It’s A Guy Thing

Twice in the last few weeks I’ve heard virtually the same weight-loss story. The first time I was in a local restaurant eating dinner and watching a Pens game, when someone yelled across the bar to a guy sitting a few stools down from me, “Hey, you look great! Have you lost weight?”

The guy yells back, “Yeah! 40 pounds!”

“Awesome, dude!”

“Thanks!”

You know me. I couldn’t NOT ask the guy how he did it. After all, if he was willing to yell his weight loss across a crowded bar, I figured I could ask him his story.

“I got my driver’s license picture taken and I didn’t like my face,” he said. “So I decided to lose weight.”

“Just like that?” I asked.

“Yup.”

“How’d you do it?”

“Diet and exercise,” he said.

Two weeks later, I was with some friends in a different bar. Two guys walked in. One ordered a Guinness and the other a Coors Light. I heard Mr. Guinness (rail-thin) ask Mr. Coors Light (slightly overweight) when he had to leave to go work out. Mr. Coors Light said he could have two beers and then he would go home. Work out? On a Friday night?

“Wow, that’s discipline,” I said. “Working out on a Friday night?”

Mr. Guinness jumped in. “This guy here’s lost 40 pounds! Come on, man, tell her.”

“I lost 40 pounds,” Mr. Coors Light laughed. “I’m gonna lose 20 more.”

“Wow, that’s great!” I said. “How did you do it?”

He shrugged and looked at me like, Duh, lady.

“Diet and exercise,” he said.

After his second beer, Mr. Coors Light ordered a hoagie to go for his wife (so sweet!) and said he’d only nibble on a bit of it on the way home, then he was going to hit the treadmill while watching ESPN.

Both men got me thinking, ‘Is this a guy thing?’ Both lost weight just because they decided to, and they did it without Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, LA Weight Loss, NutriSystem, or Optifast. No zone/beach/acai/colon/miracle-pill diets, they just cut back on the hoagies and started working out.

And what about those conversations in public? I know I’ve told my story on Oprah and sundry other places including my blogs, but not without a certain degree of shame, fear and, yes, embarrassment. Even now I cringe when I watch the videos of the shows I’ve been on. If someone yelled from across a crowded room that I looked great and asked if I’d lost weight, I’d be mortified. And I certainly wouldn’t yell back, “Yeah! 170 pounds!” If one of my friends flat out announced to a stranger in a bar that I’d lost weight…again, instant mortification. Yet, the two guys who lost weight seemed completely unfazed by the questions or my inquiries. In fact, they were down right giddy about it. Didn’t bother them one bit.

Go them!

I want to be like them one day – fearless, accepting, and genuinely proud of my accomplishments among strangers who aren’t interested in weight issues. It’s easy to be comfortable talking about weight with people who “get it,” but it’s another to discuss it with, oh say, a potential date. Sure, if I meet someone, I wouldn’t have to tell him about my weight loss, but in this Google-able world, it doesn’t take much to learn my story.

So I need to put on my big girl panties and get comfortable. It can’t be just a guy thing. It has to be a Lynn thing, too.

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Visualizing and Patience: A Divorced Girl's Guide to Living Alone...Kind Of

Like you haven’t noticed, I’ve avoided writing for weeks. It’s not that I don’t love my blog or love talking with all of you about weight and food and all that good stuff. It’s just that I feel like I have nothing to write about, when the truth is I have a LOT to write about. I’m just afraid to put it out there. I’m afraid if I start writing, I won’t stop.

The minute I open Microsoft Word, I find a distraction, something to keep me from the keyboard. Facebook, a computer game, making a complicated recipe, texting, something…anything…to avoid writing.

Why? Well, part of it is that whole Minnesota Norwegian Lutheran anal retentiveness. Growing up, I heard, “That’s not something we talk about,” a LOT. So why write about the stuff no one wants to talk about? Oh, but wait. People DO want to talk about it. They ARE talking about it. They’re not afraid to put it out there – their pain, their heartaches, their joy. Shelley’s blogging through her mother’s surgery . Ellen’s blogging about her post-weight-loss body and acceptance and all that huge emotional stuff.  Lyn’s blogging through sickness Samuel’s blogging though his grief.
Bloggers do this all the time. They put themselves out there. Maybe not all of it, but at least the stuff they think most people can take, the stuff we have in common. I used to do that, too. All the time. You guys know that. But then I got quiet.

It’s not like I didn’t have things to write about. I mean, I made a killer hummus the other day. I lost a pound that took me three weeks to lose. I went on an awesome hike in the 50-degree muck. But it was the background noise that kept me from writing. Those paper-thin moments when things seemed so clear, and then disolved like a communion wafer on the tongue.

Then I read this: “If you don’t visualize what you want out of life, then you are at risk of other people and external circumstances influencing your life because you are not influencing it yourself.” That’s from the book “7 Habits of Highly Frugal People.” A friend sent me this link the other day.

Except for a project in a class in high school (“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”), I’ve never visualized my life. I mean, really sat back and imagined the big picture. I’ve lived most of my life by the seat of my pants, often letting other people tell me what’s right for me, what’s wrong with me, and what I “should” do. A victim mentality, perhaps (ouch). But I really never had much of a backbone (ouch x2).

I lost weight this last time, and am keeping it off, by sheer determination. It’s probably the first thing I’ve ever done just for me. But living alone for the first time in 30 years? It’s harder than weight loss ever was.

This whole “visualizing” my life…well…that’s been the interesting part the last few months. I needed a compass and so I went to what I knew. And what I know is that, like losing weight, living alone is a lifestyle change. And when you want to incorporate change in your life, it has to become part of your life. It has to move within the fabric, the ups and downs, the scheduled and the unexpected.

I love this quote from a WW success story I read recently: “Patience is key. It took me a really long time to lose the weight. I think I became successful when I accepted that some weeks I would gain and that was OK. I didn’t let weight gain give me an excuse to throw in the towel. When I realized I didn’t have to be perfect, I was able to commit.”

Finances, weight loss, getting used to living alone…it all takes a certain degree of commitment, acceptance, and forgiveness. There is a learning curve, and with that learning curve there must be patience.

Just as I learned how to lose weight and I continue to learn how to maintain, I will learn to live alone. I will try to not let the people I don’t invite into my life to influence my thoughts or decisions.

What I visualize, at least right now, is a life not spent alone, but spent in the company of people I love and who intrigue me. I don’t mind cooking for one, it’s challenging. I like setting my own schedule. I can sit in the pain and the tears without running away…most of the time (HUGE step for me…FYI). I will read/listen to the criticism that is bound to come (that happens online…), but I will still blog about it. I’m doing my best to not be afraid.

Thanks for sticking with me. I really do love writing this blog and communicating with all of you.

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I’m On A Diet. A Food Spending Diet, That Is.

I read an interesting column in the business section of the Trib last Monday headlined, “Go on a spending diet!” (It was the word “diet” that caught my attention since I’m not really a business section kind of girl.)

Amy Dunn’s attempt to spend no money in February really piqued my interest, especially this part: “We will eat breakfast, lunch and dinner from the stash in our pantry and freezer…And we’ll set aside $10 a week for milk and an infusion of fresh produce.”

No doubt you’ve noticed the marked increase in food prices lately. From this CNNMoney report: “Over the past 12 months, the food index has risen 1.8%, its fastest pace since 2009, and gasoline prices have soared 13.4%”

I’m feeling it. I’m sure you are, too. That’s why after reading Amy Dunn’s article, I decided a “food spending diet” was in order for me. I took an inventory of my “pantry” and decided I have at least two weeks of meals waiting to be prepared, I can eat well on $10 of fresh produce a week, and I don’t need to eat out.

The "pantry."

So yesterday, I paid for my last meal in a restaurant for at least two weeks (a lunch date with my daughter and her boyfriend) and committed to eating only food I prepare or someone else prepares or pays for (like a “real” date, which isn’t likely…lol). I went to the grocery store and spent $9.54 on spinach, blackberries, a grapefruit, bananas, onions and a mango. I already had frozen fruit and veggies in the fridge, so I should be OK for produce through Saturday.

It will be fun to get back in the kitchen again. I’ve been woefully neglectful of the culinary arts, lately throwing meals together haphazardly and subsisting on omelets, PB2, yogurt and salads. Not that there’s anything wrong with those things, but I’m more creative than that, and god knows I have the time.

Besides, I like my kitchen. I like to cook. It relieves a lot of stress. It also gives me a chance to catch up on my music listening. I put on Pandora on my computer in the “dining” room (which actually has no table; I eat at my computer or in the living room. I know, I know…but I’m mindful, really I am). Then I chop and mix and bake and clean up. It’s all very cathartic.

My kitchen is huge, but has very few cupboards and little counter space. When I moved here, I brought along two bakers racks, a two-foot-high wooden table for the microwave, a butcher’s block counter on wheels and a bookshelf (I use the word loosely) from my antique store that was probably some kid’s wood shop project in 1930, if they had such classes back then. But the bookshelf is my “pantry.”

Back to food spending. In the mail Thursday was the Penny Saver (that’s how I know it’s Thursday). I’m a coupon cutter, but only for things I already use. This week’s best deal is from Save-A-Lot (a wretched excuse for a grocery store): a free carton of eggs. No purchase necessary. I go through eggs like g-baby Maelie goes through diapers, so I’m all over that.

Some of the meals I’ll make will include brown rice, wild rice, quinoa, beans and canned tomatoes. I have a half pound of dried pinto beans so hello refried beans! I made horseradish hummus on Friday, which will last a few more days (recipe below), and I have another can of garbanzo beans to make it again to take to my friend Debbie’s house Saturday night.

The freezer.

I have four servings of lentil soup and five garbanzo bean burgers in the freezer. Since my divorce, I haven’t broken the habit of cooking a full batch of soup or whatever, thus I only eat three or four of the six or eight servings. This “food spending diet” will hopefully help me break that or at least keep me mindful next time and cut the recipe in half. I’m still new at the whole cooking for one thing.

So…have you had any food spending challenges lately? Could you eat healthily from your pantry if you had to for a week or two or three?

If you’re looking for more money-saving tips, check out one of my favorite bloggers, Cammy from Tippy Toe Diet. She shared some of her favorite money-saving sites in last week’s blog, "Frugal Friday". I totally forgot I had an eBates account until I read it! And Groupon is awesome.

Wishing you a frugal February!

As promised, my horseradish hummus recipe:

1 can (15.5 oz) garbanzo beans, drained, but reserve liquid
1-3 (or more) cloves garlic
2 T lemon juice
2 T tahini
2 T freshly ground horseradish (like you find in the jar in the refrigerated section, not horseradish sauce)
Freshly ground pepper

Place all ingredients in a food processor and process until well combined, adding bean liquid as needed (I usually use about half of it). I do a taste test halfway through processing to see if it needs salt or more pepper or horseradish. Chill in the refrigerator for at least two hours.

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She’s Some Kind Of Wonderful

As you know, last week my daughter gave birth to g-baby #3, Maelie. Here we are in our first self-portrait.

Just like Claire and Luca, Maelie's life motivates me to be the healthiest Grammy I can be, physically and emotionally. But I don't live with my grandkids. I don't live with anyone. And living alone after nearly 30 years, I've discovered I can talk myself into nearly every excuse I can come up with to not exercise or meditate - two of the most important things I do to keep myself healthy.

While I don't mind living alone, I prefer not to. I prefer companionship and the responsibility of something needing me. In the past, it was children or a husband who needed me. But I get enough human companionship in my life without living with one, so instead I went to the Animal Rescue League and found Sophie. Or rather, Sophie found me.

As I walked past her cage, with all the other dogs barking for my attention, Soph stuck her front paws out between the bars. I bent over to look at her and she licked my face. She didn't bark, she didn't go buck nutty. She just wagged her tail and licked my face. I'm sure she used that trick on everyone else who walked past that day, but it worked on me.
Sophie's belly is pink because she was shaved for her spaying; she’s a pit bull mix, brindle colored (think peanut butter and chocolate) ; she’s underweight and needs to gain 5 pounds; she was a stray, but she knows the command for “sit”; she snores a little; and because she is trusting and would rather lick my face than eat her food, my guess is someone, somewhere loved her.

And now, so do I.

I know many of you understand when I say that dogs are some kind of wonderful. They love unconditionally and demand so little. My Sophie (formerly known as Skittles) has a lot to learn about pooping outside, but nothing to learn about love. She’s got that down. She’s Sophie, Ph.D. Love is her degree.

Sophie sits in the kitchen while I talk her through what I’m making. After last night, I’m sure she can make a rockin’ salmon fillet and sautéed snow peas. Sophie gets my ass off the couch even when I’ve worked out. She has me climbing the stairs and walking outside more than I have in 4 months. She’s my new weight-maintenance secret weapon.

The only time I’ve heard her bark was when I worked out on the recumbent bike at home. She growled and barked and wagged her tail as I pedaled. Then she peed. Oops. I took her outside, brought her back in, started pedaling again and she went to sleep on her bed. I think she’ll be good to go on the bike path this spring. And the hiking path. I love to hike, but I won’t go alone. With Sophie, I can hike anytime I want to.

Soph was a little afraid of the vacuum yesterday, but got over it without peeing. We’ve had long talks; she’s heard me say “No!” more times than she’s probably heard in her life (necessary “noes,” believe me); and she’s wowed me with her love of her crate, and her ability to crush a tennis ball and yet gently lick my hand.

What I like best about our relationship is that I don’t know her past and she doesn’t know mine. What matters is that we start from this moment and build (with the help of doggie obedience classes) a relationship of trust and understanding.

I’m stepping on to a new road of patience and fitness with Sophie. She's already got me moving more. Soph, it would seem, is on a new road, too. One that includes comfy blankets.

Do you have a dog (or any pet) that motivates you? Post your pet stories in the comments!

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It's a Maelie!

Last night I started writing what was sure to be a Pulitzer Prize winning blog on how I tried sushi for the first time yesterday and how it was…well…interesting, and how I was quite sure I’ll try it again.

Then I got “the text.”

Cassie’s contractions were 9-12 minutes apart. Because Cassie has a gift for birthing babies easily and quickly (emphasis on quickly), I knew I had to get over there. Fast.

I had a bag packed, my computer packed, my food packed (always mindful of the food) and enough gas in the Jeep to get me to Cassie’s that night and a gas station today. I loaded it all (well...) in the car, when within a half mile of Cassie’s I realized…I’d forgotten my damn bag!

“Cassie, it’s Mom,” I called, surprisingly calm. “I’m almost there. How far along are your contractions?”

“Eh,” she said in her carefree (Carefree??? She’s about to give birth!) way. “Seven, maybe 8 minutes.”

“I, um, forgot my bag. Would I have time to go back and get it?” I asked. (Some people stress eat. I stress forget.)

Much laughter on her end. Plenty of time, she said.

OK...Got to Cassie’s at 9:30. Matt put kids to bed. Claire insisted on seeing Grammy again. Grammy went upstairs and talked to Claire and tucked her in. Grammy went downstairs. Talked to Cassie. Matt fell asleep on the couch. Contractions were every 5 minutes. Claire got out of bed. Grammy went back up. Laid in bed with Claire until Claire (and nearly Grammy) fell asleep. Grammy went back downstairs. Matt was still sleeping. Contractions were 2 to 3 minutes apart (holy crap!). Cassie called the doctor. Cassie woke up Matt. After a Marx Brothers routine, they were out the door at 11. Grammy went to bed. Fell asleep around midnight. Phone rang at 12:30. Cassie was checked in. Dilated to 4. Text from Cassie at 3:00: “Epidural at 2:30. Very comfy.” Text from Matt at 6:30: “She’s ready to push!” One push later, baby was born at 6:36. Phone call from Cassie at 6:45. “Remember what you thought it would be?” she asked. “A boy,” I said. “It’s a girl!” she laughed.

World, meet Maelie Julianne, my third grandbaby and second granddaughter:

(And contrary to what a friend of mine says about all babies, she does NOT look like Winston Churchill.)

Maelie is 7 pounds, 13 ounces, and 22 inches long. She’s the “baby” of the family, kicking Luca up to middle child status, same as me. Her birth generated more text messages than I’ve written in the last two years combined. She is a Text Baby. Luca was a Facebook Baby.  Claire was a Blog Baby.
I promise a more coherent blog in the next day or two. Until then, I’m co-grandparenting with Grandma Julia the next few days. Thank god grandparents come in sets.

Grandma Julia, Luca, Maelie, Cassie and Claire. Maelie looks like she's a singing cherub!

Just us girls



Luca and Daddy



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In Spite or Despite, Life is Still Good :)

I know, I know…I haven’t blogged since Tuesday. What a crazy week! I was helping out in the Conti Infirmary where everyone – my two g-babies, son-in-law and very pregnant daughter – have been alternately sick the last two weeks. The illness has passed, so they can welcome g-baby #3 into a relatively germ-free house within the next few days. Cassie’s due date is Friday, but she went a few days early with Claire and Luca...so…Monday? Tuesday? So exciting!

I brought the kids to the mall on Friday to ride the carousel and those 50-cent rides that jolt kids around for a couple of minutes, but they imagine they’re driving a car or flying a space shuttle. Amazing what joy a roll of quarters will bring a 3- and almost 2-year-old and their Grammy.


The other thing that’s kept me from blogging is the news I got Wednesday from my knee doc. What we thought was just a meniscus tear (something that could be repaired with a simple scope) turned out to be much more, and the knee surgery I had in June, the one we thought bought me at least 5 years with my original equipment, turns out to have been in vain.

I’m getting pretty good at reading MRIs and x-rays. Most anything in bright white isn’t good. No, no, no. You don’t want to see bright white. But we did see bright white. A big old mass of bright white on my upper shin bone, lit up like the Griswold Christmas tree. It was fluid, which means, for lack of a better word, death. The bone, said my doc, is dying.

“We see this in women ages 40-65,” he said. “But usually it’s in women who are heavier than you.”

Doc doesn’t know about my obese past; all the years I spent going up and down the scale. At that moment I figured why tell him? Nothing I said would change the diagnosis.

So I walked out, a little stunned. My five years of reprieve from a total knee replacement is most likely down to 12 months or less. But rather than be angry, I was resigned. Sad, but resigned. I’ve done the anger thing. Anger is like snake oil. It cures nothing.


The sign on the exam table in knee doc's office

In April and May 2010, I wrote two blogs about how I live with the consequences of living most of my adult life on a weight roller coaster and more importantly, being morbidly obese for several years.
In the Refuse to Regain post, I wrote: “I haven’t wanted to explore this, mostly because there’s not a damn thing I can do about it now and I can’t change the past. But the question is begging to be asked, the question I’ve avoided since making goal three years ago: Do I have all this arthritis in my knees, shoulders, wrists and toes because I was overweight and obese for so many years? Like stretch marks and loose skin, is arthritis my daily reminder that, for years, I fed my insatiable desire for starches and sweets; gained and lost and gained and lost a lot of weight; and for the most part treated my body like it was separate from me?


“The answer is probably not a resounding ‘Yes’, but it’s not ‘No’ either. I am, in many ways, responsible for the shape of my body now. The choices I made about diet and exercise and the things I declared acceptable (basically ignoring the weight elephant in the middle of the room) accelerated the degeneration of my knees and feet, and perhaps contributed to the degeneration of my wrists and shoulders.


“Even though I give myself a lot of credit for stopping the weight before it got any higher and for losing the weight which has given my other systems better health, here on the other side of weight, displaced anger still exists.”

We all lose weight for a variety of reasons: to avoid heart disease or avoid or regulate diabetes, to look better or fit into a size-smaller wedding dress, to be able to play with our kids, to fit in an airplane seat. All good reasons. But how many of you have lost weight because of the potential for osteoarthritis? My guess is not many. I certainly didn’t have a clue obesity could cause this arthritic mess of a body I’ve got now.

On Lynn’s Weigh last year, I wrote: “Even now, I get angry when I think about what I’ve done to [my body] and for what it can’t do anymore, much of it due to having been morbidly obese. But…I promise myself to do my best to stop the cycle of anger, grief and guilt I put myself through with much frequency. I will do this by journaling more positively and finding alternatives to self-flagellation as solutions to my perceived failings.”

Nearly a year later, I’m…eh…doing OK with stopping the anger cycle before it gets looped around. I try not to live in regret, but it still pops up once in awhile.

My plan now is to: 1) pay close attention to the pain, which right now isn’t too bad; 2) get educated about total knee replacement in “younger” people; 3) play with my grandkids; 4) keep working out; 5) keep my weight stable; 6) don’t beat myself up.

G-baby #3 will arrive soon. Very soon. And right now, despite the knee and wrists and everything else, that’s all that matters.

Life. It’s good. And if I’ve learned nothing else through this, it’s that there’s redemption, regardless of what we’ve done to our bodies or ourselves in the past.

*** I need to add that if you comment about how you know someone who's had a knee replacement and have said it's the best thing they've ever done and they wished they'd done it sooner, let me know how old that person is. 47 is really too young to have a knee replacement because replacements wear out in 7-10 years and the next knee is never as good as the first. You get mileage on the first one, yes you do, but I'm trying to think ahead. I'd love to hear from folks who had TKR in their 40s. Thank you!

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Hey...Slow It Down

When I moved to Pittsburgh in November, one of the best things I did was take a yoga class. Not only did I discover a new form of exercise, but I also met BFF Debbie.

Debbie and I have a lot in common – we love birds and dogs, we each have two daughters, we both meditate, and like so many woman, we’ve both struggled with weight most of our lives.

Debbie’s on a quest to lose – for the last time – 50 pounds. Here’s how I know it’s her last time: “Tomorrow is Weight Watchers. I am going to the meeting, but doubt I have lost weight. I don’t think I’ve gained either, but we’ll see. I read a WW success story today that resonated with me. The woman lost 50 lbs, but it took her a long time. She knew she had to make a lifestyle change, not just follow a temporary diet, so she was determined not to get discouraged when she occasionally gained a little or did not lose weight. That gave me inspiration. I tend to be an all or nothing person, and if I don’t lose on a consistent basis, I tend to give up. I don’t want to give up this time, even if it takes me 3 years to lose 50 lbs. What I do know from experience is that once I quit WW (or the diet of the moment) I GAIN weight, so I do know that if I don’t just totally quit, my weight won’t continue to spiral up the scale.”

I totally relate to needing to change that mindset from “Get it off NOW” to slower is better. When I first started losing weight, especially the first 50 pounds, I was highly motivated. Almost too motivated. There were some days I felt so desperate to get the fat off that I’d chastise myself for the following: 1) putting on the pounds in the first place; 2) waiting so long to start doing something about it; and 3) not getting it off faster. I’d get this really anxious feeling throughout my body, like I couldn’t get the fat off fast enough, like a centipede was crawling up my leg. “Get it off me!” I screamed in my head.

I spent way too much time being angry and judgmental, too. I’m sure this will sound familiar: You get on the scale and see you’ve lost a pound or two, so you’re a “good” person. You get on the scale and you’ve stayed the same, lost “only” point something or, God forbid, gained, so now you’re a “bad” person. I still struggle with this. I’m “good” if I eat or exercise perfectly and I’m “bad” if I don’t. I’m always reminding myself that I’m on a lifelong journey of eating well and exercising, not just a day trip.

I’m not a bad person if I don’t feel like going to the gym. Rather than have that emotional knock down drag out and calling myself names, I’ve learned to ask myself, “Why don’t I want to work out?” The answer that emerges is never “Because I’m a bad person.” The answer is always something tangible like I don’t feel well or something is on my mind that is distracting me. Those are issues I can deal with. This also works when I see a number I don’t like on the scale. Instead of judging, I ask myself, “OK, what are some of the reasons this is the number I’m seeing?”

We have to replace destructive thoughts with tolerant ones. It takes a conscious effort to change our self talk from negative to positive, but being fully aware of what we are saying and how it affects our behavior will turn our weight-loss journey into more than just a “Get it off me!” race to some goal we think will make us happy. By being happy in the process of losing weight, by being accepting of our bodies and what they do for us, by appreciating that we’re taking good care of ourselves by eating well and exercising, and forgiving ourselves those times when we don’t, we’re learning to love ourselves as we are in the moment.

There’s a reason, other than the baby’s physical growth, why pregnancy is nine months long. It gives parents time to prepare for the huge lifestyle change that occurs when a baby joins the family. It’s like that with weight loss, too. Every milestone, sometimes every five pounds, comes with a change to our bodies, and we need time to adjust to and appreciate that change. I didn’t start appreciating those changes until I settled my mind down a bit after losing 50 pounds. I bought some new clothes because I was still wearing the old ones, and seeing my body in well-fitted clothes helped me enjoy the body that was emerging.

This journey takes a lot of deep breaths, a lot of patience, and a lot of attitude adjustments. By being your own best friend, by standing beside yourself instead of always running away from who you are in the moment or standing over yourself like some mean coach, chastising your mistakes, you can appreciate who you are and see more clearly who you want to become.

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