Heavy Heart

Just when I was feeling pretty good about myself, and what I'm doing, this happens. Chickadee #1 had a friend over for a play date and early dinner. As the children were eating, the friend said, "Chickadee #1, I think you are going to look like your mom when you grow up." Chickadee #1 leaned over and whispered something into her friend's ear, and wouldn't tell me what she had said. I let the matter drop, but at bath time (which just started), I asked again what she had said. She hesitated to tell me until I said, "I won't be upset no matter what it was." Then my beloved daughter, my whipcracker smart, funny, talented little girl, my five year old said, "I said 'Except I won't be fat." I just replied, "Oh." and left the room. Now I'm recording the shame and sadness into the permanent (well, digital) record as I sit at my keyboard crying. How pathetic.

I guess I just have to look at this as an impetus for further, permanent change. But oh how it hurts.

And it's sad to know that while, in my imagination, I look like the person in the WHFS T-shirt, I really look the like person in the blue sleeveless number. What the heck was I thinking? Sigh.

Thin Is the New Happy

In my profile, I describe myself as a weight-loss book aficionado. In fact, if one could lose weight by reading about it, I'd be Twiggy. I've always tended to mediate reality through the printed word and there is something incredibly comforting to read a memoir such as Valerie Frankel's Thin Is The New Happy and to find a fellow-traveler, someone who articulates the struggle of those who have tried, succeeded, failed, and tried again to lose weight -- whether we need to lose a significant or a negligible amount.

As I read Frankel's excellent book, I cringed where appropriate, sighed ruefully where appropriate, and even cried where appropriate. Like Frankel, I suffered under the tyranny of middle-school bullies who hated and tormented me for no decent reason at all (you know who you are). Like Frankel, I occasionally have fantasies of telling those nasty people how much they had to do with transforming a relatively happy kid into a miserable teenager whose only thought was to do as well as possible in school so that I could get a scholarship to a college FAR FAR FAR away from anyone who might know me and might remember that a particularly "endearing" sobriquet I was known by in middle school was MonagHAM. Ha ha ha ha. And, to make it all worse -- I was no chubbier than many other girls in my class and turned out to be fairly well-proportioned in high school and college.

That scarring experience resonates for me today in ways that I hardly notice any more -- but reading this book brought them into focus for me. For example, Frankel relates buying a clicker so that she can count all the instances in which she thinks badly of herself or talks unkindly to herself. She counted instances of "negative self-talking" numbering in the hundreds EACH DAY -- in fact, she calculated that she had a negative thought about her body or looks every three and a half minutes. That sounds familiar -- I can't recall the last time I looked at myself in the mirror and liked what I saw -- that's a lie -- it was the day I met my future husband. Ten years ago. Even on my wedding day I was either counting flaws or not thinking about what I looked like, just hoping that everything would go well.

Frankel also talks about the personal consultation she had with her friend, Stacy London, the style guru from What Not to Wear. Everything in Frankel's closet was chosen to hide some perceived flaw. Most of it was trashed and, armed with explicit instructions from London, Frankel bought a new wardrobe which suited her life, looks, and style. It's a secret fantasy of mine to be whisked away by the What Not to Wear team and transformed, except that I would only want to do it after losing weight and I'm too shy to go on TV. But anyone who knows me in person can see that my clothes follow a pattern -- the things I choose are mostly black, green, or brown. I like to fade into the background -- I don't want people to look at me too much. And that shows. But I am working on changing that.

I'm Back

This'll be short, but I PROMISE to start writing again. I've been really depressed lately because of the repercussions of my knee injury in NOVEMBER. It's just been this last week where I have not been in constant pain. I guess a week of enforced immobility because of 2 massive snowstorms in a week was what I needed -- neither the chickadees nor my husband nor I had anywhere to go at all for a whole week. It was a bit... ahem... confining. But I think it really helped in my healing process.

I have news to report also -- I've lost 7 pounds, which is not a lot but, after months of stasis, seems like a mountain. I joined a gym and actually went to work out for the first time today. Previous visits were only to visit the jacuzzi. While it was humiliating to discover that I couldn't figure out how to work one of the stair step machines and evidently don't have the strength in my right leg (which is odd) to make it work properly, I did ride the recumbent bike for 15 minutes and walk on the treadmill for half an hour.

And I'm not in pain. And I feel good about myself. It helped that there was a mirror in front of me -- watching myself walking was a somewhat humiliating experience, but in the mirror, I could see the shadow of the woman I want to be -- someone who sets a goal and achieves it, no matter how flipping long it takes. Over the past several years, I've been knocked down multiple times by various issues. But, by heaven, I was back on that darned treadmill today. And I'm going swimming tomorrow. Go me.

New Directions

So, I told you that, after my fatty liver syndrome freak out, the Nurse Practioner assured me that they were going to help me through this, monitor me monthly, and get me on the right track. She figured out my basal metabolic rate and told me that these are the calories that I need to simply "be". If I eat that many calories and expend calories through exercise, weight loss would result. Great -- fine. All set to join a gym that my friend has been urging me to join so we can work out together.

Then, three days later I dislocated my knee. Since then the only exercise I'm getting is stumping around on crutches and Physical Therapy. But that's another story.

I also mentioned that I have completely fallen off the WW bandwagon. This is for two reasons -- first, my aunt, who had encouraged me to go to WW with her, has stopped going. The meeting location is about a 20 mile drive for me (we chose that location because it's close to my aunt). So, if my aunt (for whom I would walk on hot coals) is not going to be there, I am, shall we say, "disincentivized" to drive that far for a meeting, get sneered at by the weigh-in lady (only one - the others are lovely), corral chickadee #2, and then run back to my home city in time to pick up chickadee #1 from school.

On my WW meeting days, I'd drop off Chickadee #1, go to School of Community, then head to WW. I'd take Chickadee #2 to lunch at Chick-fil-a (they make a mean 8 point salad), and rush back to pick up Chickadee #1, then rush home to get into ballet gear (chickadee, not me) and rush out to ballet, run some errands in that hour, then go home. I'd be gone from 8 am until at least 5, with maybe a 15 minute period here and there to come home. That is CRAZY. It was making ME crazy. And ineffective. And tired. Not to mention a cruel mommy to a 3 year old.

The second reason is the basal metabolic rate that the Nurse Practioner gave me. I'm not sure whether the WW formula is wrong, or if I did it wrong, but it turns out that, if we are talking 50 calories per WW point, then my daily point allowance under WW seriously underestimated my caloric requirements -- by say, at least 300 calories per day. Given the fact that, because I was not really losing under WW, I had further reduced the number of points I was consuming each day, I was never going to lose weight that way -- I had sent my metabolism into a tailspin.

So, instead of doing WW, I asked Santa Claus to bring me a GoWear Fit armband. Have you heard of these things? Basically, it's an armband that you wear on your left bicep. It keeps track of the calories you expend, the steps you take, and the amount you sleep each day. You connect it to your computer and it records the data. Then, you connect to their website and enter what you have eaten for the day. The website will tell you whether you have consumed more than you have expended and provides reports that analyze your sleep efficiency, what sources you have gotten your calories from, and the like. It takes the mystery out of things, and will give me something concrete to bring to the doctor when I go in for my monthly "check in". So, it's all good. While the armband is pricey ($199 -- $179 on Amazon.com), having raw data in front of me is really helpful. I can see, for example, that I get way too few calories from protein and more than I should from carbohydrate. I can see that I need to increase my steps, though that's kind of difficult with crutches. I think it will be a good tool, and there are other features, such as alarms and reminders, that I haven't worked with since you need to have a matching "wrist display" to see what you are doing in "real time" rather than after the fact. Santa's helper is bringing that, I think.

OT -- Nickelodeon ParentsConnect "World's Biggest Online Baby Shower"

When I was pregnant with Chickadee #2, my sister invited me to Carroll County's Biggest Baby Shower. At the time, my sister worked for the County's Infant and Toddler's Program, which provides early intervention services to children with disabilities and to their families. The concept of the County's Biggest Baby Shower was to get a bunch of pregnant women into a room, give them a nice lunch and some cake and punch, some party games and door prizes, and LOTS of information on infant development, services, health, and other parenting topics. Even though I only won a small scrapbook which I later regifted (with full disclosure to the recipient that I was regifting), I learned a lot despite the fact that I was not a brand new mother.

Now, even if you don't live in Carroll County and it's not the summer of 2006, you too can participate in a great virtual baby shower, complete with games, advice, and prizes. It has come to my attention (via a dear blogging (and real-life) friend at A Parent in Silver Spring) that, this Wednesday, December 16 (as in, two days from now!) Nickelodeon is hosting Nickelodeon ParentsConnect's World's Biggest Online Baby Shower. Between 10 am and 8 pm, the ParentsConnect Message Board will be hopping with shower games, a lifeline of advice on parenting, and many cool (really cool) prizes. Need a UppaVista Baby Stroller or a Medela Freestyle Breast Pump? Drop in to the Message Board for your chance to win these and many other great prizes -- from diapers to jewelry! The host of this unique online party will be Susan Newton, of The Shower Diva fame.

You can participate in the party in one of three ways:

1. Log in (or register) for ParentsConnect. Go to http://www.parentsconnect.com/me/registration/index.jhtml

2. Go to Pingg, RSVP "Yes!" and use the "Share Invite" to invite others. The person with the most guests wins a $650 stroller. RSVP at: http://parentsconnect.pingg.com/babyshower

3) Visit parentsconnect.com on December 16 between 10 am and 8 pm to join the party.
Go to http://www.parentsconnect.com/connect/boards/bootcamp/baby_shower/chat_it_up.jhtml

See you at the party!

Hiatus Over

It's been so long since I've posted. A lot has happened. First, I'll come clean. I haven't set foot in a WW meeting or tracked a single point for weeks months. You could say that I've fallen off the wagon. Hard. Nonetheless, this has been a period of incredible introspection and lots of mental work for me.

When I spoke before about my strange experience of recognizing the ultrasound technician, my discomfort with the whole procedure presaged something even more intense. I got a call at 6 pm two weeks ago from my doctor's office, asking me to come in to discuss the ultrasound results. We made an appointment for 1 pm the following Monday.

That Wednesday through Monday was one of the most difficult periods I've had yet. By the time Monday rolled around, I was convinced that I had pancreatic cancer -- something that runs in my family. I couldn't sleep or eat, couldn't think about anything else. I was gaming out how the chickadees would get taken care of if I were really ill or if I died, how my husband would survive, all that I would have missed. In the doctor's waiting room, I had a serious anxiety attack -- I couldn't feel my fingers or lips, my heart was pounding, and I was close to hyperventilating. Luckily, I do a very quiet freak out so I didn't embarrass myself totally.

In the exam room, when I talked to the nurse practitioner about all of this, she reassured me that I didn't have anything horrible based on what they know now. But, I do have a potentially very serious condition called fatty liver syndrome which, if left untreated, can result in cirrhosis and, eventually, liver failure. My liver is enlarged as a result of irritation (i.e., being "fat") and I need to have a CT scan to look at a cyst they found on my kidney. The doctor reassured me that the cyst was not cancerous -- that they could tell that it was filled with liquid -- and that the radiologist didn't even recommend a follow up -- they were just using a surfeit of caution.

HOWEVER, the important thing to note is that it is imperative for my health and future well being to lose weight. As if I didn't know that already. But the nurse practitioner was really lovely about it and assured me that they were going to help me to do it. I am to go in monthly to be monitored and to make sure I get and stay on track.

I left the office relieved and somewhat happy, if a little worried about the CT scan. I resolved to join a gym that a friend has been urging me to join for a long time (low rates plus babysitting, close to home). We were arranging a time for her to meet me there so that she could introduce me to the manager (she gets some kind of emolument for bringing in new members). I was preparing to go away to Colorado for a wedding with my husband, leaving the chickadees with my parents for the whole weekend! And then, I did this:

Yes, folks, that's a human knee. MY dislocated human knee. My dislocated human knee that failed me in the wet, slippery parking garage of a major big box store that will remain nameless -- but it's not the Arkansan one. In this parking structure of this nameless store, I slipped on the crosswalk and my leg and knee did things that no human knee should do. The pain was intense and I had to crawl across the parking deck, with my 3 year old chickadee screaming, "Mommy, please get up!" over and over again, while I treated her tender ears to words she shouldn't have been hearing (in between screaming myself, I mean). There was no one around (we were on the top level of a 5 level garage), so I had to get myself and the chickadee into the car, in a rainstorm.

And I've destroyed my knee. No fitness club for me these days -- but I am doing PT twice a week. Sigh.

God's Little Wake Up Call

This morning, I had an abdominal sonogram. No, I'm not pregnant. Instead, I was being examined because I'd had some elevated liver enzymes in blood work that I'd had done during my September physical. Going into the exam room with the sonogram technician was sobering. Sobering because she was the same technician who had examined me last spring when the doctor thought I might have a blood clot in my leg (thank you, sciatica). Sobering because, while I recognized her, she also recognized me. Sobering because, all the while she was examining me, I was praying to God to spare me from some horrible diagnosis. I was also thinking about how terrible it is that. in the last two years, especially this past year, we have spent so much money on health expenses for ME. As I've complained about mentioned before, I've had a revolving litany of health problems recently. How many times am I going to ignore what my body is telling me? Isn't it enough that I have personal relationships with incidental health care professionals?

Yes, I'm trying to be healthier. Yes, I'm doing Weight Watchers and I try to be cognizant of what I'm eating. But I'm not exercising (because I hate it, I hurt, I don't want to, I'm busy, I'm lazy, I've never liked exercising, it costs too much, I'm tired, I can't take the kids, etc. etc. etc.). So what is stopping my lazy ass from getting out of bed at 5 am and walking? Nothing but laziness and exhaustion -- both of which can be cured by doing the thing I'm avoiding.

What makes me sad, though, is that the last time I lost a lot of weight (right before I met my husband), I did it out of PRIDE. I was planning a trip to Ireland, where I'd spent a year and a half while in graduate school. I didn't want to go back there and have people look at me crossways because I'd gained 30 pounds. For pete's sake, if I lost weight for a bunch of strangers, why the f*&* won't I do it for my husband, my children, MY SELF???? This is the mystery.

Sigh. Let's go for a walk.