Weight -- Update!

On Friday, August 1, 2008, I achieved an 80 pound weight loss. (In a year’s time frame.) That’s E I G H T Y — 80 pounds of weight gone from off my body!!! That’s about the weight of a ten year old child. I’ve lost a ten year old!!! I should be ecstatic, elated, overjoyed, delighted, happy, thrilled, jumping for joy. So why, you might ask, am I crying?? Why do I shed bitter tears? Why am I depressed and despondent over losing E I G H T Y pounds?


Why---because I don’t yet look like Kate Moss or Lara Flynn Boyle?







Well I’ll tell you why I started to cry and get depressed. I was feeling light and fluffy with my new 1X shirt and shorts and asked my husband Tim to take some photos of me in the new slimmer version of my body. However, when I downloaded the pictures and looked at them—reality hit me like a ton of bricks or a ton of In-N-Out Burgers, (which I’ve probably consumed over my life time). I didn’t look like Kate Moss or Lara Flynn Boyle. No indeed. I still looked more like Kristie Alley or Momma Cass. I really took a hit to my self image.

See there is this person inside me that dictates how I view myself. You know that nagging little voice that tells you to mind your own business when you want to step in and correct your friend. Well that little girl inside my fat “suit” is still seventeen years old, weighs about 105 pounds and is the epitome of beauty and grace. It always amazed me when I passed a mirror and saw the image that was reflected back to me, I didn’t recognize that fat person. See in my mind, I wasn’t fat. I would stare in horror and disgust at the rotund woman in the mirror. Could that overly round, morbidly obese, dumpy looking person really be me? My inner slender teenager said no!

So now I’m asking myself what difference did an eighty pound weight loss make? Why do I feel like a failure even after so many people have congratulated me on my success? Why, why, why? Well because I have sooooo much more weight to lose. Probably another one hundred pounds or so before I can honestly say I’ve arrived, I actually like the person staring back at me from the mirror. The reality of those photos brought me up short and broke my (much skinner) heart.

Monika, my exercises buddy, told me to stop and think about what I’ve actually accomplished in the last year and take specific notice of the changes I’ve made. So I thought I’d make a list. Now this is not a bragging session. So I don’t want you to think I’m boosting. I just wanted to make myself feel better. So let’s see.

1. I can see my toes. This may not be a big deal for you, but for me it was monumental.
2. I had to buy smaller shoes. Who’d a thought that! I went from a man’s size nine extra wide to a women’s eight.
3. I have lost eight inches off my stomach, six inches off my bust, seven inches off my butt, similar amounts off of my arms, legs and so forth.
4. I can get on the floor at the gym and bring my leg to my chest. (No obstructions.)
5. I can bend over and touch my toes and put my hand flat on the ground, no bent knees.
6. I don’t get out of breath when I walk.
7. I can exercise for two hours and not fell overly tired.
8. I can run up stadium stairs without much effort. (I did this while on vacation at Utah State University. Never in my wildest dreams could I see me doing something like that.)
9. I went from a size 4X to a size 1X and sometimes wear an XL t-shirt.
10. My face is thinner and I’ve lost a chin.
11. I went from a size 50DD bra to a 42D.
12. I don’t get respiratory illnesses as frequently as I once did. I actually haven't had bronchitis for two years.
13. My doctor lowered my prescriptions pills from three each for diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol to one pill for each.
14. I get by on about six hours of sleep.
15. I no longer watch endless hours of TV and fall asleep in the reclining chair.
Finally,
16. You’ll have to ask my husband about the best change of all. (I’m not spilling the beans on that change. Do you see my red face? No. Good!)

Well I don’t leap tall buildings with a single bound or stop bullets with my teeth, but I’m changing. Whether my photos show that in any great detail, or not, I feel a change. And that’s motivation in itself. Yes, I still have a lot of weight to lose, but then don’t we all have something we need to overcome. It’s just making the decision to eat right, exercise all over again every single day from now until eternity. I’ll always be a weight watcher, always be a food addict and always have to be careful not to lose control. But in the end it’s just like Lorel says, “I’m worth it!”

A vampire in love with a human--Okay I'll Bite!

I know I'm coming a little bit late to the blood bath that is known as the Twilight Novel Series, three books written by Stephenie Meyer. I finally found them. It only took me three years to discover them. I finally saw the three books on sale at Target and snuck in behind three twittering teen-aged girls who were ogling over them and snagged the last copy of Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse. I admit that at first the thought of reading a book about vampires put me off. Secondly, I didn't think I'd enjoy a book written for the teen-aged set.

But, then I read it. I was sucked in, bitten by a splendid tale of teen-aged angst, first love and blood sucking vampires. What fun!
The story is told from the perspective of a tormented yet quirky, accident prone, unsophisticated and guileless seventeen year old girl, Bella, who moves from Phoenix to live with her divorced father in Forks, Washington. Watching the story unfold through her eyes, I was drawn back to my own teenage years. I remembered vividly what it was like to be the new girl in a strange high school. I remember those pressures of trying to fit in, to be acceptable to the populous and to find that first blood-boiling heart-stopping love. It brought back memories of humiliation and apprehension as well as my own thirst for acceptance and romance. I could almost imagine myself as Bella.

Bella discovers a group of teenagers that are unlike any of the other "normal" crowd of teenagers at her high school and a fascination begins with one angelic-like figure named Edward. Her fascination turns to obsession and when a friend from the Indian reservation intimates that Edward is part of a group called the "Cold Ones", Bella soon discovers for herself that Edward and his family are--bloodthirsty vampires!

But does this information scare Bella? Certainly not! When she should have run screaming for her life, she falls in love with this enigmatic, perfect, devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful boy-man-old guy. Really, really old guy. She asks him how old he is and he responds by telling her he's seventeen. Then she has the courage to ask him how long he's been seventeen. And he replies, a very long time.

I am so thankful that I came to the blood lust obsession late. Now I can read all the books at one time instead of waiting breathless, dripping in gory anxious agony waiting for the next installment to be written and printed. I raced through Twilight and New Moon faster than Edward can race through the forest with Bella on his back. Now I'm starting Eclipse. On Saturday, August 2, the last book in the series hits the stores, Breaking Dawn. How will it end? Boy I'm so thirsty to find out, I may just have to go on a hunt! At least to Costco to pick up the next book.

I remember my first love in high school. I can picture him now. Not unlike the unflinching stunning beauty of Edward, this young man may not have had pale cold skin, or amber eyes, or run like a gazelle, but the shock to my system whenever he was near was like having my life sustaining blood drained out of me and my heart removed from my chest. I felt like an undead creature when I was around him. Gorgeous, athletic, divertingly handsome, this young man held such a fascination for me that I followed him around like a love sick puppy dog for four years.

When he graduated from the junior college we attended together and disappeared, I felt the exact same empty hole in the chest pain that Bella experienced. Even now, some thirty three years later, I can picture this young man in my mind, tall, handsome, with exquisitely bright blue eyes and tussled reddish brown hair smiling at me with straight white teeth amidst the glow of his scarlet cheeks that flamed when he was engaged in activities. I even dream of him still. Always running toward him, wanting him to stay with me. Wanting him to love me with an eternal never-ending love. But that's a story for another time and has nothing to do with reality.

I digress. Back to Edward and Bella. My only heart stopping blood curdling fear is that when the Twilight movie opens on 12-12-08, that the Edward and Bella characters I have already seen clearly in my mind, won't be portrayed on the screen sufficiently for my taste. From the movie trailer, I don't get a really good image of either of them. See if you agree.



I also hope that the producers of the movie will stick to the essence of the book and not take too much creative license with the story line. For those of us who read the books, we've already seen the movie in our minds and know Edward and Bella intimately.

If you haven't read the Twilight series, you should, even if nothing more than for the entertainment value. You may find the idea of a human girl in love with a vampire boy that thirsts for her blood repugnant. I did. But after reading the first two books, what stood out the most was the relationship between the two main characters. The taste of love budding for the first time for both of them and the excruciating and intense love story that grips your heart and doesn't let up through dangers and threats of blood shedding and death are extremely exciting.

But if you don't lose your soul to Edward and Bella after reading the books, then you really aren't an imaginative fanciful romantic who believes in the whimsical and mythical spell of love that can transcend boundaries of unthinkable differences. Like the trailer says, "Forbidden fruit if the most sweet." Go on, try it, taste it, thirst for it.

Family---It's About Time!

That statement--Family, It's about time can mean two different things. It can mean that families take a considerable amount of time to maintain, cherish and nurture or it can mean it's about time we made our families a priority. I like to think it means both options should be considered.

Family--we all come from a family. We're involved in a family of some sort right now. Whether we have the traditional family--consisting of a mother, father and several children or not, it doesn't matter. We are surrounded, if we're lucky enough, with people we love and consider to be part of our family.

My family is very important to me. They are part of me. Spiritually, emotionally and physically. Physically, I inherited my nose from my father, my facial features from my mother's side of the family and my blue eyes, from Heaven knows who, because my parents both have dark eyes. Those are my physical inheritances from my parents.

Spiritually, I was taught in the religion of my parents. I was instructed at an early age about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and developed through the faith and testimony of my parents, to believe and follow the teachings that would bring me the most joy in my life. I will be forever grateful for their love and faith.

Emotionally, I was raised with four older brothers. Scott, Reed, Dale and David Olsen. They taught me a love of country, sports and the great outdoors as well as a respect for nature. I'd like to say we were the most obedient and respectful children in the world, but that wouldn't be the complete and honest truth. We had our problems and challenges. Happy times and sad. Life was not idyllic, but I wouldn't change those experiences for the world.



Through the long season of my parent's marriage, some 152 people have come to be called members of their family. Some of those people have left the family due to divorce and others were added over time due to marriages to individuals who already had children or their own. But all were adopted in, loved and considered members of the Paul and Helen Olsen Family. Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and even great-great-grandchildren have graced my father’s family. What a great heritage! What a great posterity!

I guess I'm just a little proud and boastful of my family. I love my family. That's why I spend my vacations visiting with my family. My husband Tim and I just got back from a trip to Utah where we attended two family reunions. One for my father's family and one for my mother's family. We spent the time renewing and strengthening family ties and enjoying the company of extended family. It's always a pleasure to see new families being added to the fold with new babies born. It's a testimony to me that people have faith in the human family of man.

As time goes by, family members die and leave us. My mother passed away December of 2005. It was a tremendous blow to me and my family. Of her family of seven children, only three brothers remain. In my father's family of nine children, six siblings are still living. Two children are missing from this photo on the right.) Pictured are my father, Paul Olsen, his sisters: Lois and Zola and his brother Larry. Missing from the reunion are my dad's brothers Frank and Roger.

Soon the older generation will be gone and I and my brothers will be the older generation. But that's as it should be. Death is inevitable. We just live our lives and pray that our children will remember the legacy of love we tried to leave with them and hope they will pass that same legacy on to their children.

What ever your family situation may be, I only hope that you will take advantage of the time you have with your family to love and cherish them. We never know when they will no longer be with us. And what a shame to waste even one precious second being mad at them or of leaving forgiveness until it's too late. Families are about time--taking the time to relish these precious, finite relationships and consider taking the time to do more to hold them close.

I just hope you will consider your own family. Time is passing--

Food and diet are four letter words...!

Adding insult to injury, realizing that I had an addiction--to food that is. I struggled long and hard to find a "diet" that would work for me. As a child I was taken to fat doctors, pumped full of pills, shots and the latest crazy diet. They'd work for a while, then when I ate something off the diet, the insane cycle would start again. I'd berate myself and jump off the track all together.

As a teenager I did Weight Watchers. It was rough. The recipes were gross and the meetings sappy. I think I may have dropped ffifteen pounds after a long period of time, only to find them again when I quit. Then my doctor introduced amphetamines. Wow! Man! Heavy stuff....! This is good sh%$...! I lost tons of weight had jumbled nerves and was freaked all the time, but I got down to 112. Once they outlawed the lovely little pills, I puffed up.

College brought exercising as a college course. I actually considered being one of the little exercise bunnies with the firm abs and tight buns. I approached my exercise leader, a woman with a body like a goddess, who explained that I still needed to loss another 35 pounds to qualify to be a bunny. Curse my stupidity now, I felt it too much of a challenge and let my addiction have it's way with me. Boom! 200pounds, well maybe a little more.

After college---work. I drove up the scales topping out at 225. I received a call to serve a mission for my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Independence, Missouri. Walking all over Kansas and Nebraska helped me drop 80 pounds. Now I'm 145.

Now I'm home and looking to get married. Still more weight comes off. I join a program. Drop 11 pounds in a week. (The food was disgusting. Gag me with a spoon!) Got married, got pregnant, got sick, gave birth. Surprisingly I was the same weight when I delivered my son as when I got pregnant. Nice surprise!

New son, new marriage, new experience. I don't want to get pregnant again. New problem. I eat like there's no tomorrow. Gain 153 pounds. No more pregnancies!

Food was my friend, my companion, my lover, my temptor, my jailer. Harsh. No I consoled myself with food. Going out on a date, we ate. Being with family, we ate. Go to a church party, we ate. Going on vacation, we ate. I can tell you every vacation we've ever been on by the restaurants we ate at, from the Spaghetti Factory in Honolulu to the Three Crabs in Squim, Washington to Dan Mario's restaurant in Orlando, Florida, and a little closer to home, a buffet in Salt Lake City. Boy those are great memories. Mmmmm!

Twenty five years later, I believe I have started a diet on Monday mornings, done a little exercising, thought positive and starved myself about as many times as McDonald's has fries. Millions and millions served.

My husband lovingly told me I had an attitude problem. What attitude?! Who wouldn't be cheery, happy, delighted, ecstatic, tickled pink or bursting with joy with an overblown, morbidly obese body that won't walk properly, has to buy two plane tickets or has to have one of those perky female ride operators at Disneyland call loudly for the seat belt extender because "fatty" in #3 can't fasten her saftey belt. I just told him, "Hey, buddy, I'm a realist!"

So what changed? When did I make the decision I'd had enough? When did exercise become a part of me like a thirst that can't be quenched or a hunger not sated? Where was the shove that pushed me through the door of a Weight Watcher's meeting again and making that work for me. He$#... if I know. (Excuse my Mormon French, I'm from Utah!)

There was not one single defining moment that sticks out in my mind, but a series of steps along a very, very, very, very long path. Sometimes it was really hard to keep going. Like when I had lost about 50 pounds and a good friend of mine told me that she didn't notice any weight loss because I only wore moo-moo's. Ouch! Pow! Zowie! (A little Batman lingo!) Boy did that smart! And to prove to her and everyone else that I was on my way, I lost another 20 pounds. Now it shows, she says.

So to end this rambling on a good note, I am still on the journey. I'm still losing weight. I still exercise six days a week. My body aches. It's still so very hard, you have no idea how hard it is. But that's part of the journey too.

Married--Without a single date! (Beat that!)

Tim and I never dated before we got married. Saying that even now makes me laugh. Tim and I both grew up around the Covina, California area, but attended different high schools. We belonged to the same church and had seen each other once or twice at different church events. I was the same age as his older sister Patti and never thought of Tim other than as an annoying little brother who was a little geeky and awkward.

We attended the same college but at different times. Tim left the country to live in Central America for two years while I worked at a company in the City of Industry after graduation from college. I developed a best friend who also worked for the same company. She and I did everything together. We had a deep love for the Dodgers and often would ditch work and attend day games. Her name was Susan C.

When I got bored with work, I decided to leave the state for a time and went to live in Kansas and Nebraska. I didn’t find myself in either state, but it was there I fell in love for the first time.

He was a Lieutenant in the Air Force. He worked for the Strategic Air Command in Omaha. I had never felt such passion for a man before in my life. It was heady stuff. His name was Michael D. I had visions of marrying him, moving with him all over the world and living happily ever after. But that was not to be.

Full of hurt and frustration about not being able to continued to pursue a relationship with Michael at that time because of his commitments and mine, I finally went home to San Dimas, where my parents were living at the time. Michael and I corresponded for a while, then I received a marriage announcement from him and was devastated.

My best friend Susan lived in San Dimas. I think she was a little jealous of my time spent away from her because our friendship always seemed a little strained after that. In 1980, Tim purchased his parents home in San Dimas and had moved there and before I returned home from Omaha. Susan and Tim were dating. In fact, on the second day of my return from Omaha, Susan felt sorry for me and invited me along on her and Tim’s date to Disneyland. It was a wonderful night, at least for Tim and me. We had so much in common as we had both moved away from home for a time of self discovery and learning. We talked the entire time comparing our journeys. Susan sat in the front of the car next to Tim in a huff. For the next couple of months, the three of us did all kinds of activities together. We went to the movies, the beach, church activities and parties as a threesome. Tim and I always had plenty to talk about and Susan would most likely endure the evening with a scowl on her face.

Upon my return from Omaha, my good friend Debbie R. got me a job at a furniture manufacturer in the City of Industry and I started work as a secretary to the credit manager. It was a job I really loved. It gave me plenty of time to flirt with the gorgeous salesmen who worked there. The personnel manager knew I was a Dodger fan and offered me box seats for a game.

Now normally, I would have jumped at the opportunity to invite Susan along with me to a Dodger game. She and I were big fans. But for some reason I called Tim on the phone and invited him. He said he would have to meet me there because he didn’t want to come home to San Dimas from North Hollywood, where he was working at the time, and go all the way back to Los Angeles. About the third inning of a rather boring game, the Dodgers were behind as usual, Tim informs me that he had sent Susan a dozen roses and confessed his love for her that very day. My heart felt like it had torn right out of my chest, ripped in two and had the two halves strewn about on the hard cement floor of the stadium. I fiddled with my program and drew a little broken heart on it surrounded by little tear drops. I had no idea that Tim noticed my little drawing and it caused him to think about me and wonder. I left the game in the sixth inning.

The next day was a Saturday and I busied myself cleaning up my mother’s home. Tim called on the phone and wanted to talk. I was curious as to what he wanted, so I invited him over. I was dressed in my shabby work clothes and covered in dust and dirt when he arrived. Sitting down on my couch he gently asked me why I had drawn the little broken heart on my program. I struggled to find the right words to tell him that I loved him. But as we sat there together, and compared our lives, our goals and dreams, he confessed that he felt the same way about me.

Sunday he proposed to me over my mother’s roast beef dinner and in two months, on July 10, 1983, we were married. Oh, by the way, we named our only son Michael!

How Carol got her groove back

Motivation. Where do you find your motivation? I’ve been searching for the key to unlock the door to motivation in my own life for almost 53 years. Only 53 years because that’s how old I am. Wow! When it was ten and my mom 50 I thought she was almost dead. Now that I’m in my fifties, it doesn’t seem so old.

Anyway back to motivation. As I look back over my last year’s journey into exercise and losing weight, I can’t quite put my finger on the motivation that pushed me to walk into Contours in Camarillo and sign up. Was there a single moment that I decided in my head to add exercise back into my life. Was it the fact that I’d come home every night from work and collapse into my easy chair and watch endless hours of mindless TV? Was it the fact that I started suffering from panic attacks and let fear rule my life? Or was I over saturated with medications for diabetes, high blood pressure, cholesterol and heart problems or the fact that I was losing hair and gaining pounds from the meds? Looking back now, I’d have to say no. Those things were horrible but not enough to motivate me to take the first step towards better health.

When I first moved to Camarillo, I used to go to the water aerobics class taught at Pleasant Valley pool. I enjoyed that. Didn’t lose much weight, but I didn’t gain any either. Then I started working and the four hours it took to drive to the pool, change, exercise, drive home shower and dress for work had to be put aside. So I went to work and gained weight. I went from 278 to 308 in nothing flat. I attribute a lot of that weight gain to a medication for blood sugar I was taking. But I was not in control of the things that entered my mouth either.

I had some dear friends, Alice, Martha and Marty who were losing weight and toning by going to Contours gym, so I think that helped motivate me. They were an inspiration to me. So on February 20, 2007 I walked into the door of Contours and signed up with Judy, a tiny lady with a great capacity for caring. I trained a 6 a.m. and learned that Sonja Sharp owned the gym. She was a great teacher and motivator. I owe a great deal of thanks to Sonja.

Then I met the six to eight a.m. group. A more wonderful group of ladies could not be found anywhere. I express my deep appreciation to them for their continuing support and encouraging me in my weight loss journey. Monika, was our ring leader from six to eight. I became fast friends with Murielle, Phyllis, Ann, Donna, Claire and others like, Sue, Sara Jane, Leslie, and another Carol. I know I’m forgetting someone. I should have written names down when I was there this morning. Please forgive me for not remembering everybody who has become wonderful gym companions to me.

Even though I was highly motivated to keep going to Contours, I still didn’t lose much weight in a year’s time, mostly, because I didn’t reduce my food intake. I guess you could say I started my health journey backwards. Most people diet first and then add exercise. I did it the other way around. Early in 2008 there was a weight loss challenge in the gym. As I have mentioned before, my partner Murielle and I won with a weight loss total of 17%. I was amazed.

To make an long story much longer, my husband and I started taking a writing class in January at Moor Park College. It was simple class where we had to write essays every week. I felt an inward drive to complete a novel I had started years ago as a dream. I had already written the romantic part, so from out of the blue, (another stroke of motivation), I wanted to put the rest of the story with the best chapter. It took me about three weeks of non stop writing to finish a 108,000 word romantic novel. It may only be for my own benefit to see if I could actually do it. The work may never see the light of day. But I did it! I wrote a book. I heard a great person once say that everyone has at least one novel in them. I found mine.

I considered then that I wanted to be the heroine of my own novels. I wanted to have a hand-spanable waist, thighs that could crack walnuts, rock solid six pack abs, buns of steel and arms and shoulders like Cheryl Burke from “Dancing with the Stars”. Just before Weight Watchers annual “no fee” registration was up, I took the leap. I had attended Weight Watchers once before, (as mentioned in my previous post), but now I had a purpose. I had drive. I found my motivation. My leader Jill is a great motivational speaker. She told me I would always be a weight watcher and that my journey was just to take one step at a time. I had already made that all important first step. I will always be grateful to Jill and Weight Watchers.

My motivation didn’t come in a single moment or a flash or one single event that I could put my finger on or single out. It was more like a wave. A tremor in the ocean floor, a slight ripple along the surface of desire that started pushing me forward towards the shore of accomplishment. Then swelling up to a massive mountain of urgency and persistence until I was at the crest and plunging for the beach of success. But even as the ebb flowed back out to sea, my next wave was much bigger. Matching the force of the Bonsai pipeline along the north shore of Hawaii's Oahu. Taking a year from when I started exercising to losing 64 pounds, it built up like a tsunami, an all encomposing wave swamping out all my resistance to change. I was hooked.

I have discovered hidden treasures of strength, excitement and energy. I’m happier, healthier, and maybe a little sexier. (Just ask my husband.) I have a new zest for life. I have moved through all the clothing in my closet. I have purchased new clothes at K-Mart for goodness sake, the first time in 26 years. I can buy extra large clothes instead of 4X. I no longer want to wear moo moos. My doctor was surprised and took me off of six medications. I have now written two complete novels and will finish a third shortly. I no longer sit in front of the TV for hours or fall asleep before bedtime. I don’t suffer from panic attacks. I can walk all over Ventura Harbor and not get out of breath or have to sit down every few steps.

Do I believe in motivation? You bet I do. Do I know where it comes from? Haven’t a clue. Motivation is for everyone to discover and I can’t give you mine and I couldn’t take yours from you. What works for me will probably not work for anyone else. I had to have a hunger to replace my passion for food. I found that passion in writing and now I feel great. Prayer helped a lot too. Seeking a higher power in one’s life is often a great motivator. That not only sustains my faith, but adds a great dimension to my life.

Motivation. I consider it the greatest mystery of our time. Well at least, among one of the greatest. I know you can find your motivation. If I can help, let me know by adding your comment.

My Addiction

I have struggled my entire life to learn the secrets of self-control. I learned at the tender age of three that I would always have to fight a battle with my addiction. You might ask, “What kind of addiction would a three year old girl have to battle with?” I will answer honestly. It’s my addiction to food. Not the food itself, but the interconnected feelings and emotions that are associated with food and the pleasure derived from partaking.

My mother worked with my father in his business and often left me in the care of babysitters. These folks didn’t care what I ate. I suspect now that it was an organized scheme to keep me, as it were, doped up with food so I would be docile enough to not be a pain in the rear. Having four brothers that ate like garbage compactors didn’t help either. My mother always cooked like she was feeding the hay bailing crew. Huge amounts of beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, homemade bread, and jam and calorie laden desserts decorated our dining table like presents under our Christmas tree.

I didn’t work hard around the farm like my brothers did, so when I ate the same way they were fed, I gained weight. At age ten my mother purchased me my first bra, and it wasn’t a training bra either. At age eleven, I remember vividly going to J.C. Penny in Salt Lake City to purchase huge clothes in their “Chubby” department. Yes, the store actually had a chubby department for us girls who had no idea about watching what we put in our mouths.

There were also happy times associated with eating. My Grandmother lived on a dairy farm in a small town south of our home. Going there was a treat. It was my job to go to the milk house early in the morning to retrieve the fresh cream from the milk separator for our morning cereal. I consumed tons of Sugar Frosted Flakes with fresh, butter rich cream. Mmm, I can still taste that buttery goodness. My grandmother was a great cook. We ate well from the farm animals that were slaughtered, preserved and then prepared with love, such items as bacon, pork roasts, smoked hams, beef roasts and steaks. My grandmother’s family was large and every occasion we got together included enormous amounts of food like casseroles, homemade breads, brownies, cakes, pies, and homemade ice cream. Who wouldn’t have become a plump, round little butter ball?

I was taken to medical fat clinics and pumped full of serums and pills in the hopes that the weight would magically melt off my over inflated body. Nothing seemed to work. I remember going to Weight Watchers as a teenager and being so discouraged that pizza, double patty melts and chocolate malts were not on the menu. I lasted a couple of months. Even the happy little stars you receive as a congratulatory recognition didn’t help me stay motivated.

For a time in high school, my doctor recommended amphetamines. Those lovely little pills worked great. I felt wonderfully spirited away. I didn’t care much about losing weight, school or anything else for that matter. My hands shook all the time and I was terribly nervous, and paranoid, but the weight seemed to melt away. By the time I was a junior in high school I weighed around 115 pounds. That was the least I have ever weighed. Then I met Cathy. She was a big girl. And I do mean big. She and I became the best of “eating” buddies. Our best times were spent in trying every restaurant from Covina to San Diego. We left no burger uneaten, no pizza in the box.

Over the years, I have gained and lost weight so many times that I have lost count. When I got pregnant with my son Michael, I was so sick that I was actually the same weight when I gave birth as when I got pregnant. But after Mike was born, I completely lost control. I gained about 150 pounds. And for the last 25 years of my life have lived in sorrow and regret. I never wanted to be in pictures. I never had any confidence. I hated myself.

Finding the motivation to lose weight came in spurts. I’d join a program, lose five or ten pounds, then discouragement would set in and I would stop and balloon up again, worse than before. My doctor was worried. My parents were worried. My husband and son were worried. I contracted diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. I even thought I had a heart attack once. Still all these medical conditions did nothing to motive me.

I decided in February of 2007 that I should join a ladies’ gym in Camarillo, called Contours. It took me an entire year to lose 20 pounds. Mostly because I was only exercising not eating correctly. I loved the activity and being with women who had the same fight. This year, 2008, I took part in a weight loss challenge. My partner, Murielle O’Brien and I won. We received a t-shirt for our trouble. In January, my husband Tim and I started taking our writing class taught by Professor Clive Leeman at Moorpark College. I started to work on my novel. I had written the best chapter of the book years ago, but never put a story around it. Suddenly my entire novel was finished. It’s pretty good, I think. This singular achievement has brought me a measure of satisfaction and accomplishment I had not experienced for a long, long time. Around the same time, I decided to add Weight Watchers back into my life.

The Weight Watcher program has changed and had two options: a points system, where you can eat what you like, and a system where you eat low carb foods. I chose the points system. Within four weeks I had lost 21 pounds. It’s not a lot considering what I have ahead of me, but I take solace in the fact that I’ve started. I’m on my journey. I’m doing something I love in my writing and somehow the motivation, the power and the control that has been lacking from my life has descended upon me like a blanket of newly fallen snow. I feel invigorated and enlivened. I write at night instead of watching T.V. I’m reading more books than I have in the past 25 years and I’m at last in control. With the help of Contours and Weight Watchers, as of May 26, 2008, I’ve lost a total of 60 pounds.

I will always be a “weight watcher”. Food will always be a severe addiction for me. But I will not let it be my master and my prison any longer. As one of my son’s favorite comic heroes, He-Man stated, “I have the power!” I have the power to change my life for the better.

Well did you like it? Did you find a point at which my motivation kicked in? Please write and tell me if you did. Thanks for your consideration.