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.