make that beautiful lunch for myself.  I can go to the pool and swim and swim and swim for as long as I can.  I can keep learning new exercises to get stronger, new flavors to savor, new ways to express myself.  I  know I can get where I want to be.

I'm spoiling myself, Mom.  I'm doing it for you.

The End of the Beginner's Guide... and Cake Pops Take 2.

I had a big post planned for today.  It's the last day of my week of Beginner's Guides, and I was planning to give you the Beginner's Guide to "Putting It Together."  (This is cute only if you're a fan of Sunday in the Park with George, which is also the origin of my blog name.)

I was going to tell you all about how you have to be patient with yourself, because not every day is going to be perfect, not every choice is going to be the healthiest, not every weigh-in will show you the numbers you're hoping for.

I was going to tell you that the most important thing in this whole process is to learn how to pick up, brush off, start again.  It can't be a built on self-punishment or self-loathing, because the second you step outside of your plan - which you will, because we're all human - you'll spend your energy flagellating yourself instead of on making the next good choice.  Each day is a new day, but even more potently, each moment is a new moment.

I was going to tell you that the best thing you can do for yourself is to love yourself, thoroughly and completely.  Knowing your flaws.  Accepting where you've been.  And believing in where you can go.  Because YOU CAN DO THIS.

But then I got a call from my doctor.  Yesterday I had received what I thought was good news.  There was a magic pill to make my current illness go away.  Today they're rethinking it, and it looks like I might have to have surgery soon.

I immediately felt blue.  I want to feel better.  I wanted that damn magic pill!  My anemia affected me so much that I could hardly make it through class last night.  It makes me feel scattered and low.  On the ride back from the pharmacy, where I had gotten the call, we passed a pie shop.  My stomach said, "oh, I should eat some pie."  And my brain responded "what the heck are you thinking? You don't even like that pie shop.  It isn't even good pie."  And my heart chimed in, "you're just feeling sad."

So I passed right on by.  And then I thought... why should I tell you all of these things I'd planned to tell you about "putting it together," when I can show you, instead?

So instead of eating pie, instead of lashing out at myself for even thinking of pie... instead of laying in bed all day trying to avoid anything... I'm going to show you how I can pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again.  I'm going to eat a healthy lunch.  I'm going to paint my toenails a shimmery coral.  I'm going to skip the last list-style edition of the Beginner's Guide.  I'm going to teach by example.

And then I'm going to show you how to make some more cake pops.  We made it this far together, and it's time to practice a little moderate indulgence.  This new recipe I've worked on, outing #2 on Cake Pop Quest 2011, is a resounding favorite, both with family (for whom I made these when I was in Indianapolis) and with friends (for whom I made these for Easter.)

They're moist, tender, and surprisingly low-calorie for something that tastes like such a treat.  And the secret, my friends, is pumpkin.

All I'm using is the Trader Joe's chocolate cake mix, 1/4 of the frosting mix
with 1/4 of the required butter, plus pumpkin. (And candy coating, but that's minimal.)

The recipes I'd found for using pumpkin as a cake binder called for
18.5 ounces of mix, and the Trader Joe's box comes in 28 oz,
so I first measured out the mix by weight.

Then I combined the mix with 15 oz of canned pumpkin (plain, not pie filling.)

It will be much gooier than the usual cake batter.
You'll have to use a spatula to get it all off your spatula - that's how thick.

Pop it into a 9x13 pan, and follow the baking time/temp directions on the box.

As always cool overnight, and then crumble it up with forks. 
Because the texture is so chewy, you'll need to to a little extra work on the corners.

Measure out 1/4 of the frosting mix, and add 1/4 of the required butter.  (This picture is of a double-batch)

Mix the frosting mix and butter together first.  It will seem clumpy, even if the butter is room temperature.

Then add 1 tb of hot water.  DO NOT ADD MORE until you see if you need it, and then only
add an extra 1/2 tb water. It's surprising how little hot water is needed to make the dry/butter mix creamy.

Then mix the frosting in with the cake crumbs.

Moosh it together until it's a thick past-like consistency.

Then use a tablespoon truffle scoop (or melon-baller) to dole out the batter and roll into balls with your hands.
Then spear each cake ball with a lollipop stick, and freeze for at least a few hours.

Alas I don't have pictures of the dipped product - but you melt the candy coating with a double-boiler, and dip each cake ball.  And here's a new tip... push the stick into dry florist's foam to dry and display.  (I totally should've taken a picture of both rounds... the first one I did as a flower garden, the second one I did as Easter eggs in a basket.  I'll learn to keep the camera with me at all times, one of these days.)

The magical part of this recipe?  They are only 100 calories a piece.  And they're far more satisfying than some little bag of 100-calorie dry cookie crumbles.  Make sure you share your batch, though!  One is a perfect serving of sweet, but don't forget your moderation.

OK.  I'm off to keep taking care of me.  You take care of you, too.