Whilst looking for a blog topic, one of my friends suggested I blog about my weight loss journey. (I just wanted to use the word "whilst" there.) She adroitly guessed that perhaps I wasn't ready to share that journey and she was correct. So why am I mentioning it? Perhaps a little extra pressure will keep me on track.
I've been down this road a few times before and successfully arrived at my destination. I've also gotten lost several times and discovered some great places to eat. And opened an Avenue credit card. And shopped those Lane Bryant specials. And discovered which stores carry the larger sizes (Macy's and JCPenney). And did my best to stand in the back of group photos.
But my good sense of direction has also helped. My first successful trip was in 1996 when I lost 61 pounds on a liquid, doctor supervised program. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, but not very practical for living. The liquid was either a shake or a soup. It scared the beejeezus out of me to even think about eating solid food for awhile. I kept it off about 2 years. I didn't stay scared long, did I?
In 2001, after September 11, I knew life could be fleeting and I'd best make the most of what I had. Good health was first on the agenda and I threw myself into Weight Watchers after Stephanie told me what a great and workable program it was. She hadn't told me the whole truth. It wasn't just workable, it was fantastic! I could eat, I could live, I could lose weight! I knew it wasn't a diet, but a lifestyle and a choice (and you know, if you've read here, I'm all about choice). I became a poster child for the program, literally: I was in a Weight Watcher magazine article, my doctor used me as an example to other patients, I could recite points for just about any type of food. I lost 61 pounds.
Hmmm... 61 pounds. Again.
This time I kept it off for about 3 years. It doesn't come back quickly, so it's hard to say exactly how long, but I started to move up a clothing size in late 2005. I moved up two more in 2006. I'm sure moving, living out of a suitcase, not having a kitchen for months and some marital stress all added pounds, but I had something to do with choosing what I ate. 56 pounds came back. And there I stayed. I have the photos to prove it. I even have the XXL/1X clothes to prove it! But boy did I eat - and drink - well!
Of course, 'nothing tastes as good as skinny feels' and a bad knee, along with fear of diabetes has forced the issue yet again. My brother Tim has diabetes and it runs on both sides of the family. I'm not big on the prospect of insulin injections and I'm really tired of being stopped by knee pain. Not to mention those photos.
So, here I am on that well worn path again, the wheels fitting right into those ruts. I officially started back at Weight Watchers the end of April, but didn't really start working at it until a month or so later. Now I mean it. And I have my friend Jan to meet me there every week. And I have Cameron to support me. And I love a challenge. And I love winning. And now all of you know.
I'll check in from time to time and let you know how the trip is going. I haven't lost any clothing sizes yet, but things aren't binding any more. It's working. I'll hang in there. As of this morning's weigh in I was down 14.8 pounds.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
MY DIY Husband
We live in a 1955 tract home which is built with a raised foundation. This means there is this delightful crawl space under the house meant for creepy crawlies, critters and a Do It Yourself husband.
When we first moved in he was doing so much plumbing and electrical work under the house, I offered to put a mail box outside the opening to the crawl space.
Today he promised that he had just one more trip under the house. Just one and everything would be done. The whole house sound system, moving TV cables to every room and whatever else he was doing.
While he was on his last trip under the house a neighbor came over. As we sat and chatted for a moment I was hearing some strange bumps and knocks. My neighbor looked around, unsure of what was going on. She had no idea Cameron was under the house.
"Katie!!" I heard his muffled yell. Scared, I jumped up. "Yes?! What?! Where are you?!"
"Can I come out now? You've keep me under here all day and I promise I'll be good!"
My neighbor gave me the funniest look.
When we first moved in he was doing so much plumbing and electrical work under the house, I offered to put a mail box outside the opening to the crawl space.
Today he promised that he had just one more trip under the house. Just one and everything would be done. The whole house sound system, moving TV cables to every room and whatever else he was doing.
While he was on his last trip under the house a neighbor came over. As we sat and chatted for a moment I was hearing some strange bumps and knocks. My neighbor looked around, unsure of what was going on. She had no idea Cameron was under the house.
"Katie!!" I heard his muffled yell. Scared, I jumped up. "Yes?! What?! Where are you?!"
"Can I come out now? You've keep me under here all day and I promise I'll be good!"
My neighbor gave me the funniest look.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
I don't believe in coincidence
In the mid to late 1980's, in a spiritual search, I spent some time studying Self-Realization Fellowship and the teachings of Paramahansa Yogananda. If that name sounds a bit familiar, he, aside from founding SRF, wrote "Autobiography of a Yogi" in 1946 and "Swami's Beach" in Encinitas is also named after his ashram that sits on the cliffs above.
In 1988 I quit my job with EFHutton Life/1st Capital Life Insurance Company, sold most of what I owned and bought a one way ticket to Europe where I planned to spend my 401(k) savings and as much time as possible soaking up all things European. Among the few things I took with me were the "Autobiography of a Yogi", a small book of SRF affirmations and a trifold with a picture of Yogananda, Jesus Christ and another Indian spiritual leader meant for a home meditation altar.
One day, while in Dinan, France, I decided I needed to go to Mont St. Michel. I checked the train schedules and decided I could do it in a day. Well, if I got on the right trains. I ended up on a milk run train that had me stuck in a train station in Dol-de-Bretagne for hours. By the time I reached the train station closest to Mont St. Michel it was after 8p, I had had no dinner and the buses had stopped running. The last train that would get me back to Dinan would leave at 10:30p. I had come this far, I decided to walk the 5 km to the Mont, not thinking that it was long closed to the public for the evening.
So I walked. And I walked. And I was hungry. Tres faim! As I rounded a corner I saw the Mont in the distance, out on the sea. And I kept walking. It was now after 9p and I had to decide to walk on and miss the last train or turnaround. I was so close!! I kept walking. It didn't seem to be getting any closer. It was almost 9:30p when I realized I would never make it to either the Mont or the train. I decided, as any wise 31 year old single female on a dark road in France would, to hitchhike back to the train station.
A car approached and I started to walk backwards and stick out my thumb, chickening out at the last moment, turning my back to the approaching Peugeot. A motor in the distance, another car approached, I turn to face the headlights. Mais non, I turned back around. I would not make it to the station, but I started to think of some of the SRF affirmations and a chant I remembered to keep going.
A third car was approaching. I took a deep breath, I turned and put out my thumb. Zut alors! The car stopped! I tentatively approached and behind the wheel was a young woman who look about as scared as I did. In my best "I finished French 5 in college" attempt, I asked for a ride to the train station. She agreed. She spoke no English.
When she asked if I was English and I told her, "Non, je suis Americaine, de Californie." She told me that the only place she knew in California was the ashram of Paramahansa Yogananda, as she had read of it in a book, "L'Autobiographie d'un Yogi." She had just come from a Self-Realization Fellowship meeting to which she had to drive many miles from her home. Did I know of him?
I will close this entry by telling you that she did not drive me to the train station. I would have missed the train, anyway. She drove me all the way back to my hotel in Dinan, more than two hours out of her way. We talked spirituality (en francais) all the way, then I invited her up to my room to choose from some of my possessions as a thank you, as she would not accept any francs. I gave her the address of the SRF in Paris and the trifold picture. She gave me a prayer card and a book of SRF chants she had picked up that day.
I don't believe in coincidences.
In 1988 I quit my job with EFHutton Life/1st Capital Life Insurance Company, sold most of what I owned and bought a one way ticket to Europe where I planned to spend my 401(k) savings and as much time as possible soaking up all things European. Among the few things I took with me were the "Autobiography of a Yogi", a small book of SRF affirmations and a trifold with a picture of Yogananda, Jesus Christ and another Indian spiritual leader meant for a home meditation altar.
One day, while in Dinan, France, I decided I needed to go to Mont St. Michel. I checked the train schedules and decided I could do it in a day. Well, if I got on the right trains. I ended up on a milk run train that had me stuck in a train station in Dol-de-Bretagne for hours. By the time I reached the train station closest to Mont St. Michel it was after 8p, I had had no dinner and the buses had stopped running. The last train that would get me back to Dinan would leave at 10:30p. I had come this far, I decided to walk the 5 km to the Mont, not thinking that it was long closed to the public for the evening.
So I walked. And I walked. And I was hungry. Tres faim! As I rounded a corner I saw the Mont in the distance, out on the sea. And I kept walking. It was now after 9p and I had to decide to walk on and miss the last train or turnaround. I was so close!! I kept walking. It didn't seem to be getting any closer. It was almost 9:30p when I realized I would never make it to either the Mont or the train. I decided, as any wise 31 year old single female on a dark road in France would, to hitchhike back to the train station.
A car approached and I started to walk backwards and stick out my thumb, chickening out at the last moment, turning my back to the approaching Peugeot. A motor in the distance, another car approached, I turn to face the headlights. Mais non, I turned back around. I would not make it to the station, but I started to think of some of the SRF affirmations and a chant I remembered to keep going.
A third car was approaching. I took a deep breath, I turned and put out my thumb. Zut alors! The car stopped! I tentatively approached and behind the wheel was a young woman who look about as scared as I did. In my best "I finished French 5 in college" attempt, I asked for a ride to the train station. She agreed. She spoke no English.
When she asked if I was English and I told her, "Non, je suis Americaine, de Californie." She told me that the only place she knew in California was the ashram of Paramahansa Yogananda, as she had read of it in a book, "L'Autobiographie d'un Yogi." She had just come from a Self-Realization Fellowship meeting to which she had to drive many miles from her home. Did I know of him?
I will close this entry by telling you that she did not drive me to the train station. I would have missed the train, anyway. She drove me all the way back to my hotel in Dinan, more than two hours out of her way. We talked spirituality (en francais) all the way, then I invited her up to my room to choose from some of my possessions as a thank you, as she would not accept any francs. I gave her the address of the SRF in Paris and the trifold picture. She gave me a prayer card and a book of SRF chants she had picked up that day.
I don't believe in coincidences.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
You want me to do what?!
What do two $1600 rifles have in common with 80 pieces of luggage and six surfboards?
Give up? Really? Come on.... take a guess!!!
All need to get on a United flight and today I've been asked to figure out how to do each of them. Three different sets of passengers, three different flights.
Why does a famous chef want to take two rifles to Mongolia via South Korea?
What could three people possibly be taking with them to Washington that needs 80 pieces of luggage?
Six surfboards? Seriously? Six?
My job is all about ending hunger, solving world peace and finding a cure for cancer. Except for the days it's not.
Give up? Really? Come on.... take a guess!!!
All need to get on a United flight and today I've been asked to figure out how to do each of them. Three different sets of passengers, three different flights.
Why does a famous chef want to take two rifles to Mongolia via South Korea?
What could three people possibly be taking with them to Washington that needs 80 pieces of luggage?
Six surfboards? Seriously? Six?
My job is all about ending hunger, solving world peace and finding a cure for cancer. Except for the days it's not.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Small world is smaller when you work for an airline
Adventures in travel. It's one of the reasons I work for an airline. Well, it was the only reason I went to work for an airline. It's a lot of what keeps me working for an airline, despite the last several years of doom and gloom.
Our magic carpet. That's what Cameron calls it. Sometimes that carpet flies and sometimes it doesn't.
13 hours to get from LAX to Atlanta? Okay, so some flights left without us but we got to see Maria McWilliams and Renault Banks in LAX. We got to see Sharon Bauserman in Denver. We wouldn't have seen any of them if those flights had gone as planned.
17 hours from Atlanta to LAX? Well, that first flight went smoothly and didn't seen anyone we knew. As we stepped off the plane in Chicago, though... uh oh. There was Maria again. Maria has a year more seniority than I do. She'd been trying to get to LAX all day.
1st flight to LAX for us? We were #32 and 34 out of 68 for ZERO seats. Time to reconnect with old friends. Maria called up David Robinson and I sent out a Facebook SOS, as well as a couple of emails. Hey, if we weren't stuck I wouldn't have talked to Lu or David R or David L! Next flight wasn't any better. No, we were #52 and 53 out of 93. With zero seats available.
Next flight? Oh no. Renault. Renault is retired and he was #30 on the list with no seats. I looked up to see Michael Burny in line for the flight. I was so happy to see him! Not just because I like Michael so much, but he has LESS seniority than I do!!! Someone else I knew would be on the list with a higher number than one of ours. Someone new to hang out with in O'Hare.
No, that wasn't the plan. Michael was on positive space as he happened to plan a sales call in Chicago that day. The same day that everyone else is trying to fly after a holiday. The same day that everyone wants to get to LA for Michael Jackson's funeral. Michael Burny got on the flight.
Lu saved the day with his creativity and we ended up in the last two seats - as David R texted us through the DM countdown - on a flight to Salt Lake City. But our flight was late and we were not going to make the connection on UA SLC-LAX. But WAIT!! The flight to LAX was using the very airplane we just came in on.
And guess who just happened to get the last two seats on that flight to LAX? In First Class?
I hope Renault and Maria got home.
Our magic carpet. That's what Cameron calls it. Sometimes that carpet flies and sometimes it doesn't.
13 hours to get from LAX to Atlanta? Okay, so some flights left without us but we got to see Maria McWilliams and Renault Banks in LAX. We got to see Sharon Bauserman in Denver. We wouldn't have seen any of them if those flights had gone as planned.
17 hours from Atlanta to LAX? Well, that first flight went smoothly and didn't seen anyone we knew. As we stepped off the plane in Chicago, though... uh oh. There was Maria again. Maria has a year more seniority than I do. She'd been trying to get to LAX all day.
1st flight to LAX for us? We were #32 and 34 out of 68 for ZERO seats. Time to reconnect with old friends. Maria called up David Robinson and I sent out a Facebook SOS, as well as a couple of emails. Hey, if we weren't stuck I wouldn't have talked to Lu or David R or David L! Next flight wasn't any better. No, we were #52 and 53 out of 93. With zero seats available.
Next flight? Oh no. Renault. Renault is retired and he was #30 on the list with no seats. I looked up to see Michael Burny in line for the flight. I was so happy to see him! Not just because I like Michael so much, but he has LESS seniority than I do!!! Someone else I knew would be on the list with a higher number than one of ours. Someone new to hang out with in O'Hare.
No, that wasn't the plan. Michael was on positive space as he happened to plan a sales call in Chicago that day. The same day that everyone else is trying to fly after a holiday. The same day that everyone wants to get to LA for Michael Jackson's funeral. Michael Burny got on the flight.
Lu saved the day with his creativity and we ended up in the last two seats - as David R texted us through the DM countdown - on a flight to Salt Lake City. But our flight was late and we were not going to make the connection on UA SLC-LAX. But WAIT!! The flight to LAX was using the very airplane we just came in on.
And guess who just happened to get the last two seats on that flight to LAX? In First Class?
I hope Renault and Maria got home.
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