Finding Peace

Yesterday I was consumed with the events in the Middle East. I am so sad for those affected - and the region - and wonder if there is a way to find peace. Any kind of peace.

I tried to relax and through the day, began to focus some on finding my own peace. This weekend was big for me (aside from my obsession with the "Crisis in the Middle East"). I spent most of it by myself. This is not new. What is new is the fact that I felt happy and occupied. This is a major discovery. I was full and I can't start to understand what has changed. I am working fast to digest it though because it is magic. Losing the weight and replacing it with confidence and an interest in spending some time with myself. I decided not to be afraid to confront the feelings that crawl all over me when I am alone. Insecurity. Terror. Sadness. Unworthiness. Shame. They are being slowly replaced, as I battle them, with curiosity, tiny flecks of tenderness, forgiveness, patience. Ever baby steps. And that's okay too.

I am so in love with my friends (including the ones related to me) today. I was thinking about each of them last night, what they are, what they give, what they accomplish. I am incredibly grateful to be surrounded by such a powerful and ceaseless support network. Feeling their love is helping me try to start seeing myself, for the first time, through their kinder eyes.

Weight today: 268
Happy Song of the Day: Friday I'm in Love by The Cure
Yummy meal idea: fat-free refried beans with salsa, avocado, a little light cheese and onions. I am a stinker but a healthier stinker.

Saturday, In the Park

...I think it was the Fourth of July. (Old Chicago song)
Saturday in the park means tennis now! Played with Jen again this morning and had a blast. We laughed and laughed. We had the good fortune of getting the shady court. I am more and more into it. And love that it is exercise!
For food, I have been sticking to my plain old plan of not eating it if it isn't food. This works. I have totally cut artificial sugar of any kind, alcohol (sugar), and anything refined. I feel like a million bucks. But not a million pounds. Go Lucia Go!!

Weight today: 270. Ha ha. Only 100 more to go....but just thinking 20 for now. No problem.
If you think that just a few pounds doesn't make a difference, check my entry from June called "follow through" soooo much less gut hanging out. Hot.

The Incredible Shrinking Woman

OH MY!! It's working. Amen. Hallelujah. Keep going keep going keep going. NOW I am excited!!

Wonders Never Cease

Wonders never cease. I am staying on track still, a.k.a. I get by with a little help from my friends. My weight has finally starting to take a nose dive. FINALLY. I am feeling better physically and psychologically. I have stayed off refined foods for a few days and feel healthier already. This gets me back to my brilliant idea of not eating things that aren't food. Seems simple, doesn't it? Yeah, cheetos aren't food. (I can hear the whispers of "dang" right now.)

I got a great book that has been helpful to me and is probably useful to anyone who has "food issues." It's When You Eat at the Refrigerator Pull UP a Chair by Geneen Roth. I think I may have mentioned it before and I am just getting into it now. It is an emotional read for me but I figure when is now a good time... I have lost and gained weight my whole adult life. This time, when I get to my spot, I will not be leaving it. I need to make sure I know how to stay there, to say the right things to myself, to see my reflection the right way.

While I sometimes think that this whole quest (including the blog) are just too selfish for words, I remind myself that I can help no one when I am sad and unhealthy... I hope that's right!

Little Cabin in the Woods

Saw a rabbit hopping by, knocking at my door... Back and back on track! Chicago was tough, a lot of sitting, a lot of listening but a great city and a good chance to bond with colleagues and try to figure out my future. A little down time in Woodstock also helped. (Plus, I saw a baby deer with its mother. Squealfest.) I have been passive about my life for a looong time, way too long. I am slowly but surely trying to think of ways that I can more actively design it. I need to be a participant and my own life leader, not just a drifter waiting for something external to steer me. Am on a mission with some friends these days. No carbs, no sugars, no exceptions. Not going it alone is like drinking a magic potion for me. Amen!

Hiatus

Well, the time has come for a small hiatus. NOT from trying this thing... but from the blog. I have to go out of town for work and will not be able to write until Monday. Hopefully I will look completley different next time I post photos. That's the plan!

Schnozberry

Anybody remember that part from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (original) where Veruca says "schnozberry, who ever hear of a schnozberry?"

Well maybe this is it! World's biggest blueberry here on display. I love all that 4-H stuff at the fair - the big pumpkin, the gourds, etc.

I ate this. It was sweet. All my daily need of antioxidants in one fell swoop.

Smart Woman in a real short skirt

Any Buffett fans?

I’m looking for a smart woman in a real short skirt
Smart woman who knows how to flirt
Smart woman got a mind of her own
Smart woman that’ll take me home
Take me home

I don't think he meant tennis skirts but it sounds positive to me so I will take it. I always wanted to sweat all the way through my shirt! Looky! Look at the back. Yes, it's sweat. You are sooo lucky this is not a scratch n' sniff blog. Whew. Yep.

Pretty discouraged today. Not doing something right and too busy with work to figure out what I am doing wrong. I should be LOSING at this point. Grr. Patience my little smurfs.

1000 somethings

A photo is worth 1000 words.
















It may also be worth
a) 1000 freckles
b) 1000 almonds
c) 1000 dorky expressions
d) 1000 giggles

Everyone Agrees

Everyone agrees U suck Lucia. That's what it said, this midnight text message. I laughed. I still laugh.

It was pretty much the first time I ever stuck up for myself with a guy who was not nice to me. It was a couple of glasses of wine. At first it was fun, sweet. Then it was sour, less fun. He drank to much. He said mean things. Normally, I would stay, work it out, apologize (when I did NOTHING wrong), grovel. Driven by the fear of being alone. Not this time. My knees were jello when I got in the cab. They were decidedly less jello two blocks away. Five blocks away, I was giddy. So THIS is what it feels like, I though. When his text message got to me, I was so proud of doing it that I actually read the text as "you sTuck Lucia." It is my badge. It means it worked.

My father, also heavy and always working on it, wears a special machine to help him sleep at night. I tried it on. Though it is relaxing, I am not keen on wearing one any time soon. (But my wearing his sure did make us laugh.) Today's photo will remind me to keep up the mission. Or else.

Weight today: 273.4. I am going to wait a little while for the next report. Y'all deserve a good surprise.

Speaking of surprises: Brittany sent a great book that I am just getting into. (Check out Eat, Move, Be Healthy by Paul Chek http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1583870067/102-0577768-6335361?v=glance&n=283155. I originally got the title wrong and subconsciously typed "Eat more, Be Healthy. Der.) I have long recognized the power of random surprises arriving by mail but seldom experienced the joy of receiving one. Thank you Brittany! If you'd like to put your name on a list for random surprises (the good kind, of course), please send your mailing and email addresses to LBauknight@gmail.com. No junk or spam. Promise!

Rose Colored Glasses

Took this photo through my sunglasses. (This is a cool trick Claire taught me in Prague. Check out her work at http://clk.my-expressions.com/index.html.)

I have needed these rose colored glasses lately and have become aware that I don't wear them when I should and wear them when I should not. For myself and for others I rationalize, excuse, explain. I rarely confront others for fear that they will abandon me or that they won't like me. Even strangers. And then there is the way I let myself misbehave too. I realize that this is inconsistent with how harshly I talk to myself but it is the yo-yo of bad behavior, rationalization, vicious condemnation that keeps me on the fat train. I mean, decide. If I am going to be viciously strict and unforgiving, well, be consistent for the love of God (best uttered in Tommy Boy by the late Chris Farley. And don't get me started on how someone can make a career of making fun of one's fat self. Destruction.) So how about this: no excuses for a little while? Just go with the harsh talk. Listen to it and let it guide me. There's a reason the inner voice is so ticked. A drastic change from self-love and sweet talk.

This week is rough. When a person I love is in distress, I suffer too. It's so hard when there seems to be nowhere to go with some super intense emotions. Ordinarily, I have turned to food. Not this time. Not for me, not for the people I love, not for my family or friends in turmoil.

In general, there is a build-up and no outlet. The fastest and most familiar/comfortable fix is food. Overeating is an instant numbing agent. I have, for the last few nights, forced myself to just sit with it, whatever it is. To feel it and experience it. It is revolting, overwhelming, terrifying. And, eventually, the intensity of whatever I am feeling passes. Without ice cream. Without cookies. With time and attention.

I am discouraged today and realize that fewer and fewer people are reading this. I am not inspiring and have not lost weight to say "look what I've done." I am refocusing my routine today and will stick to cardio for a bit and less weights to try to bun some fat pounds and just feel more motivated. I think of you each time I do it. Each morning. Each decision juncture. Don't give up on me. (Yes, I was saying that to my rose colored glasses self too!)

Serenity Now!

Deep breaths. Eaaaasy... So I compose the CL, comprehensive list of reasons I want to change. And then I will make the list of reasons I suspect I desperately hang onto these horrid 90 extra pounds, almost a whole extra person!

Things to change, reasons...unpleasantries 1. clothes. The tall boots that are in style do not fit me. The ruffled skirts for spring that are so flirty and feminine won't work. Obsessionion - it cannot be more exhausting to walk down the street and focus on the bodies of every person I pass, letting my mind wander from conversations, ideas, tasks at hand. Stretch marks on my legs, waist, even arms now. 4. Sitting - positions in which to sit in a chair are limited by my rhinocerotic size. How about airplane seats, desks, subways, cars, etc. 5. Sweating - it will decrease. 6. Poor legs - rubbing together, coarsening the skin, blistering in the process 7. Paranoia - enough said 8. Ankles - I can get sexier legs when they have ankles. 9. Lingerie - from every day bras to the real deal, the best lingerie is in smaller sizes. no question. 10. More energetic - its is tiring lugging all this around 11. Can have conversation while walking up the stairs. I will not be out of breath from taking the stairs 12. Make others feel more comfortable 13. Double chin can go. I can FEEEEEL it! 14. No more snoring. 15. Cuter booty on the bike seat 16. Will be more agile 17. One word: Health 18. Bones in my chest - not the shoulders, the neck bones. Pronounced supersternal notch. 19. Can I please stop tugging on my clothes all the time! Goodness! I see people on the street, one jerking her bunched coat from under her backpack, another pulling a Tshirt tenaciously clinging to an oversized backside. That is me. That is me. That is me.

Steps to achieve it. 1. be conscious of my goals at all times. This is hard. Internalizing that this is what I really want is the most difficult part. 2. Be disciplined and rigid. Exercise without excuses. 3. Do not buy groceries or any food ever that do not contribute to my goals. 4. Surround myself with support system to a) check up on me and b) inspire me. 5. Think CONTROL and EASE. 6. Improve one little thing each day, something that makes me feel good. Take better care of my nails or use lotion on my face or shave my legs or whatever little thing happens to work that day. DO IT. 7. Be aware of my posture at all times and maintain the stance that someone who loves her body would take. 8. Listen to music that energizes and motivates me. Most people underestimate the power of music as an anchoring tool. I made a tape of songs I like to dance to when I used to go out and play them at the gym. I use music that makes me feel sexy. This helps me to visualize while I am exercising. 9. Eat when I am hungry. Something little, ssomething thatthy, somethingthat makes progress and something delicious. TASTE IT. Savoring each bite makes food a different experience. I will eat not to escape or to hide but to nourish and pleasure. I will eat because that is part of a healthy lifestyle. I will not overeat because I don't need to. I am a clever girl and can surely figure out another way to express my frustration/fear/anxiety/sadness 10. Realize there will be ups and downs. Learn from them. Enjoy them, if I can. 11. Write. Write. Write. What I eat, what I do, what I feel, what I buy, what I wear, what I think or say. This keeps my goals closer to conscious awareness and focuses me on my plan and purpose. 12. Have a little faith. Trust. My body knows what it needs. Be open to its messages and obey its wishes. 13. Become uncomfortable in the old body and imagine the new. There is a fine line between making myself uncomfortable enough to want to change and self loathing. Mastering this step will not be easy. 14. Visualize. All the time. The sooner I see myself as I wish and plan to be, I will have a concrete goal to work toward. 15. Don't be so harsh on my reflection. I never look in the mirror at the gym. I will start to look and focus on change. There are lots of opportunities to be seen there. 16. Relax. Take your time. No stressing or rushing. Set small realistic goals then take them down one by one. 17. And reward yourself along the way. NOT WITH FOOD. 18. And do keep a record of that progress. It is affirming to be able to look at something tangible - a chart, book, journal entries, pictures.

I can't forget where I started. Going back is a nightmare.

Serious goofball

Ugh. Monday again. Work will be crazy this week so I am dreading it.

I got up early this morning to go to the gym. And then I didn't go. Then I made all sorts of promises about going later. I am still hanging on to those but have a secret (or not so secret) bad feeling. I have set a mini-loss goal for the end of August, 15 pounds. This is certainly do-able. But only if I exercise. WHY DON'T I JUST GO?What is it!?

Goal for the day: Go. That's it. That's all I have to do.

Grumpelstiltskin

If you are ever grumpy, and you see a sign like this, no matter what, it will make you laugh. This happened to me when I was stuck in traffic. I had not budged for 20 minutes (literally - not an inch). My previously silent and diminutive Chinese driver erupted in a sudden flurry of odd and misinterpreted profanity - that itself should have made me laugh. I sighed and looked out the window. To this.

I am grumpy this morning. So far the billboard isn't helping. I guess one has to see it in person. Maybe because it was hot in my bedroom last night. Maybe because I have work to do today. Maybe because I am lonely. Or maybe it's because I am as big a house. Yeah, I think that could be it. Grrr. I am trying to be positive today and internalize all the good wishes from y'all. I sliced cucumbers at dawn, put cabbage slabs into little baggies to lunches so I don't screw up this week. All the time I was painfully aware that Sunday mornings are for brunch, a sweetheart, and a newspaper. None of which I currently have.

I am going to figure this out. I am just going to keep going. Finish the kitchen, hit the gym, do my work. I don't have to be a deliriously happy glowing joyball every day. An old friend used to tell me "It's not always Christmas." No kidding.

I pooted.

Box of Cremated Remains

What does a box of cremated remains have to do with weight loss? Well, except in the most obvious and bizarre way, nothing. I mean, I guess we weigh less after cremation...

So, the downtown boat basin allows freaky New Yorkers to "rent" kayaks. It's free but I don't know what to call free rentals... Anyway, I went today. I packed my little back pack with my tennis racquet, water, pink tennis balls (for breast cancer research donation and to distinguish my balls when they fall all over the other courts), and phone (hey, I remember what happened on the last bike ride. I don't know if that kind of karma strikes twice). I went to the little kayak place, ever seeking physical activity that doesn't make me want to bite someone. Aside from the dirty old man signing people up (dirty - literally and figuratively I'm afraid), the experience was totally positive. I even managed to just suck it up and wear my bathing suit bottoms. Oh man. That was tough. Done.

So as I was waiting, and talking to other kayaking hopefuls, I asked one of the volunteers what would happen if the water splashed in my mouth. It was mostly a joke but I know what is in that river. (gagging sounds.) I asked if any kayakers ever discovered dead bodies. He acted like that was ridiculous. Then he added, rather quietlky, that a few weeks ago, someone found a box of cremated remains. My strange and funny rewards come in all forms.

I am so proud that I went by myself. I felt goofy. But I also felt like I am making progress. I listen less to the mean voices. Even when they tell me that a more fully covering bathing suit might protect me from the boxes of cremated remains in the Hudson!

Independence Day

Well, a little late for the Fourth but an independence day all the same. Went to the beach for the holiday and the getaway was needed and fun. There will be numerous posts to come that celebrate the amazing weather and unique beauty of the "low country."

So for this mini-independence day, some declarations:
I will be free from paranoia.
I will be free from eating food that isn't food. (Cheetos, sadly, count as the latter, damn it.)
I will be free from obsessing. This won't happen in a day.
I will be free from oppressive idiots who run the country. Wait, not yet.
I will be free to exercise and enjoy it.

What I will not be free from (apparently):
People who eat dirty diapers for breakfast, wash it down with coffee then breathe on my while I ride the subway.
Dog owners who just don't grasp the "curbing" concept.
Horns. Jackhammers. Public vomit shows. Annoying accents (possibly including my own).
Bad drivers.
Hey, we do what we can here. (Sigh.)

On the anniversary of Americas' independence, I focus on being a better American. On taking care of myself and striving to contribute more than consumption. I am grateful for running water, climate control, the luxury of speaking my mind, nutritious and affordable food on every corner, supportive ad loving family and friends, my education, the melting pot. This is quite a place. (Amen.)

New food discovery: chicken hot dogs - yummy with or without sparklers.

Pig Call

I debated (internal, but quite seriously) about wearing a bikini this time. Five years ago when I went to the beach, a group of teenagers shouted at me on the beach. To be more specific, they squealed "SOOOoiieee." For those of you unfamiliar with this, it's a pig call. I knew it from when I used to feed the pigs at summer camp. Fortunately and unfortunately, my boyfriend at the time who was with me, did not know what it meant. I had the terrificly unpleasant experience of explaining to him that his girlfriend had just been pig called on the beach. It was devastating and unforgettable.

To those emasculated cowards who addressed me on the beach that day: this one's for you. Your acne probably still plagues you. Your miniscule testicles will never get bigger. Those girls who laughed when you called me that don't date your kind any more. You're sunk.

Me, on the other hand, I am doing okay. I have a chance. And I like my bikini. And I am thankful for the body that fills it. These legs have walked through fascinating places in dozens of foreign countries. These arms have held the babies born to dear friends. They have hugged adored family members and countless friends. They have hugged grandparents for one last time. They have waved and cheered and signaled and reached. That tummy has had nutritious and plentiful food. That round face holds a smile that is grateful and kind. Though the heart works hard to keep this large body going, it works even harder to hold all the joy my life has brought so far.

Bikini? Yes.

Gerbils

Thinking of gerbils today. I was in middle school when the friends down the street got some gerbils. Assuring me that they were both boys, they gave me the pair as a gift. Only a short time later, the two boys had miraculously produced a small family of 30. In one cage. After a family jailbreak (and gerbils in the dryer, shower drain, dishwasher...) my mother said they needed a new home. I agreed with one condition: the family had to stay together. I placed an ad in the local paper and received a call from someone who spoke such intense hick that even I, fluent in hick myself, could almost not understand. "Ahm calleen 'bout them little black dawgs y'all gotfer sayell inna pie-per." She took them all. Almost 10 years later I had the sudden and horrible realization that the only reason anyone would take 30 gerbils was to feed something larger. I am still so sorry for those little guys. (What does fart have to do with hello, you ask? Read on to see why I thought of these guys today...)

Most of the time I am hardly aware that I am even a person, with a separate identity from fat. I am a worker, a daughter, a sister, a painter, a lover, a best friend, a cousin, a Southerner, a New Yorker, a cat owner, a shopper, an organizer, a laugher, a dancer, a nurturer, a cook, a launderess, a reader, a writer, a nature lover, a florist, a photographer, an observer. But all I can think is that I am a fat girl. Today, I will remember and be aware that I am all the other identities too. I am strong and determined to change. I am a goal setter and a persuasive talker. I am a helper and an idealist. I am a perfectionist. I am a fat girl today but I am also the person who can change it. I am the person who is exhausted. I am so finished with the trauma of being fat. I was sweating to much I could smell my armpits without even trying. They smelled like a gerbil cage that needed to be cleaned.

(If you'd like the mouse pad shown in the photo or an apron with gerbils on it - who wouldn't - I found these and other items at www.cafepress.com/petwebsite.)

Hey Big Girl!

I am thinking back to last week, standing on the corner waiting for a cab. I was wearing the same jeans I always and a black sweater, sunglasses. Trying to blend all 275 pounds into the New York scene without being detected as a hefty outsider. I don't know so many more places that can make one this conscious of appearance. What am I waiting for? I mean really? So I was standing on the street corner waiting for a cab, going to meet a friend. Scared someone will notice how fat I am if I am alone and cite my size as the reason for my singleness. Leprosy would be preferable I suppose but the social treatment would probably be the same. I heard someone yell something that sounded vaguely like "Hey, big girl." I barely had time for the cognitive process before I had turned to find the voice, petrified it was talking to me but needing to see that it wasn't. It was talking to me and the pain of acknowledging it was soap in my eyes, nausea, dizziness, internal screaming and naked humiliation at once. The funny thing was this guy's face, grinning, eyebrows raised suggestively- a compliment! Are you KIDDING me!? The audacity and ignorance. He was trying to get my attention then compliment me. While I realize that this may be someone's ideal body, it is sure as hell not mine and I don't mind if someone rents millions of billboards educating these men about how ineffective "big girl" is as a pick up. I was crushed. Standing there in my trying to look cool and with-it outfit, large girl version of what the stylish normal girls wear, I admitted that I was a fool. I wished it had rained on me then and soaked me straight through. I wanted my hair nasty and gnarled, permanent tangles, I wanted my mascara to streak down my face. I longed for the swollen nose and puffy red eyes from a crying jag. I wanted to become as glaringly ugly as I felt. No rain came to camouflage my tears as I maneuvered my mass into the waiting cab. I didn't even have the courage to glance up.

How did I get this way? Is it because I am American? Are we unhappy or lazy or bombarded by greed and wealth and abundance and this is how it manifests? I do not remember gaining this weight. Becoming fat and adopting the fat identity is not memory. I doubt I was even aware of whatever process produced this. I recall gaining weight at one point and not caring. It felt okay then. 10 pounds, 20, 80, 100- for some reason it made no difference. I was not an unusually big child. I was always tall and am grateful for it now, as always. Or maybe I was a chubby child. It doesn't seem that way to me now. I try to recall changing from my school clothes into my pink leotard in the back of our beige station wagon on the way to my ballet class. Hot and sweaty as usual, working hard to get those tights on. Was I struggling because it was a tough act to perform in the car or was I fat? I am comforted now by imagining that I was just tall and jammed in the back of the station wagon, trying to change as discreetly as possible without revealing all to people in passing cars.

I think. I reflect. I ruminate. I obsess. And I still cannot comprehend how I became fat. I recall so many times when I got sad or tired or lonely and ate. And ate and ate. What a sick thought to covet the will power to be anorexic or the physical and emotional ability to induce vomiting. I have never but wished I could make myself countless times. The truth is, until now, I would rather be fat. I am and have long been, on some level, extremely comfortable in this body. My mother used to say "When you don't need the extra armor, you will it take off." Of course now she says things like. "This is a serious health risk," extolling truths about skin elasticity and age. I have to change that truth. I have to want, more than being fat, to become fit and healthy. I am going at this from a different angle this time. A little at a time. Baby steps. First, want to jog a mile within a month. Want to lose 10 pounds. (NOT 80!! Not now. Just 10 for now.) I want to halt my stretchmark proliferation. Just 10 -not going full force, just starting to learn now and will BUILD MOMENTUM. This is not hard. This is easy and pleasant. A gift to myself. I feel stronger and more flexible. I feel quicker and lighter. This is only the beginning. I was sad when I began writing this entry and vowed to write until I felt better. Whew. Thanks for listening (reading).