Getting Put-Together

Last night was my First Place 4 Health meeting. I facilitate the meeting and it is definitely one of the highlights of my week. I love the ladies that are in the group and we are just learning SO much together. It is a sweet time of fellowship.

When I was preparing to start leading this group, I read all of the literature they provide for leaders; information on how to be the most effective leader, etc. One of the things they mention is that you should always take time to look nice and put-together for the meetings. This shows the group that you take the program and time together seriously and will help with confidence in leading. Well, I have taken this to heart.

Since I became a stay-at-home mom a little over a year ago, my personal interaction with people over the age of 5 has dropped significantly. The clothes I wear matter not to my kiddos so getting myself put-together hasn't really been a priority. But I have found it to be so much fun each Wednesday afternoon, to pick out what I will wear and actually take a "good shower." You know, the ones where you do the works--wash hair, condition, shave, exfoliate, etc. I fix my hair, put my make-up on and just get myself put-together.

This is how I looked last night.

I have to say, the theory is true. While I think we can all agree, looks are not everything, they are something. Even in my heaviest days, nearly a year ago, getting dressed up and putting effort into looking my best has played a huge role in my progress. It is just part of the whole idea of taking care of me. We take care of the things we value.

Hopefully you are taking care of you, today. If you haven't already--get off the couch, get a "good shower," put on your make-up and get put-together. Even if you are just working around the house or going to the store. You'll be glad you did.

PS--Anybody ever watch Top Model? In that first picture I think I might be "smiling with my eyes." What do you think?

Weigh In: 4.5 Loss

175.5 lbs

Good news. I'm back!

Back to my lowest weight so far, back to a happy exercise place and back to the eating basics. I set realistic but challenging goals for myself this week and with God's help, I reached those goals.
That sounds so simple. It is.

Oh yeah--Fall is here in Texas. Praise God!!! Although I have a sneaking suspicion we haven't seen the last of the heat, let's go ahead and get the scarves out!

Did I mention...I'm BACK! Yeah baby.

Athena Gold

Kinda sounds like a credit card, doesn't it? Well, that's not what it is. Let me explain...

This weekend I ran in my 4th 5K. It was called Heels and Hills. Cute, right? It is an event all about promoting women's fitness in a non-threatening, non-intimidating environment. Great program.

My friend Kristi and I decided we would do this race together. That is kind of weird because for most of our lives getting together has involved eating food (lots of it) and some type of sedentary activity. But things--they are a-changin'!

I put off registering for the race so long (not because I didn't want to do it, that's just how I roll) that I had to get to the hotel early on Saturday to register. As I was filling out my paperwork I noticed the option to enter the Athena category, for women weighing 150 lbs. or more. You could opt to be in that category or your age bracket.

I thought, well heck, everybody knows my weight...this is a no-brainer. So I signed up for the Athena group. Got all registered, went to see a movie, had dinner and went to bed in a comfy hotel bed of my OWN! The weekend could have ended right there and been perfect, but it gets better...

Here I am early on Sunday morning just before we left the hotel for the race.



The weather was great for running on Sunday morning. I felt so good during the race. I have finally figured out how to pace. I was really concentrating on breathing and I never felt like I was going to die. On the last 400 m I usually feel a little woozy and this time was no exception. I pushed through it and even sped up just a little bit. I finished the race feeling spectacular. I even think I could have run a couple more miles.



Kristi did awesome! I'm sure she will tell her side of the story on her blog in the coming days...

We waited around for a while after the race was over. I really wanted to know my time. The last 5K I ran in 34:19 and I was curious to see if there was any improvement. Finally they announced that the results were posted on the board so we walked over there and this is what I saw:



If you can't see very good let me tell you-- I got First Place in the Athena Division and my time was 32:34. Almost 2 minutes shaved off my June time. I actually got a little teary eyed when Kristi pointed out my name on the list.

The whole thing was kind of surreal. At one point after the race Kristi and I were talking and excited and the profound nature of the moment hit me. I thought, Oh my goodness! What has happened to us?



Something really good. Here's to the new us!

Weigh In: 4.5 lb. Gain

I failed to mention the reason for my "Come to Jesus" meeting. In two weeks I have managed to go from 175.5 back up to 180. Good job, Kee! Not.



Still smilin'.

"Come to Jesus" Meeting

Do you want to hear the truth? Really. I mean, CAN you handle it?

I'm just warning you, I'm about to speak the truth. And some people aren't going to like it. They aren't going to want to hear it and they certainly aren't going to want to face it. They might even tell me I'm wrong. That's fine and dandy. But here it comes...

There is only one way weight loss can happen. You, and I, choose for it to. Plain and simple. If I'm not losing or even worse--I'm gaining--it's because of what I am choosing.

For several months now I have been at a plateau. (quick, get out the violins) It has been hard to deal with and I have shared my frustration via the blog here. I have had nothing but support from my bloggy friends and real-life friends alike. You guys are too kind.

No, I mean you are really too kind. Because I have been choosing this path. It's not some unfortunate thing that is happening to me that is beyond my control. And I am letting people tell me it's okay and I'm too hard on myself, etc. "Just look at your accomplishments!"

Oh yeah, I'm lovin' it!

Awe, I think. That's right. [pats self on back] I really have worked hard. [nodding]I have come so far! Just look how awesome I look compared to when I weighed 229. (Umm, doesn't anything look good compared to a 5'-4" 229lb.er with no make-up and a miserable look on her face? Just checking) I really need to stop beating myself up. I need to allow some time for my body to adjust to all of this weight loss.

Okay seriously? If I were a person on the Biggest Loser saying this crap I would be yelling at me through the TV.

SUCK IT UP YOU BIG LOSER!

I could live with some of these consolations or excuses for a plateau. But we aren't dealing with a plateau. No, this is more like a 4 month desert.

It's is ridiculous. Asinine, actually. The charade is over. The very un-candy coated truth--I have been giving about 10% to my physical activity (some weeks not even that), I have not set any challenging goals for myself, I have lost attention to detail in my food intake. I have forgotten why I am doing this. I have let comfort rule, and buried Truth in the backyard.

Fugetaboutit...

Yeah, ummmmm, that doesn't work. You IDIOT. (Speaking to myself here, but feel free to apply as needed. Usually not this harsh, but drastic times call for drastic measures)

Let me be very clear. I am perfectly fine right now, emotionally speaking. I am not down on myself at all. I don't need anybody to feel sorry for me. I am simply facing the TRUTH of the matter. I am confessing it. That is all. Infact, I am a little giddy about the fire that has apparently been lit under my backside. Thank you, Jesus.

No more of this. There is no reason in the world that I can not begin to see results again and on a weekly basis. I have to choose to do it. And that's what I am choosing.

Hold me to it. You hear me? HOLD me to it.

P.S. I may regret this post in the morning. Yeah, pretty sure.

Party Pictures

Glory's Birthday Party 10-18-10

Last year after my daughter's birtday party, I remember looking at the pictures and wanting to throw up and bawl my eyes out at the same time. I felt so hopeless and you can see it here:





What a differearence a year can make!

White Out Horror

If you have been reading this blog over the past couple of weeks, you just recently got to know me reeeeally well. I talked all about my issues with anxiety. I told you that my anxiety is primarily induced when something is physically wrong with me or my family.

So if you are one of those people who knows all of this about me, then I thought you might find it interesting that this was the problem I was faced with last night:



My soon to be 2 year old with a good coat of White-Out on her lashes. By the time we found her she had managed to paint both sets of toenails and thankfully was just getting started on the eyes.

Several methods were tried, but Vaseline ended up saving the day. She knows that you are supposed to close your eyes when you put on make-up (too bad she doesn't know what actually IS make-up) so the stuff did not get into her eye. Just crazily close and all throughout the lashes.

My mom and mother-in-law must have sensed my distress (although I tried to stay really calm) because they took her to another location, bathed her, medicated her, and removed the White-Out from her eye. She is absolutely fine now.

But can I just say...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Not COOL, Glory. Not cool at all.

A Friend in Need

This is Kelly. She has been one of my closest blog-buddies ever since January when I got started here. I think she was one of my very first followers and I can always count on her for an uplifting comment or email.

She has done a great job with her Journey to a New Me. She has lost 33 lbs! She is a kick-boxing queen and has the legs and backside to prove it! Recently she posted a before picture and I made the comment that she looked 20 years younger now! I hope that wasn't an insult...but see for yourself...

Kelly had surgery yesterday so I just wanted to ask for prayers on her behalf and send some encouragement her way. Go visit Kelly :)

Love you friend! Nothing can keep you down--get well soon!

The End of My Story (& The Beginning)

I began sharing my experience with anxiety and depression last week. (Part 1: Anxiety and Part 2: Depression) With the onset of Fall, all the memories and emotions from that time last year have been trickling back into my thoughts. I hoped it would be therapeutic for me to write it all down.

I also suspected, and boy was I right, that others might be able to relate to my story. Thanks to everyone for the comments. No one is alone in this stuff. It is common and common to overcome. That should help provide hope for us all.

More than anything, though, I wanted to be able realize that I am not in that place anymore. The writing has helped. And what has been amazing is that my Bible study this week could not have been any more tailored to what I am trying to process if I had penned it myself. Hello? Omniscient God, thank you very much.

It is just so crazy how God is creating a tapestry within each of our lives. Do you realize that?! I hope so. That He would care so much about little old me to converge my thoughts, my activities, my studies and my circumstances for my benefit and for His purpose simultaneously--it's just beyond me. And I am so thankful for that mystery. Many times when I am baffled by God, whether in good times or bad, I try to remind myself that I am glad I serve a God that is beyond me. If I could understand Him completely...well, we would all be in trouble! :)

I just want to complete my story by telling you that it does have a happy ending. I am thankful that for whatever reason I understood the seriousness of my condition at the time and took action immediately. Depression is not something to mess around with. I have heard of too many horrible incidences that were the result of untreated or underestimated depression. I was in a clear enough state of mind to know that with my situation, it was time to act.

Even at my lowest point, somehow the Lord helped me to address the problems at hand. There were several. First of all, my excessive bouts of anxiety had led to an imbalance of the chemicals in my brain. This is a medical condition, as explained to me by my doctor. It was an imbalance that needed to be medically restored.

I realize there are some who would say that relying on a medication for such things indicates a weakness on my part and perhaps even a lack of faith. I was probably one of those people at some point in my life. My question is, what would you do if you began to have seizures because of a hormonal imbalance? What if you found out you had high blood pressure and without immediate action to regulate it, you would be at great risk of having a stroke? Would you pray for God's healing? Sure. Would you also take advantage of modern medical advances that He has provided? I hope so.

Had I chosen to rely on God and His Word more in the early stages of my anxiety, perhaps this whole thing could have been avoided. Perhaps it would have never led to the messed up brain stuff. Had I been taking proper care of my body, perhaps my health would have never caused my anxiety. Perhaps. I certainly do not ignore the role my spiritual negligence played in digging this pit. Nor do I ignore the role a lack of care for my physical body played. But in order to get to a point where I could make necessary changes, I had to treat the immediate issue, and for me that was with medication.

I was put on an anti-depressant for several months. I have been off that prescription for a while now and I believe that it did the job of restoring the chemical balance in my brain. I feel like normal (my normal). Now I will continue to do my part to cast my anxiety on Him and trust that He will guard my soul from the despair I felt nearly one year ago.

Recognizing the problem was huge. Crying out to God was even bigger. I mentioned in an earlier post that during this time I made a habit out of getting up early in the mornings, locking myself in the bathroom and reading The Bible. In my FP4H Study today (I'm not kidding how crazy this study is going along with my blog posts!! Insane) the author tells us that in times of depression we must "force feed" our souls the Word of God. It made me think of times when my precious newborn babies wanted to sleep right through feedings, but I knew that I had to make them eat. I had to do whatever it took to get that milk down. Force feeding The Word was really the key to survival for me. Crying out to Him even when I felt like He could not hear was my lifeline. I knew that truly I was the one far away, not Him.

The most important thing is that this whole experience led me to give Christ total control of my life, probably for the first time in my life. I would love to take credit for that, but I can't . The reason I gave Him control was because I had exhausted all my other options. Why is it that we always do that!? Save the best for last?

It also led me to make the decision to take care of this body I've been given. I have never felt more free or more alive. I have never had more joy or more pep in my step. I still do experience anxiety but I have learned ways to deal with it and I am more aware of what is happening now. The fear is in the distant background rather than the forefront. I am also much more confident in the healthier (inside and out) body that I have.

I just want to shout from the roof tops HOW GREAT IS OUR GOD! But since people might worry if I was on a rooftop, I choose to blog :) There really aren't words to say how grateful I am for what happened to me. If you had told me to praise God for the experience when I was sitting on the waxy paper in the doctor's office, while my throat was swelling shut--I might have spit in your face.

But that's why I'm writing this down. Because when the next trial comes along, and I know it will come, I am going to be able to remember in great detail how good my God has been to me. I am going to remember His grace, His mercy, and His deliverance.

I am going to be reminded that if I choose to accept all the good in life, then I am going to need to accept the bad also.

Because it all comes from my Father...my Shepherd. And every single bit of it is for the sole purpose of bringing me to HIM.

Anxiety & Depression: My Story Continued

Part 1: Anxiety

Part 2: Depression

When I left the doctor's office, I was about a 70% convinced that I was really not dying, just experiencing anxiety. Severe anxiety can lead to panic attacks which is what I was experiencing on the drive to the doctors office. (Sensation of throat closing in, hyperventilation) I mean, all the pieces fit, but there was still a tiny piece of me that wasn't buying it yet. But the more I thought about it (okay, and googled it) the more it made sense.

I started taking my Xanax, crazy pills I called them. They were helpful. About every 12 hours I would go into a little panic and then I would pop a pill. The plan was to see if they were helping and if they were then we would discuss a more long term medication. They did help in the way my doctor said they would. It was like drinking a couple of beers. Just something to take the edge off. But the underlying anxiety was not going away.

Anxiety can cause the body to do some pretty freaky things. For starters, it can cause the tingly feeling, also described as a pins and needles feeling. It can cause twitching in your eyes. It can cause severe headaches. It can cause a sensation in the back of your throat that feels like there is a lump there. These are just a few of the disconcerting symptoms I experienced at some point. Not good for someone who already has a heightened awareness of her physical ailments and each one seems to indicate impending death. More anxiety!

Before the new prescription had a chance to get into my system, I actually hit rock bottom. By this time, the anxiety had been there for so long it was beginning to mess with my brain. The way I understand it, and this is a very watered-down explanation, is that our bodies are equipped to deal with some stress. Some stress. But we are not equipped to deal with a lot of it over extended periods of time.

There is the thing that happens when a truck suddenly falls on a mother's first born and she is miraculously able to lift the vehicle and save the child. That's normal and that's supposed to happen, once in a while.

But for a person with anxiety, that thing happens all the time. Every time I felt a pain or read some medical article, that would be my reaction. My heart would pound, I would break out in cold sweats and basically I would hyperventilate. Over and over again. During the worst of it, this was happening several times a day. My body never had time to recover before it went back into the fight or flight mode again. This really messes with chemicals in the brain and is what can sometimes lead to depression.

For me, that is what happened. I recognized the depression right away. I had experienced post-partum depression with both of my children. It lasted for a couple of weeks. Maybe it was just the "baby blues" but whatever you want to call it, it wasn't fun. And this was worse. Like 10 times worse. Being depressed is literally the worst thing ever. It is a concept not easily grasped by someone who has never experienced it.

I constantly worried about the fact that I was worrying about worrying. There were times all I could do was stare at something. There were tears. So many tears. Tears that I couldn't explain. One minute I would be okay and the next I was like a different person. I felt hopeless. I felt like my life could never be the way it had been. I wanted to literally climb out of my body so I wouldn't have to feel what I was feeling anymore. My poor husband had no idea what was going on. And neither did I. I guess you could say I was at my wits end.

Psalms 107: 25-27
For he spoke and stirred up a tempest that lifted high the waves. They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths; in their peril their courage melted away. They reeled and staggered like drunken men; they were at their wits’ end.

I was definitely in the depths. Courage gone. Incapacitated, like a drunk. The waves were all around me. This description is so fitting because I repeatedly had this vision of myself standing on something very tiny and unstable in the middle of a big body of water with danger all around me. I was in a place that was far, far away from God, but somewhere in me I knew that He was the only answer to my suffering.

Morning after morning I would get up extremely early (got very little sleep during this time), head straight to the bathroom and lock the door. I put a small lamp in there so that I could read my Bible in relative darkness. I read and read. Especially in the Psalms. I had never understood what the guy's problem was. He was always crying out "Help me!" or "Can't you hear me? When are you going to answer me, Lord!" I had never felt like my Heavenly Father couldn't hear me. Until then. My prayers seemed to be hitting a hard ceiling and falling right back down. I was SO frustrated. And scared. My situation seemed utterly desperate.

Even though it seemed futile at the time, I stuck with what I knew (what had been taught to me my whole life) and kept crying out to God Almighty.

Psalms 107:28-30
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed. They were glad when it grew calm, and he guided them to their desired haven.

to be continued

Weigh In: 1.5 lb. Loss

175.5

This chart pretty much says it all. It explains my frustration in recent posts. Frustration for which I am slightly ashamed. I don't want to be a Downer. I am truly grateful for the success I have had so far. The chart shows that also.

Notice the blue line is aiming downward once again. Surprise, surprise! I weighed 175.5 today. I'm not gonna lie. I was not excited about getting on the scale this morning. I had no idea what I was going to say about another week at the same weight. But then there was a loss. Well blow me down!

Sometimes I kind of wish I had kept my blog a secret. Just a private journal for my thoughts. You know, there are down times when you need to write about stuff that isn't exactly something you want your next door neighbor to know. (I don't know my neighbor, but I wouldn't be surprised if she read my blog. It's a small town and things get around). Some things are embarrassing. And I'm not even talking about poop and stuff like that. I could care less about talking about that stuff.

No. I'm talking about the failure stuff. The falling off the wagon stuff. The confessional stuff. The whiny stuff. That's the kind of stuff that's not fun to share.

But then when I step back and take an objective look I realize that this is precisely what is responsible for my success thus far. Truthfulness. Openness. Realness. These things are essential. I may not like writing sometimes and you may get tired of reading sometimes but this is it. The good, the bad and the redundant. The whining is here to stay, too, I'm afraid.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Anxiety & Depression: My Story

According to the Center for Disease Control website, there is a strong connection between anxiety, depression and obesity. In a recent study of Americans with an anxiety/depression diagnosis, 35.2% were obese and 42% were physically inactive. These statistics are too startling to be ignored.

I assume that many reading here today are obese and possibly lacking in the physical activity department. According to these statistics, it is likely that many are struggling with anxiety and/or depression, as well. By telling my story, I hope to bring awareness, a little education and more than anything--hope for those who are now where I have been. This is as REAL as I've ever been...

Part 1

Anxiety

Christmas Eve has always been one of my favorite days of the year. A super happy time. This past year was different. I thought I was dying.

By the end of a day full of eating, present opening and even a beautiful snowfall, my arm was tingling and felt as if it was "asleep." I stayed up the entire night thinking that I was having a stroke. By morning, my other arm and legs were beginning to feel that way as well. I just knew that I had only a few hours to live. Should I watch the kids open presents for the last time or head to the ER? This was my mind.

Rewind about 20 years.

As a child I was always afraid of being sick; going to the doctor. I had experienced a reoccurring illness at a very young age. I remember having to endure invasive tests and procedures over an extended period of time and no one being able to figure out what was wrong with me. It was a lot for a 7 year old to absorb, both physically and emotionally.

I was finally diagnosed with something and the illness went away, but the psychological damage was already done. As I grew up I would always think that every little thing that was slightly off with me physically-- a scratch, a bruise, a bump-- must mean that there was something terribly wrong with me. I never wanted to go to the doctor because I was afraid of what we would find out. Totally irrational. But apparently a very common reaction after a serious childhood illness.

Incidentally, it was during this time of anxiety as a child that I began to turn to food for comfort. I hated to be alone at night. I could kill two birds with one stone by staying with my grandparents. At their house I could sleep in the bed with them and eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I equated their house with safety and comfort and I would go there every chance I got.

Thankfully I have been relatively healthy throughout most of my life. I remember a few times in high school that I thought I was dying, but other than that I managed pretty well. It wasn't until last year as I reached a weight that was 100 pounds over my recommended range that health became an issue once again.

In October I was stricken with unbearable stomach pains that kept me doubled over for 3 days. Afraid to go to the doctor, sure that I would find out I had cancer, I chose to suffer. The abdominal pain was bad but what was going on in my head was excruciating. I put off going to the doctor until finally my symptoms eased up a bit. It turned out to be something minor.

In November both my kids and myself were constantly sick. Every time one of them was having difficulty breathing or my throat started to hurt, I went into panic mode. You see, this weird form of hypochondria extends to my children as well. The common cold translated to pneumonia in my mind. Between both children, our insurance records indicate that we went to the doctor no less than 13 times in the month of November. I would plan for my husband to be the one to take the kids. Bless his heart for willingly doing what many dads are never even asked to do. The agony of waiting to hear their diagnosis was more than I could take on several levels. The fear would cause me physical sickness and pain.

By Thanksgiving I was near a breaking point, but had no idea.

The week leading up to Christmas brought me an early gift. Cramps. Severe cramps that felt like the menstrual variety but weren't. I self-diagnosed the pain as ovarian cancer. That had to be it. I just remember becoming so extremely aware of the insides of my body that I could not concentrate on anything else. Every little twitch, pain, cramp...brought on more of the hysteria.

Christmas Eve was not particularly stressful. It was a beautiful snowy day, unusual for Texas. We had been to see both sides of the family and enjoyed fellowship and food with our loved ones. For the most part the cramps had subsided and I wasn't thinking about it too much. I had just opened my last present around 10:00 pm when the warm tingle began to creep up my right arm. It felt like my arm was asleep but there was no reason for that to be so. I had just been sitting there normal.

Immediately my heart began pounding. A stroke, I thought. I am going to be 29 when I die of a stroke on Christmas Eve.

We got home and I went to lay down. Justin had to put the kids down and lay all the presents out by himself. He just looked at me like I was crazy. I knew I must seem crazy, but I also knew what I felt in my arm. By the middle of the night my other arm was doing the same thing. This sent me into even more of a panic. I drifted in and out of sleep for a couple of hours but one time I woke up and realized that my right leg was tingling also.

Once the decision was made to take me to the ER, it was almost as if I had resigned to the fact that I was going to die. I had let go of the stroke theory. That would have killed me already. By this time I believed I had a brain tumor that was encroaching on my spine and affecting my central nervous system.

I sat in the ER for about 3 hours only to be told I had a pinched nerve in my neck. I was given a muscle relaxer, an anti-inflammatory drug and sent home. I really wanted to believe this was it, but I knew that wasn't what was wrong with me. I'm not a doctor or anything but I knew a pinched nerve on my right side wasn't likely to affect both arms and legs. But I took the meds and tried to believe I was okay.

After a few days on the meds and no change, I began to worry more. I knew they were wrong. My mind began to wander to dark places and I was panicing. At one point I could feel the tingly sensation in my cheeks, temples, and ears. I freaked.

I really and truly believed I was dying. Or I would not have been the one to call and make a doctor's appointment with my primary care doctor. As we drove into town to see him, my throat began to swell, or so it seemed. I thought I was not going to be able to breathe for much longer.

My Grey's Anatomy-educated guess was that the brain tumor was at the point where my neck and spine met. It was growing so exponentially fast that it was literally suffocating me as we drove. I thought about telling Justin to just keep on going to an ER but decided an ambulance could take me from the Dr. office as soon as he diagnosed me. I knew that I would be wheeled in to surgery immediately and I knew there was a good chance I wouldn't make it. I remember thanking God for giving me that Christmas with my children...

As I sat on the waxy paper in the doctors office, I could hear the tick-tock of the clock so loudly it hurt my ears. Soon the doc walked in. He gave a surprised glance at Justin (like dude, why are you here, too?) and I remember being so annoyed that he asked him about a football game out come. They discussed it. Seriously! Right there in front of me as I was being choked by my neck tumor.

So he did a neurological exam, asked me an extensive line of questions. Then he said the words that shocked the pants off me. He said, "Keelie, your symptoms are indicative of someone with anxiety."

COME AGAIN?

In my mind I was trying to process that. He asked if I had been under any unusual stress lately? "No," was my expedient reply. "Not that I can think of." And truthfully--I couldn't. I didn't realize that my level of anxiety was different from any other mother or person. I thought it was normal to be in a constant state of panic and fright.

He assured me that I had no signs of any neurological problems, no MS, no tumors and wrote me a temporary prescription for Xanax. We walked back out to the car. I was in shock. I was trying to comprehend what he had just told me. I was thinking that was ridiculous. Absurd. I was looking at my diagnosis sheet skeptically reading the words GAD-Generalized Anxiety Disorder and that's when I noticed it.

The tingling sensation was gone. Completely. Not in my arms, legs, face, nowhere. And I could breathe just fine.

That's weird. The tumor must be...shrinking?

Oh. Wait.

Part 2

Monday Night Whine

Foreign objects: collar bones

This sight caught me off guard when I looked in my rear view mirror the other day! It was weird--like I was looking at someone else in the mirror. Collarbones, unearthed. Very cool.

I am seriously considering switching to a monthly weigh in on the blog rather than a weekly weigh in. I am still going to be weighing in weekly at my meetings and likely will continue weighing in daily at home. But I guess I am just tired of trying to come up with something to say every week when I gain or stay the same. I don't know. Now that I typed that it sounds pretty dumb. Okay....so I guess I will keep doing the weekly thing.

Ugh.

Can you sense the disgust and frustration in my writing voice here? No? I am doing a good job of disguising it then. I am having another one of my hormonal moments. I am SO frustrated. I know I've come so far and all that but UGHH! Ya know?

I have been stagnant on the scale all summer. Before that, 50 pounds seemed to melt off me like butter in a microwave. Effortless. Well, it wasn't without effort but I know I wasn't trying this hard then. So what gives? Am I going to average a .2 loss per month and take the next 25 years to lose the back 50? That's what it feels like and that is making me VERY tired.

But then again, what else can I do? I'm not going to roll over and die. I'm not going to eat like a pig. Which I have kind of been doing for the past couple of days. I know. Dumb. Foolish. And it makes me feel horrible.

So if it takes me 25 years I will do this. In fact, I suppose I will delight in the 25 years and the ones after that if I am so blessed. I will continue to cry out to the Lord and He will continue to deliver me. That's the little dance we do. I will just have to put up with His sovereignty even when it doesn't fit into my time frame. *wink*

After all, you can see my collar bones. And you couldn't 9 months ago.

A Week of Greatness

How is it that my BABY boy turned 5 this week? He is in school. He is big. I'm not necessarily excited that he is growing so fast but that he is growing period and healthy and happy--for that I am grateful.

I haven't mentioned it here, but I just recently started a design business with a friend. This has always been my dream and the fact that one teeny weeny step has been taken toward that dream is almost unbelievable to me. This weekend some of my designs are for sale at a local craft market. So exciting!

I'm not sure why I'm letting this be buried in the middle of the post (and not a post of it's own) but I officially am a SIZE 12! I have been a 14 forever and yesterday I tried on 12's in 5 different brands, just to be sure. They all fit and looked good. I celebrated with a pair of black skinny jeans. Pictures soon to follow.

Another great thing about this week is that a new session of First Place for Health began. I love the feeling of the clean slate. I have a great group of ladies to celebrate with this session. The Power of Hope is our theme and it could not have come at a better time for me.

Another great thing that happened--remember I served on a jury a couple of weeks ago? I posted about the profound impact it had on me. I am still thinking about it on a daily basis...wondering about the man I decided was guilty. Well, yesterday I received a letter in the mail from the prosecuting attorney letting me know that the man had FULLY CONFESSED to the crime at his sentencing! I was so relieved. I'm know the justice system isn't flawless but dang if it didn't work this time!

I hope you all have had a great week, too and that the greatness will just continue right on into a long weekend!

Weigh In: Maintenance

177 lbs.

Are. You. Kidding. Me?

I have a ritual of weighing every morning. It keeps me in check. It has never caused a problem for me until this week. On Monday morning I hopped on and this is what I saw:



I was so excited when I saw this! I actually thought I had broken out of OBESE and into OVERWEIGHT so that is why I took the picture. Upon further research I found that I need to be at 174 to no longer be obese so I couldn't do the big celebratory post that I wanted. But I thought SURELY! Surely with this weight on Monday I would be down another pound by today.

Nope. 177 pops up like a nasty zit on your wedding day.

Ahhh. Not worth stressing over. But it does go to show you how crazy our bodies are. I can't think of any reason why my body would be retaining water or anything like that. I also have been running everyday and eating as close to perfect as this red head gets. Not sure what the heck is going on...

Let's end on a happy note, shall we? I love this comparison. The before is the very first "weigh in" picture I ever took specifically for the blog. This is the difference in Obese and *Almost* NOT Obese.

We've come a long way, baby!