The other side

I almost didn't share my weight loss story.

Not because I was afraid to admit I ever had a weight problem. Not because people will be watching to see if I gain it back. Not because it meant I really should share how much I have weighed through the years. Not because I think there are 100 other character qualities more important than what a scale says.

Those were all reasons, but they weren't the #1 reason.

My #1 reason for reluctance was that even though 66ish% of our population is overweight or obese, there is a much smaller population that deals with the other side of the unhealthy eating coin.

Those that no matter how small they get, they will always see themselves as fat.

Those that no matter what the number on the scale, they will always feel that they need to go smaller.

Those that no matter how few calories they consumed in a day, they will always feel it was too many.

Those that no matter how many miles they run in a day, it will never feel like enough.

Those that are more scared of body weight than they are of death itself.

And for those people, I almost didn't share my story. I knew that even though my high weight was unhealthy, and I took healthy steps to get to a healthy weight, that discussion of weight loss may trigger others into a downward spiral of unhealthy habits. Start reciting a script in their head that they aren't good enough. That they need to try harder. Restrict more. Exercise longer. I know, because I've heard their stories of how they may have started with healthy changes until it became an obsession. A jail.

And now, at moments, I can feel the same pull. I can look in the mirror and see so much imperfection, probably moreso now than I did 35 pounds ago. I have conversations in my head that I would rather not repeat (since they aren't true), but that leave me feeling exhausted, unworthy. I get sucked in when I see ads for the newest exercise or food that promises to leave me sculpted. Perfect.

But I refuse to give in to those thoughts. I call them out. I recognize them for what they are. Lies. I have reached healthy, I don't need to see a lower number. I don't need to see a six pack, my imperfect stomach will help keep me modest. I point an accusing finger at weight loss ads that never would have caught my eye before but now promise me paradise. Promise me never ending happiness.


But thinness doesn't fill the soul anymore than a a huge bowl of ice cream.

We were created for more.

Fitting in

I've never felt comfortable in clothing stores. When I first hit my goal weight a few months ago I was walking through the mall, heading from one department store to the next. I walked by "Express" and thought about going in because I thought that, at this weight, they would have something in my size. And then I seriously broke out into a cold sweat and thought "I don't fit in there" and walked on. A mini panic attack...about a store.What in the world? I had to ask myself "why?" and "when did that start?"

My "why" is because I have always felt that I never have had the body size or money to shop anywhere besides the department store sale racks, usually in the "women's" section. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. But why did the thought of going into a GAP or Express or LOFT or any other "clothing" store make me freak out? Then I remembered specifically when it started.

In middle school I was shopping with a friend and her mom at "Vanity." As I checked the tags I realize a) they had nothing in my size (which was probably about a 14 at that point) and b) the price tags were higher than my babysitting money funds allowed-at least after I spent my money on CD's and books. It was a moment when I mentally lowered my head and realized...I didn't fit in. I was too big and too cheap.

So from that point on I stuck to "safer" places. I actually didn't think you could get women's clothing in my size unless it was a mumu, so I often bought men's clothing. I have to shake my head when I go back and look at pictures of the manly cargo pants, t-shirts, and plaid shirts. (In my defense, I was in high school about the time when Nirvana and similar grunge bands were popular...I think we all had a case of the frumpies). I didn't even realize the mental script I was reading over and over again...you're too big, too cheap, you don't fit in.

But it also never really bothered me. I don't know if it was self-confidence or ignorance, but it didn't really bother me that I wore a pair of tapered jeans a size too small with a 3XL men's plaid shirt to my first day of school my senior year...and probably about every other day that year. Similar fashion faux pas and fear of clothing stores stuck with me for a long time.

I'm growing up a bit. Realizing that no matter what size I am, I can dress in a flattering way. I'm slowly accepting that size tags and price tags are just pieces of paper.

Do you remember your prom date?

How can I keep my kids from harm, heartache, abduction, broken bones, acne, eating disorders, or becoming an Illini fan? These are the worries that keep me up at night. A lot of my mommy-ing energy is spent worrying about such things and reflecting on sad stories of tragedy in the lives of teens. I look at my beautiful children and wonder "what heartache will you endure?" And the news has no shortage of such stories...add in some of my favorite detective type shows and books and the fears can be overwhelming.

But my energies would be better spent focusing on learning from parents and teachers on how to help my children develop into people of character...caring, independent, other-centered, creative, confident, secure, and Hawkeye fans.

Enter the story out of (the best) high school: Kingsley-Pierson. Senior Rachel Bird took a cutout Tim Tebow to prom. The most complete account I've seen is from the Sioux City journal (link below), but the story has also been picked up by ESPN, People, CBS, and lots of other places. I'll let the journalistic professionals report on the story through the links below.

http://siouxcityjournal.com/article_4221c7f1-64b4-57ac-a2db-d3f54800f9b7.html


http://www.people.com/people/tablet/article/0,,20592519,00.html#news

http://offthebench.nbcsports.com/2012/05/01/iowa-girl-takes-cardboard-cutout-of-tim-tebow-to-prom-as-her-date/


To me the great part of the story is not that she took Tim Tebow or even thought of asking him (ever since Marsha Brady asked Davy Jones back in the day, many celebrities get prom invites every year.) The great part of the story is some of the things the story reveals about Rachel's character, which makes me wonder "how can I plant some of the same seeds in my daughter?" Specifically:

Rachel's creativity. When I lacked a date my junior year I never thought of taking a cutout. And my date my senior year was much like a cardboard cutout: silent, non-moving, one dimensional.

Rachel's confidence. Even if many of us were creative enough to make a cardboard cutout, many of us wouldn't follow through with it for fear of looking "silly."

Rachel's value of a dollar. From the Sioux City Journal article, we learn that it would have been $80 to get the cutout made, and Rachel realized that was too much. Considering prom expenses seem to require a second mortgage on the home these days, I admire that she had a sense of what was "too much", and that she took full advantage of a sale:)

Rachel's choice of higher education. Not only is this wonderful young woman soon to be an alum of my own high school, but this fall she's going to be a freshman at Northwestern College in Iowa.

I don't want to put Rachel on a pedestal. I know there are quite a few teens out there that even though they haven't grabbed the national spotlight, they have strong character qualities that I would like see in my own kids. And I need to spend more of my time focusing on those things rather than worrying about tragedy. I need to learn from parents and teachers on how to raise my children with to have such qualities. Not to be a cardboard cutout of Rachel, but to be people of character. I welcome any advice...and I need to focus on the successes and not the tragedies.


"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things". -Philippians 4:8

Not quite garlic bread

I am not much of a chef. I like to think that I am, but I am truly not. I have a few dishes and desserts that I can make, and if you're thinking "she made _____________ that was really yummy", most likely it was one of the five things I can make well.

Luckily pasta type dishes are a no-brainer (once I figured out you don't put the pasta in the water until it is boiling)...and my kids will actually eat it. I haven't been eating a ton of pasta lately, but I've added whole wheat pasta back in to my life. Enter my conundrum: garlic bread. Even more lovely than pasta with marinara is a golden piece of garlic bread, with cheese of course. But unless I've just had a really long run, my body doesn't do well with both pasta and bread at the same meal. I know, sad times. And honestly, garlic bread really just is not very good for you (or me).

So tonight I made something that was nothing like garlic bread so I won't even pretend that it was. But it was yummy, healthy, and a great accompaniment to my pasta dish. The magic ingredient...zucchini!

I love zucchini sauteed or in soups, but today on a whim I tried something different and it was really good. Step 1: I sliced 2 small zucchini and placed them on my large baking stone. Step 2: Sprinkle with garlic powder and Parmesan cheese. Step 3: Bake @ 350 for about 20 minutes (I set the timer for 15, but then spaced out and didn't take it out right away). Step 4: Take out of the oven and eat. (Sounds like the recipes from my daughter's preschool class).

Sure, all things being equal, I would prefer garlic bread. Lots of it. With cheese. But all things are not equal and what I put in my mouth does impact my health. So for today I chose veggies over my cravings. And a few hours later I'm happy with that decision.

I told you I wasn't much of a chef, and you can tell I won't be a food blogger anytime soon, but it may have inspired you to try making a veggie side rather than grabbing that overly processed frozen garlic bread next time you need a friend beside the pasta on your plate.

Perfectionism and Procrastination

I've always equated procrastination with laziness. In college when I would be pulling an all nighter to finish a big Sociology paper, I attributed my sleepless state to laziness in the days proceeding. More accurately, I usually placed my social life or activities before time at the computer. But I read something on flylady.net yesterday that lit a lightbulb in my head...often it is perfectionism that leads to procrastination. We are always waiting for the perfect time to complete a task. We don't want to workout unless we have a solid 60 minutes to sweat. We wait to do laundry until we have a perfect block of time. We wait until we make "enough" money to pay down debt.

And that "waiting" for the perfect time or situation leads many of us to procrastinate and not live our life fully. Zig Ziglar calls it "getting cooked in the squat."

"Most people wait until everything is just right before they do anything. They refuse to go out on a limb where the fruit is. They are the people who end up like the cook's biscuits.

Let me explain. When I was a small boy in Yazoo City, Mississippi, we lived next door to some rich folks. I know they were rich because they not only had a cook, but the cook had something to cook. In the 1930's that was a sure sign of wealth. I was there for lunch one day, as I tried to be most every day. On this occasion, the cook brought out a pan of biscuits. Since they were no thicker than a silver dollar, I asked, 'Maude, what happened to those biscuits?' She reared back, laughed, and said, 'Well, those biscuits squatted to rise, but they just got cooked in the squat.'" -Zig Ziglar in the book See You at the Top

That's been me lately, at least in regards to writing. I obsess about what I should write about, how exactly I should phrase things, ponder how my words will be interpreted...and the days go by and you hear the sound of silence. The list is actually rather quite large when I think about the things I've put off doing just waiting for the perfect time. Here's a few...maybe you can relate:

• Waiting until I have a full 60 minutes plus time to shower before I'll do a workout rather than just lacing up my shoes and being more active all day 

• Spending way too many hours researching the "perfect diet" rather than just getting about the business of giving up ice cream and cutting up some veggies

• Waiting until we had a large lump sum of money to put towards debt rather than attack it with $100 sticks (at times saving the money led to us spending it while it was waiting...)

• Letting the laundry pile up hoping I'd have one big block of time to do it rather than throw in a load a day and staying on top of it. No matter when you tackle the laundry, there will ALWAYS be more

 So what are you waiting for? What goals or tasks do you just need to dig into rather than waiting for the "right time?"

By the numbers

Deep breath in. Deep exhale out. Audible sigh.

(I started this post over 2 months ago and haven't had the courage to finish it for several reasons. But tonight...)

Please understand me, the numbers on the scale do not define us. Do not. My character is not directly proportional to the size of my thighs.  One comforting thing about working on this particular post is looking back at myself and my sizes through the years. And I see the same girl. The things that are wonderful about me were wonderful about me at my highest and lowest weight. The faults and vices I carry with me have plagued me at every weight. I have had great friends and great fun at all sizes. I wouldn't change a moment. My scale doesn't change who I am as a person. It doesn't change who you are.

It is one indicator of how healthy (or unhealthy) we are. On Tuesday I'll be lecturing on obesity and other related diseases. I'll spare you the lecture, but when our weight goes above a healthy range, our risk for disease rises with every pound, especially once you hit the "obese" category. When I was stepping on the Wii and it would tell me "that's obese" it was also saying "you have an increased risk for heart disease, breast cancer, and diabetes". (Annika always thought it was saying "that's Sophie" and would ask me why it was calling me Sophie.) There are many other factors that play into disease risk: heredity, physical activity, other lifestyle choices; but weight is in the mix. So I decided to change mine.

And not that the scale matters, but people have been asking "how much have you lost?" So I've decided to share, in pictures, my journey with the scale.

Preschool age. Last time I was at a healthy weight.

That's me in the bee costume. About the time my weight started the rise above healthy levels...I'm sure the two are unrelated. I later inspired a Blind Melon CD cover.

 

 

 

 

Fourth grade is when my weight really started to rise relative to my height (I looked at my school records). Not coincidentally, that was the same year our family went through some stressful crisis situations. Enter emotional eating. And I had really bad hair. So no pictures. I have a little dignity left.

Junior High, High School, and college weight was in the 190's. Luckily I was active (this was taken before a triathlon) or I would have easily been 300+ pounds. Seriously. I had food issues.

 

After college I lost about 25 pounds to be at 172ish. I met Andrew, got married, and stayed close to that weight until getting pregnant with Annika.

I gained 50 pounds during my pregnancy with Annika. I was 223 right before delivery. I lost about 30 of that before getting pregnant with Aaron. I thought "I can't gain that much again" so I was better about my eating and my weight before delivery was 219. In this picture Aaron is 4 months old and I'm around 205. Over the next year I lost 10 with exercise and trying to eat healthy. The following year the same thing...and that's about where I was stuck. 185. Still lower than my high school/college weight, but above where I wanted to be. Especially considering I have arthritis in my knees that is made worse with excess weight and my HDL's were too low. So if I wanted to live a quality life, I needed to do something.

November 1, 2011. 186 pounds

Weight today: 151. I am 1 pound from being at a "healthy" weight. Do I want to see the 150? Yes. Am I obsessing about it? No. I am very happy where I am. I feel healthy. I've introduced new foods and have been maintaining my weigh with "normal" eating and exercise. My mom (pictured here) & dad have both been on this journey with me and have been so inspiring to me. We enjoyed lots of unhealthy meals over our life together...now we enjoy new veggie recipes together.

So the simple answer would have been:
35 pounds since November

But the story was more of a journey than that:

Over 70 pounds from my highest weight
Over 40 pounds from my high school weight

And I am happy where I am. I feel it's a healthy weight for my knees and for me mentally. I could try and go lower, but I'm not going to be living my life on a "diet" or pursuing magazine images of fitness models. But I am going to continue eating all the healthy vegetables, fruits, and whole foods that helped me lose the weight. But I'm going to be healthy with just enough sugar to be fun.*

* (a phrase stolen from my friend Melody)

Happy 99th Birthday

Today would have been my great-grandma Edna's 99th birthday. I was blessed to spend a lot of time with her while I was growing up. Even though she passed away almost 3 years ago, she has been one of my inspirations to live a healthy, active live.

5 generations (from young to long-lived): me, my mom Danita, my grandma Audrey, great-grandma Edna, great-great grandma Louise

Anyone who knew grandma knew she could not sit still. We even jokingly call my mom "Edna" when she's hustling to clean up the table after a family meal. We would spend a few weeks each summer with her in her small apartment. At that point she would have been in her mid to late 70's. She didn't drive. She would walk everywhere. Each morning we'd follow her "downtown" to run the daily errands. (I think sometimes she just made up errands as an excuse to go downtown because I can't imagine she would have had something to do EVERYDAY. But we walked everyday.) She was constantly cleaning, baking, taking care of her flowers, or taking her daily walk downtown.

And she was healthy.

Great-grandma with Jacque and I in the mid 1980's

She ate well: the yummy concoctions of a German descendant living in northeast South Dakota who had spent many a year at Lutheran potlucks. If you aren't familiar with what kind of spread you could expect from such a wonderful culture imagine ham, casseroles of every kind, lemon breads, chocolate chip cookies, Aunt Sally cookies (my favorite), homemade dill pickles, pasta salads, more casseroles, homemade buns, roast, boiled potatoes, and of course, jello. And she always had to follow dessert with a piece of bread "to get the sweet taste of my mouth." She wasn't a glutton by any stretch of the imagination. But she also wasn't living on spinach and strawberries (unless they were bathed in jello and cool whip).

She was active. She didn't drive, she walked. She kept busy with her hands. And all her activity served her well. She lived independently until she was 93. The last time I was at her apartment we made Aunt Sally cookies...one of my best memories. I last saw her at her 95th birthday, surrounded by her family and happy as could be. She couldn't hear very well and at that point wasn't walking, but she was still in pretty good healthy. I'm glad I get to remember her that way.

Great-great grandma and Annika in 2006 (age 93)

I'm so blessed I got her habit being active, although I need to spend more time working it into my daily life, like being in the habit of walking instead of driving rather than killing myself with crazy "exercise." Today the kids and I did our errands on foot, and I realized what joy it must have been for great-grandma to run errands with us (and any of her grandkids or great-grandkids). There are conversations and moments that happen when strolling that don't happen when we're all strapped into our seats.

She still inspires me. And I still miss her deeply.

95th Birthday Party