Happy Anniversary

Eight years ago today, I walked through the doors of Slimmons and started working out with Richard Simmons.  It was a hard decision to make; I wanted nothing to do with the man or the philosophy.  I certainly didn't want to face my lifestyle and the choices I made.  Instead, I blamed everything on my family, on my job, on my health issues.

Eight years is a long time, yet it seems like yesterday.  It seems like yesterday that I was that angry person who refused to interact with others, didn't have many friends, had little life.  But in those years, I made an amazing transformation into the woman I am now.  Even with my current weight travails, I am within normal bounds, I know friendship and love and the bonds of a family of my own.  Even with my health issues manifesting in new and increasingly difficult ways, I know the power not so much in believing that I will get better, but of suspending disbelief and being open to the possibility that things can profoundly change for the better, even against all odds.

There were many people who started helping me down this path before I met Richard, and many people who have helped me since I made the decision to travel this road.  To all of them, I am profoundly grateful.

To Richard, for what it is worth, I owe you so very much.  I'm never sure what my status is with you other than maybe a press release who's day has passed, but you have been, are, and will always be everything to me.

Thank you.

Exit-us

I am a frequent flier when it comes to the bathrooms at Slimmons. In all honesty, I am tied to the bathrooms wherever I go, but because of the accessibility of the Slimmons bathrooms, I'm able to participate there much more often than I would in a different venue; if I had to walk (run) a long way for them. Or wait in a line once I got there.

Richard has two bathrooms located in the back of his dressing room at Slimmons. Although recently redecorated, the predominant theme of each remains true to their former selves. Bathroom # 1 (on the left as you face them) is the more sane bathroom. That is, until you wash your hands. (You do wash your hands after going, right? Don't tell me if you don't. And never shake my hand again!) Wash your hands, dry them off with the paper towels, then use the foot lever to raise the lid of the trash can. BAM!!!! The lid of the can hits the wall! And the mirror. With my facility for breaking things, I'm sure that I'm going to either knock a hole in the wall or break the mirror before I'm done. Ergo, I don't use that bathroom.

No. I use the other one. On the right. Bathroom # 2; the "watch yourself pee" bathroom. For if you are sitting down, there is a floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of you for you to contemplate your physique. If you're of the stand-up-to-pee persuasion, don't despair. There is a thigh-high-to-ceiling mirror behind the toilet too. No matter what direction you do your business in, you get a full-length view of yourself. But because of the positioning of the toilet, the sink, and the trash can, there's little chance that I can damage anything in that particular room.

Actually, the bathroom on the right is the celebrity choice anyway. When
Richard spent the day with Jimmy Kimmel, working on Jimmy's health, that is the bathroom that Jimmy found the hamburger in.

I know. It doesn't look much like the same bathroom anymore, but it is. And every time I'm in there, I look for the speaker to order my own hamburger. I haven't found it as of yet, but that's just a matter of time...

Anyway, you're probably wondering why I wax on about bathrooms. Other than them being the most important room in my life, that is. Well, it has a lot to do with Dana. And the Exit signs.

You might recall a few weeks ago, an Exit Sign fell on Dana's head during exercise class.

A couple of weeks later, the sign was replaced, and Dana was so convinced that her string of bad luck had resolved, that she stood under a ladder. All appeared to be well for Dana. No bad luck. But then again, I wonder if bad luck can be transferred...

For tonight after the um-tee nth time going to the bathroom, I noticed it. The Exit sign leading out of the dressing room and back into the club. It was empty.

Furthermore, the skeleton in which it used to reside had a burnt out bulb!
I quickly ran back into the exercise-class-in-progress and queried Dana. Did she know about this turn of events?

She did! She was not surprised at all. And there, and then, I knew the title of today's post. Exit-us. Because I'll bet that the sign in the classroom leading to the lobby was not a new sign at all. The signs are migrating from one point to another within the club. They're taking on a life of their own. They must be Jewish and they're looking for their homeland. Amazing. They don't look Jewish. And the one that clunked Dana on the head? It must have been trying to make a connecting flight.

Well, I suggested this theory to Dana. She acted as if she was shocked. Or maybe she over-acted, that is. I think she knows that I'm on to something.

Poor Richard. It's true. Bad luck can be transferred. It's his bad luck that I not only noticed the sign, but that I can't resist posting about it.

I know funny when I see it.

Vennie's AdVenture, Day 4

Good Morning! Vennie's cooking early!!!!!
Bon Appetit!

Chicken Soup with Sweet Potato, Onion, Broccoli, Carrots, and Celery.

Vennie hugs her first man of the day. She likes them with hairy backs.

And then she found herself another lawyer. Unlike day 1, this one has a small practice. But he advertises on TV with the moniker "We are here to serve you."

Back home, and Vennie receives Ian, a Gentleman Caller.

However, Ian quickly deserted her in lieu of the dogs. Here, he's trying to teach Sunny how to use the dog stairs, aka "Stairway to Heaven."

And, unlike Laura, he is successful in the venture! From this point forward, Ian is to be known as "The Stairmaster!"

Happy smiles all around signifies a job well done.

Come evening, and Vennie is at Slimmons, exercising her heart out.

She insists that it's only water in the bottle.

Look at this! Dana's "Exit" sign has not been replaced. Slimmons. You can check in but you can't check out.

And once again, happy smiles all around signifies a job well done.

Thirty posts in thirty days. This is day 19.

The Thinker

So I was talking to my good friend Angie the other night, and of course as the discussion meandered, we got onto the topic of Richard Simmons and a recent Message of the Day that he wrote. In it, he wanted to know what "The Thinker" was thinking about?

In all honesty, this is not the first time that I heard him pose the question. It goes back - to the best of my knowledge - to about 2006. And the night that he asked the class, I went home and e-mailed him what I thought.

* * * * *

Well, I knew the answer (to your question) immediately. The guy was sitting there on a rock, head tilted down and resting on his fist. For the first 10 minutes of the job, he was admiring his own manhood. Sorry Richard, but all women know that that's just what you guys do.

After the first 10 though, he'd had enough of himself. "Oh my God!" he thought. "This job is paid by the hour so I want it to go on and on and on. But on the other hand, this position is really hurting my back. And they haven't invented Advil yet!"

Fortunately for "The Thinker", Rodin was a kind taskmaster. He allowed regular breaks and the Thinker had ample opportunity to stretch.

One day, Rodin's good friend, Leonardo Da Vinci came by. Now, Leonardo was always on the lookout for a new model, and here was one right here in Rodin's studio prime for the picking. The Thinker was stretching at the time... ironically enough, in an arched doorway. Europe is quite well known for arches you know, and not the Golden Arches, either. Up, down, up, down went Thinker's arms. Apart, together, apart, together went Thinker's legs. And so, Da Vinci's famous Vitruvian Man was born!

Rodin and Da Vinci were both very cheap, so they alternated taking turns rendering 'The Thinker' and, for a short time, shared the per diem owed. Rodin was somewhat possessive, though, so he insisted that Da Vinci add long hair to his sketch so that 'Joe Public' would not recognize that they were one-and-the-same man.

Of course, a sketch is completed much faster than a giant statue, and soon Da Vinci left both the building and his friends to their own devices. The statue took a good long time to complete... and despite the poor Thinker's regular stretching breaks, lack of Advil took it's toll. By the time the job was complete, he was hunched over, right hand clenched in the small of his back, left hand extended ahead of him to feel his way out of the building. He couldn't lift his head up enough to watch his own way.

Rodin was quite intrigued by this posture. He had already spent all his 'expendable cash' in paying Thinker's salary and also anticipated hefty medical bills (he didn't carry Worker's Comp Insurance), so he didn't want to ask Thinker back to stay while he worked on another statue. But he quickly went to work and produced a small replica of The Thinker in Pain. He called it "Achy Breaky Back."

Achy Breaky was not one of his better known works, and rightfully so. It really was schlock. And so it descended into the doldrums of artwork and eventually made it's way to the American South where it was sold to "Ma Cyrus" at a garage sale. She loved the piece - it was the only 'real art' that she had in her double-wide trailer - and, totally unaware of it's illustrious origins, she displayed it proudly on top of her TV console.

Now enter young Billy Ray Cyrus, gyrating around and thinking about country stardom. He would dance all over their trailer, imitating his favorite... Elvis... and unaware of anything else in his environment. Hips gyrating, legs kicking, he whirled around one day and knocked 'Achy Breaky Back' right off of the TV and into a million pieces!

Ma Cyrus was pretty upset. Actually, she was VERY upset. In her most fervent tone, she screamed at Billy Ray "You broke my Achy Breaky Back! You break my "Achy Breaky Heart!!!!" And that's how Rodin spawned a cheap 90's song-and-dance act and now you know the REST of the story!

Thirty posts in thirty days. This is day 13.

In which Richard Simmons holds my Sock

It was The Yarn Harlot's idea. I've knit a gazillion things including about a million pairs of socks. I've knit cheap yarn and expensive, handspun and commercial. I've knit flourescent bright colors, subdued naturals, and even black. I've knit metalic yarn and I've knit beads into my products, and I've handspun yarn with beads in it and then knit it up. I've carried my knitting all over creation, and often my spinning wheel too. But even after Stephanie -The Yarn Harlot - McPhee posted a link on her blog to yet another one written by Tracy (a friend-or-fan-I-don't-know-which)featuring pictures of Barack Obama holding her own sock in progress, I admit it never occured to me to take a picture of the man holding my knitting. This being true even though he's seen me knitting and doing all sorts of other crafty things many times over the years. Even after seeing Stephanie post pictures of pretty-much everyone and everything with her own sock in progress, it just didn't seem right. "The Sock" was a Yarn Harlot thing. I was amused and delighted by the whole concept, but I did not equate it to my own life.

But then on October 4, 2008, The Yarn Harlot blog issued a challenge to her readers. Try to replicate the feat. Get a politician who is nationally recognized to hold our own work, and post a picture to prove it. For every photo successfully taken, a donation will be made to

MSF, a Nobel Prize-winning international organization dedicated to medical relief and witnessing-reporting human rights violations.

I read the rules with interest. Not knowing any politicians (although I will admit to knowing somebody who IS going to be one in the future and WILL be recognizable on a national basis), I was amused but not moved. But then I read the caveat in her musings. Celebrities count too.

I am not shy about saying that
Richard Simmons saved my life. Physically, by believing in me and my ability to lose more than 200 pounds way before I believed in myself, but also by seeing me through dramatic emotional growth. He knew me when I was a very angry woman - was the butt of my anger on more than one occasion - and stuck by me all the way to present times while I still struggle with my health and even my emotions, but am a fully functioning person. He introduced me to my best friends, taught me the merits of make-up and appearance, and enabled me to meet my love. He IS the man.

But Stephanie is the WOMAN. I have not had the pleasure of meeting her yet. In fact, when she last passed through Los Angeles on a book tour, I had tickets to her event but was too sick that day to attend, and it kills me even now. She is the rock star of the knitting world and, if she's ever taken any notice of my very-occasional comments on her blog, she probably considers me a little bit nuts and somebody maybe to be avoided. If true, she's right on the 'little bit' part, but I'm safe and not a stalker. Really. Honestly. NOW STOP LAUGHING AT ME!

Anyway, by virtue of the fact that I have lost a lot of weight thanks to Richard, I consider him a great friend as well as a mentor. I know him to be kind and compassionate and a good sport about photo opportunities. And I knew it the second I read Stephanie's post. If I knit it, he would pose.

So I called some of my friends as I excitedly put my handspun yarn that I've been saving to make socks with into a bath to set the twist, and they pointed out to me that Richard may be a celebrity, and Richard may be my mentor and friend, but Richard also recently testified on Capitol Hill about Physical Fitness and re-establishing P.E. in schools
. Although not a politician per se (he threatened to run for office during his testimony), he qualifies as a major participant in government!

We qualify on two fronts!

So I put aside my beading when my yarn was dry,

made balls,

and started my sock.

I conferred with Eric and Beth and Vennie... "You don't really think he will mind, do you? He won't mind having his picture taken and posted on my blog? I can't tell him why I need the picture in advance. It's against the rules." And they all assured me that he not only would not mind, but has already endured far worse hazing than that from me and my friends, all in good humor. (If you decide to click on this link, my apology. I built it way before I knew how to reduce the megapixels of pictures, but I promise you it's worth it.) And so I knit the first few inches of my sock. And worried just a little, although not enough to deter me from my purpose. I was going to rise to the challenge that The Yarn Harlot had put forth. If posing with a sock-in-progress was good enough for Barack Obama, certainly Richard must be seen doing the same. He should have been first. It's my fault he wasn't. I just didn't think of it!


I do admit to e-mailing him in advance of exercise class to ask him if he would pose. Richard is a very busy man who still makes time to teach classes himself at Slimmons (his exercise studio). The rules said that I couldn't tell him why - I didn't - but didn't say that there couldn't be advance notice. I wanted to make sure he had the time when I brought the sock to class. And so he did.

And now, without further fanfare, I present... Richard Simmons holding my sock.



You should know that after I took the pictues, Richard turned to me and asked "And why am I doing this? Why am I holding this sock?" to which I answered "I can't tell you. It's against the rules, but I'll send you the link later tonight."

I turned away from him, and then turned back again. "Don't worry," I said. "Barack Obama posed with a sock too."

Stephanie, I will also make a donation to MSF to honor the challenge that you presented and I thank you not only for your continuing wisedom and wit, but for the opportunity to have some fun.

And Richard... what can I say? You always rise to every occasion. I love you.

To Go or to Not Go...

To go or not to go... that was the question. Starting yesterday, thoughts started passing through my mind that maybe I should try a come-back at Slimmons tonight. The urge was even stronger today, and this afternoon, I even pulled out my exercise clothing in preparation for the decision. I finished a beaded bracelet (I'll post the picture soon), I took the dogs for two short (and I mean really short) walks, and I thought about it.

I also thought about the other things I needed to get done. I need to get the kitchen picked up (I actually cooked a very simple meal for myself last night), I need to get laundry done, I desperately needed to pick up a prescription that has been waiting for me for two days now and I'm out of that particular med. And I became exhausted thinking about just that.

My "good" times are now measured in hours instead of minutes. By good, I don't mean good like a healthy person. But I mean good as in I am not running a fever, I'm strong enough to sit up and get up to move around the condo as necessary, and my mind is functioning rationally. There has been a lot of time over the past four or five months where my illness was causing a short circuit in my brain. You couldn't really tell so much from my e-mails or posts other than a greater irritability factor than normal, but talk to me in person and there was no question but that there was something seriously wrong.

So I thought about the exhaustion. And I thought about Slimmons. It's an hour or more drive from my home on work nights; two hours round trip with no guarantee once I get there. (40 minutes on Saturday morning when there is no traffic.) And I thought about my prescription. Then my rational-thinking brain took over. It was not a good idea to try it tonight. I know that the time that I return - assuming that the Cimzia for which I am receiving another set of injections next Wednesday - is not the root of my problem, I think I may only be a week or two away from giving it a try. But it's not time yet.

So I went to the pharmacy and filled my prescription. I did a little marketing while I was out. And by the time I got home, my temperature had shot up to 101.3. Last night's lack of fever was a fluke. I've had a serious temperature every single evening for several months now. And on-and-off during the day too.

I'm looking at my computer screen's clock right now. 6:50 pm. Class has been in session for 20 minutes. I'm at peace with my decision to stay home. The last thing I want to do is go and provoke another health incident, especially the night before Richard leaves for New Orleans.

So I think I'll go get a hot bath running and spend some time warming up. I'll look at my beads and a newer beading book when I get out, assuming that my fever hasn't significantly risen and also assuming I'm up to it, then figure out their instructions how to do spiral beading. And I'll relax. The good news is that I don't think that Slimmons is going away soon.

Manic Monday

I'm glad that the day is almost over. Sometimes we all have days like that, I suppose.

It started with, once the morning chores were done and today's dose of Medication was injected, a noon-time appointment at the dentist. Oy. I am on a "short rotation" for teeth cleaning. That means that I am in his office every three months for a cleaning and exam whether I like it or not. And like it I do not.

Unfortunately, with all the years of disease and medications and throwing up, my teeth have been badly affected and need to be watched closely. To this day, I have only lost one wisdom tooth although to maintain that record of dental health, I've had to endure many a root canal and it's less insideous cousin, crowning. In fact, all four of my front teeth are "fake" as well as the better part of my molars. But I have had an on-again-off-again pain in the upper right corner of my mouth since the beginning of April, and the dentist took a look today.

"Pull all of her remaining wisdom teeth!" was the edict.

"WHAT?!?!" Or should I say, "SMMMMMMMPH!" because the technician had her instruments in my mouth when this went down. I spat them out.

"What do you mean pull ALL of my wisdom teet? People have been telling me that for I don't know how many years and I don't think they really need to go, do they? If you pull them, I will have to get thicker glasses to compensate for the drop in IQ." (Everyone knows that people who wear glasses have an increase in IQ of 15 points.)

"They're not doing anything for you." he said, and left the room.

Well, I can tell you that I have not scheduled an appointment to have them taken out. I will give you that the one on the upper right is problematic and I will probably have to aquiese on it when it hurts a little worse, but the rest? They're mine, I tell you. Mine!

From the Dentist, I made a brief stop at Home Depot where I needed to buy a new nut to replace the one that fell off of a screw on my spinning wheel. With my ongoing drug (chemo) therapy, I am not thinking cohesively enough to make jewelry, but I think I can spin yarn. If my wheel was operational. So I'm going to try it later this evening and see how it goes.

From Home Depot, it was on to Bally's Fitness where an appointment to get a free 2 week pass from "Art" had been scheduled. Oy. Oy. OY!

Now I don't know if all Bally's are like this one or not, and in fact I suspect that they are not. But I arrived to find that Art had left for the day, but had left Juan behind to field his appointments. Juan was very insecure about me, and for good reason. He was trying to sell me a health club with antiquated and broken equipment, mildewed walls, and a college-age clientele. There were barely any classes available, and those that were weren't impressive.

It thought it would be prudent to sit with him anyway after the tour. If I was going to get a pass, would it be good at only this Bally's location or could I use it at others too? "No, only here. And by the way, as soon as I put your name in the system, you will not be able to get a pass at any other Bally's location for six months."

Well, I would like to see and try out the one that is closer to home too and I have a feeling in better shape. I took a pass on the pass.

Home to walk the dogs, then attend Richard Simmons weekly chat in his clubhouse. If things continue down the path that they are on right now, I will not be a member any more next week. I sat quietly during the chat, thinking of cracks that I could make, but sitting still. After it was over and Richard had left, I thanked all the people in the room for having been there, telling them that it had been an honor to have spent time in the forum with them. And then it happened. I had the melt down that has been coming on for the past five weeks.

I am eternally grateful to Iris and Joy who understood what I was trying to say, even as I took them out of left field. I apologize to the rest of the people in that room who I'm guessing had no idea that feelings and issues could run so deep in one who was seemingly riding the crest as one of Richard's poster girls.

And Richard? He was not there. I suppose I owe him an apology for opening my mouth up 'in his home,' but not as big an apology as I think I am owed.

I've had a good cry now. I'm probably ready to tackle the evening.

Dialin' it Down

Weight loss isn't easy. Weight maintance is worse. In fact, I think it may be considered excruciating. When you're losing weight, you have the changing numbers to give you momentary highs... at least when they're going in the right direction. You can do three things. Gain weight. Stay the same. Lose weight. But it's a lot of pressure.

Once you hit maintenance, it is a different kind of pressure. At best, you can maintain. At worst, you can gain weight and fail. I maintained for well over 18 months, then over the last holiday season, I let it go and I gained 9 pounds. I've been struggling with those nine since then.

One of the biggest indicators of permanent weight gain, from my view, is to stop looking at the issue. In my former life, the whole point was to hide from the numbers... I would not get on the scale when I gained. I would not buy clothes to fit my expanding body, and when I was forced to, I made it the larger numbers on the clothes the fault of the clothing manufacturers. Smaller cuts... shrinking fabric.

This time, I decided to handle the issue differently. It's been frustrating, maddening, painful. Despite the gain, I got on the scale each and every day. I wrote to Richard about the issue, letting him know early on that I had a serious problem. I discussed it with Lucy too. My friends knew about it, as did Eric. Family too. They were all very supportive of me in my struggles, but I never expected them to come up with an answer. The problem was mine to deal with.

I don't think that weight gain has as much to do with food as commonly believed. Rather, it has everything to do with changing lifestyles and inability to look at what continues to work and what behaviors are no longer productive in our lives. The obese tend to want to isolate themselves (we have reason... trust me on that), and live in a world of denial where if we don't acknowledge our failures. If they don't exist, we don't feel quite as badly about ourselves.

My lifestyle has changed radically over the last year. Eric came into it and with an intimate relationship, I've had to shift a lot of the things that I do. We're a "we" now, rather than a him and me. That's a wonderful thing and feeling; knowing that we will always have each other's backs. But there's the flip side. Social encounters often mean eating engagements. And trust me, I've eaten.

I never completely lost focus on what could be lost from my life if I let food get out of control, and truthfully, Eric has been more than accomodating in helping me. We tend to go to smaller restaurants, or those that can accomodate my need for lower calorie fare. But as Richard says, and Lucy too... going out for meals is a ticket to weight gain. In order to keep going, I needed to make adjustments in other areas.

The first and most obvious area I could change was my exercise. But that is not so easy. Matters of health keep popping up, forcing me back into either a chair or on a complete hiatus from movement. It was clear that I needed to change my eating habits. But that was a tough nut to crack. I had only been keeping sporadic food journals since last December... hmmmm - a one on one correlation to not wanting to deal with the issue.

Still, I never completely turned away from the issue. And it appears to finally be paying off in dividends. Several things have happened in the past few weeks that have made a significant change. I finally opened up enough to try the meal replacements at HMR. I only take in two a day; not as a substitution for meals but to use as snacks. Truthfully, my Crohns doctor is the one who finally forced this issue because I was not processing real food properly and I was going downhill. Fast. When I started taking them, I got a big surprise. The MRs are nutritionally balanced, and I suddenly was getting vitimans and nutrients that were not being absorbed from real food. I felt better and didn't feel the compulsion to eat so much. As the total calories in the MRs I take in combined are only 200, I know the loss is not because I've turned away from food. Trust me, I'm eating. But there's a physical component that has shifted.

They also had me double up on my daily vitiman. That helped too.

But then there was a very important turning point. Two weeks ago, Richard was holding another of his chats in his clubhouse. He talked about a student at Slimmons who had been struggling. (No, I honestly don't know who this student is.) They were parked next to each other one evening and after class, he saw what she had in the passenger compartment of her car. All sorts of junk food!

At that point, he stopped her and together, they made a written list of her top 10 trigger foods. He had her keep the list and told her to avoid buying anything on it. And she kept her promise and she lost weight.

So I thought about this story and decided that it was worth a try. I decided to list my trigger foods.

1.) Chili Encrusted Dried Mango
2.) Dried Cranberries
3.) Crackers
4.) Bread (if not kept in the freezer)
5.) Hard Candy (I had taken it up as a breath freshener since getting sick)
6.) Protein bars from HMR

I looked at the list. This was all I could come up with! And I realized that my eating habits had changed so fundamentally that I no longer crave cookies and candy and cakes and whatnot. No wonder that my gain had been so slow! What was on the list was just not such a big deal.

I decided to apply Richard's idea along with the other two components that I had added into my life. And remarkably, have lost 5 of the 9 pounds.

I know that this is not the end of the story. But it has been a lesson that is not lost on me. I know in my head and heart that the most important thing I can to to ensure my long-term success is always be willing to look at myself with a rational - not condeming - mind. To be willing to acknowledge not only my successes but my challenges too. (Not failures... just issues.) To be willing to change things up, to experiment, until something clicks into place that works.

My life circumstances are a constant evolution. I need to be sure that my mind evolves along with them.

On Keepin' On

I had my first appointment - this go-around - with Rocky at JMP Rehabilitation (Physical Therapy) today. It was a strange experience. Deja vu. I felt like I had been there before and, in fact, I had. Many times. A lot of the same supportive staff who have helped me over the years still work there and seemed very happy to see me. And in a way, I was happy to see them too. Of course I'd rather have reunited under more social circumstances, but it is what it is.

The immediate burning question on their mind, knowing where I have come from and how I lost weight, was if I still exercised withRichard Simmons... to which I, of course, answered "Yes!" They can see that I've somewhat maintained my 200+ pound weight loss, even with my current struggles in that arena. I've gone to Rocky after orthopedic issues at all of my differing sizes, and they've always been helpful, but with me being of normal BMI, he's more helpful. Probably because I'm more able to help myself.

Everyone looks about the same. Maybe a little older and some a little heavier, but they always were very good looking and athletic and it remains so.

However, my appearance is really different than the last time I visited. That last time, I was so ill that the Paramedics were called after I had collapsed on the way out. They had dismissed me before the appointment was finished because I looked too sick to partipate and apparently they were right. So I really don't know if their attitude today was of concern for my health and the historical consequences or disquiet because I don't look like the same person that they'd known for all these years (25).

One of the fortunate-but-unfotunate issues of weight loss is that you discover just how important appearance really is. More so than I had ever imagined. I wear a lot of make-up now; put a lot of emphasis on hair and clothing. It's something that Richard taught me; a lesson that I resisted for years before I finally aquiesced. People treat me differently at my current weight, and especially with my attention to cosmetic impact. Much better. But it's awkward and disquieting for me.

I've talked about this with my Therapist on many occasions. How the world works so differently than I had thought for those many years. How unfair it is that we're primarily judged on appearance rather than substance. And how I still feel like a fish-out-of-water under most circumstances. Like I don't necessarily deserve the attention that I get.

All the same, discomfort be damned, I'm not going back from where I came. It's not that I like how I look now (I don't), or even that I enjoy the preferential treatment I receive (it makes me feel like a fraud). But what I do enjoy is that I can go anywhere I want to go and do most of the things I would like to do that I used to only get to watch from the sidelines.

The bottom line is that even though I don't fit socially and don't know if I ever will, I fit in much better.

U.F.O.

One of the ironic things about my keeping this blog is the direction that it has gone in. It was originally inspired by my fiber friends, many of whom kept pictoral journals of what they were working on. I thought I was going to do the same as them, recording the spinning and knitting projects that I so enthusiastically worked on. But the nature of my writing is that I often don't know what I am going to say before I put it down and my journey has only infrequently mentioned the crafts projects that I am almost always at.

It's now the Monday after the Friday of the surgery and I am no longer working on an adreneline high. The big bandage has come off of my knee and has been replaced by band aids over the scars & stiches. My foot remains wrapped, but I took the outer layer off, revealing a green wrap and toes that are somewhat swollen but not bruised. Indeed, my knee is less swollen than I would have guessed, probably because of the Game Ready machine, but there is a looseness about my joint that is worrisome. I don't feel at all stable on the leg and proceed around the condo with caution.

I'm also really on my own now. On Friday, Eric was a wonderful help. Saturday I was by myself, but after initial expectations of being up and about, reality took over, I crashed, and spent the majority of the say sleeping. Sunday, I went down to Richard's radio broadcast to meet with his disapproval over I'm not sure exactly what. Maybe my appearance there, maybe his mistaken belief that I was not feeling ok, maybe I did something wrong. I don't know, but whatever.

After the show, I went to Target - yes on crutches - to replace my microwave which had finally bitten the dust, then came home, installed it. Sandy & Christiane came over for a brief visit, then I restlessly paced my condo.

Today, I feel deflated. Lonesome. (I really am all by myself.) And, as in times past when I need soothing, have picked up my knitting needles.

I have an old "UFO" to work on. For those not familiar with the term, UFO stands for "Un Finished Item." In this case, a sweater featured in the 2000 issue of Interweave Knits that I started last year and then, for some unknown reason, got bored with and put down.

The pattern is actually lovely and an easy job to do. It's a modified ribbing, but features a very pretty offset yoke in back and in front.
Rather than using the yarn called for in the pattern, I've pressed some old cotton that I picked up at an estate sale for almost nothing into service. It's incredibly soft, somewhat lusterous, and delightful to work with.

I'm probably about 1/2 way up the back and just about to start the armholes.
Of course, this is not how I had hoped to be spending my time, but perhaps I'll at least get something tangible out of my infirmity.

Making Plans

Apparently, I remain suggestable. Despite myself. When I would love to just do my own thing, especially where my weight maintenance, and hopefully loss is concerened, I am in situations where everyone wants to help me. And help me they do, despite my announced intention to the contrary.

On Tuesday, I went to my regular weight maintenance class at HMR where the unit, since the new year began, is on getting back to basics.

It has been the perfect unit for me since, in December, I let go of food sheets for the first time in several years, and not so coincidentally, gained four pounds. That on top of the weight that I had been slowly gaining over the prior six months. An eight pound increase.

I did a lot of things right in December, though, including continuing to go to exercise class, going to my weight maintenance class (where - ahem - I had a perfect attendance record all through November and December), and weighing myself every single day. Despite the fact that I did not like what I was seeing on the scale. Also, I not only did not hide the fact that I was failing to keep records, but I made sure that both Lucy and Richard were aware. Both encouraged me to pick them back up again, but wisely did not press the point.

I truly believe that being honest with myself, and with others, was what made it easy for me to start over right after Chritmas.

But keeping food sheets has proven to be only half the issue. I actually needed to address the problem eating areas that was driving my weight up. It started with purging my home of all the junk and processed foods that I had collected. That has proven not to be enough, though. While I've stopped the weight gain dead in it's tracks, I've only dropped a couple of pounds and, with my impending knee and foot surgeries coming up (my friend Wendy refers to me as "At Wounded Knee." Thanks, Wendy - lol!), I need to get more agressive. After all, the exercise is going to grind to a halt during recovery.

So what to do? I'm not good at limiting myself at foods, nor am I good at making food plans. "Decisionless days." Lucy calls them. As soon as I lock myself into a set menu, I revolt (against who or what, I don't know) and deviate. So I've been very resistant to the idea.

The thing is, though, that pretty-much everyone who advocates weight loss says that a plan is essential. Richard reiterates it over and over again. Lucy promises us that weight loss is not very likely without one. And in the face of this pressure, how do I deal with it?

Well, Lucy has seemingly come up with an idea for her class that may do the trick. Last Tuesday, she suggested that we not plan every bite that we are going to eat that day, but instead figure out what we were going to do for exercise, how we were going to get our minimum five fruits and vegetables per day into our diet, and - for those who participate, not me - how and when we were going to take our meal replacements. She had us pull out our HMR Food Journals and commit these plans to paper. The idea being that 1.) we are way more likely to maintain a healthy lifestyle if we commit to it in writing and 2.) we are way more likely to displace bad habits by crowding them out by good than by just saying no.

I did not want to write anything down, but I humored her and did so.




Surprisingly, I did not have much trouble keeping the plan. I was resistent to the idea, though, and did not do them yesterday. But then woke up this morning and thought "Why not? I'll give it a try."

The results were startling. Except for not making a salad to go with my dinner because I was not hungry enough for it, and not using tomato sauce on my baked spaghetti squash because when I pulled it out of the refrigerator, it looked like a science experiment, I kept to the quasi-plan perfectly. I ate other foods in addition to my written record, but pulled my day in at a net calorie level (food intake minus exercise calories burned) of 1150 calories. Wow!

So when I got home this evening after Richard's class, I decided to try it again tomorrow. Wrote down my exercise plan, which by the way, included the 25 abdominal crunches and the four push ups that Richard, this evening, implored us to do on a daily basis. Came up with a plan to get more than my minimumly prescribed roughage, and included a Benefit Bar treat in the mix. And I also sketched in an outline of an exercise plan for Saturday.



Now, I don't pretend that my troubles are over, that this new form of less-commital weight loss plans is going to be the panacea for all that ails me. But I'm willing to give it a try.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Who am I becomming?

Tonight, Richard led a chat about Peace in honor of Martin Luther King. It was a rather profound subject for me, one of self revelation.

Of course, he turned the concept of MLK's peace around to a discussion of inner peace. "Are you at peace with yourself?" he asked. And my immediate response was "no." I have all sorts of issues in my life, some of which make me very upset.

He asked us to rate our level of peace on a scale of 1 to 10. I gave myself a 5. I was going to give myself a 2, then realized almost immediately that I wasn't being honest. I've been at "2," I'm not there now.

As the chat went on, I thought about what was upsetting me. Family. I can't really do anything about it, right? Not really. The people who I am unhappy with are struggling with their own demons. I have removed myself from the situation, at least for now. I have not removed them from my life, nor do I intend to. But like they taught us in "Junior Life Guards" at Camp Lakota way back when I was in my early teens, when you're dealing with a drowning person, the first thing is make sure they don't get a grip on you and drag you down with them. That's not going to happen. Not anymore.

Then, there is the other thing. Richard's "Sweating To the Oldies" DVDs came out at the beginning of the year. Pleased that my picture was picked up on the packaging, I was even happier that his "Love Yourself and Win" motivational program was a bonus disc inside. We filmed it in September of 2006; I was proud to be a participant.

The thing is, though, that I was horribly ill at the time of the taping. Only a month out of medical crisis stage, my participation was questionable right up to the very day. I must have driven them crazy with all of my special requests to make that appearance happen. I remember asking to have a later call time than the rest of the cast because of fatigue; permission granted. They allowed me to lay down on the sofa in the lobby when everyone else had to be in place in the studio, only requiring me join them at the times they were actually filming. And I was allowed free access to the facilities in deference to my medical situation, despite the fact that nobody else was allowed to leave except at specified breaks.

It was hard. In fact, looking back I have no idea how I got through it. I talked about "Practicing Patience," a subject with which I am intimately familiar, given my situation. I remember how weak I was... Richard had to help me up the stairs onto the stage, and then down again at the end. They told me, after my segment filmed, that I could go home, but I chose to stay. I was so weak that I was only able to sit up in my chair by leaning on the table next to me.

And after the filming was done, I went home, went to bed, and was too tired to come out of my condo again for a full week. No exageration.

My recollection, though, was that I had done pretty well in the interview. That I looked OK, even though Adele later told me that in my picture with Richard (taken right after we were finished), my body looked great but my face was awful. That it was clear how sick I was. I didn't think about it again after we were done with the conversation. Until this past weekend.

Well, the DVD came out, and I finally got a copy. I was about to put it in my player when Eric unexpectedly showed up, so we watched it together. Or should I say, he watched it. After the first 10 seconds, I couldn't look anymore.

Everything about that go-around of illness came flooding back to me. I looked absolutely awful, like death warmed over. Moon faced (from ultra-high levels of steroids), and almost incoherent. I turned my face into the pillow on the sofa and cried. Eric insisted that I didn't look so bad. "Just bloated and nervous." But he is looking through the eyes of love and also, this matter falls in the same category as "Does my butt look big?" so I wouldn't expect to get a bluntly honest answer.

Later that evening, I went over to my good friends, Sandy & Christiane's home and brought the DVD with me. We played it; they reacted with horror. "How could he have filmed you in that state?" was their question. "Why on earth did you do it?"

Well, Richard was pressed and I certainly wouldn't blame him. And I try to keep all commitments that I make, regardless of my personal situation. Poor Richard... the emphasis of this recording was about living well, feeling well, and looking great, and he had ME on there like a zombie from hell. I have been so upset about it.

I couldn't pinpoint exactly what I've been upset about. Certainly I'm not upset with anyone in particular. Nobody is to blame here. Not Richard, not me. But I've been bordering on a level of hysteria all the same. The person in that DVD was not me as I really am...



So fast forward back to tonight's chat. As Richard asked question after question. As I reflected on the answers, I realized that most of my responses belayed a level of security and lack of anxiety that I don't think I've ever felt before. And then it came to me as an epiphany.

I don't need to be upset about the DVD. It is what it is. Richard had the power to edit me out... to edit somebody else into that place I occupied had he wanted to. There were a number of people who participated that day that did not end up in the can at all. Any one of them could have been put in my place, their comments cut and paste to sound like they were answering my questions. So if there is damage done by the way I looked and sounded, it was by choice.

And even though I hate the idea that the 'monster' who appears on that DVD will probably haunt me for some time to come (people are ordering that set and watching it), I did nothing for which I can feel anything but pride. I have lost weight. I looked like what I was at the time. Somebody who had just survived yet another round of near-death experience. Who, had I been at my old weight and health level, might not have made it. I made it through that day as a symbol not of illness, but as a testament that anything that does not kill you makes you stronger.

Am I completely at peace with myself now? No, not really. There are many things which I would like to resolve.

I'd like to be healthy, once and for all.
I'd like to lose the 7 pounds left from the holidays, and maybe even a little more than that.
I'd like to have my surgery done and over with, and be able to walk without pain.
I'd like to be financially stable, and maybe even a little bit affluent.
I'd like my life to mean something, rather than just be a day-to-day existence.

Without these stresses, though, I may not feel compelled to evolve and grow. And that is paramount over all other things.

And when I look at what I do have, what I have achieved, physically, mentally, and emotionally, I realize that I am more at peace with myself than I thought. Maybe an "8." Things could be worse.