joining the walk down memory lane

Come for a walk with me down Memory Lane!
And if you have a "Memory Lane" post, head on over to Scottsville to join in on the fun!

I checked out Serenity's blog this morning and read a hilarious post about her son's, um, er, favorite appendage. She joined the new meme at the Scottsville blog where you "walk down memory lane". I thought it was too much fun to pass on, so here goes.... racking my brain, racking... [slight pain from all the racking...] OK. Got one; here goes!

I am terrified of geese.

When I was a little girl my dad raised a couple of geese in our backyard. They are mean birds. One Sunday morning, my dad asked Big Brother and me to take the garbage out to the alley. We had to walk through the geese's domain; the backyard.

I was already in my Sunday dress and my pretty white tights. But I was a brave little girl and Big Brother promised to keep me safe. So, off we trotted, garbage in hand.

Half way through across the yard, the larger of the two geese thrust his neck out, flapped his wings and charged at the two children invading his territory. I screamed, Big Brother hollered and we broke into a bolt, hoping frantically to reach the gate by the alley.

Ignoring the gate, Big Brother sailed over the fence and landed in safety. Being one year younger [and a very dainty little girl] my sailing over fences ability was minimal at best My foot got stuck in the fencing.

"OUCH!" the rest of the story is a blur to me. My butt hurt. My pretty tights were torn. And now I hate geese.

OK, so I hope that was a good walk down memory lane. I really do hate geese. My husband thinks it's funny; but please, keep the geese away.

once upon a time there was a girl

Once upon a time there was a girl. A girl who loved her new body, despite it's 200 pounds. A girl who celebrated her weightloss by picking up things that weighed 100 pounds. She could barely lift what was once a part of her 300 pound body.

Once upon a time there was a girl. A girl who grew to love to work out. Seriously. She got up every morning, pulled on the laid out exercise clothes, and woke her foggy brain with the early morning air. She jogged no matter the weather. Only if it was single digits [nine degrees or below] would she succumb to working out inside and then it was to TAEBO videos. This girl worked hard.

Once upon a time there was a girl. A girl who conquered her addiction. A girl who learned to walk past the ice cream freezer and treat herself with a new bottle of nail polish instead of a pound of fattening food. A girl who could scope out an all-you-can-eat-buffet and know exactly how many WW points were contained in each dish.

Once upon a time this girl fell in love and got married. Her husband wanted to make love in the mornings so she began to skip her morning walks. [Who can deny the handsome prince charming?] Those morning [and afternoon and evening] "cuddle" sessions soon produced beautiful children. But the pregnancies proved to difficult and came so often her body didn't have time to recover. Old addictive behaviors snuck back and clung to her like an evil demon and food, once again, became her enemy.

Once upon a time the girl became a mother and self priorities were slowly pushed to the back burner. Needs became minimal and survival mode kicked in. Children took sleep in the night and the sunrise always came early. The mother grew heavier and heavier as the years flew by.

Once upon a time there was a mother. The mother had beautiful girls and boys. The girls and boys needed their mother to remember The Girl who had disappeared. The Girl who had committed herself to a life of health and vitality.

I can feel The Girl inside me. Walking out of the YMCA yesterday....... It was like that old Me, The Girl, reached out and touched me. It was a re-kindling in my inner self. The old feelings of owning exercise, of enjoying that work out time period, it all flooded my self and I breathed deeply the nostalgic thoughts.

Somehow, I must combine The Girl and The Mother. I do not want to be The Girl. She was selfish and immature. But, I do want to glean from her and learn from her. I want to remember her hopes and dreams and somehow, someway, unite them with who I am now.

To be continued............

from fat generation to fat generation; but the fat stops here

My mother is fat. Hugely fat. I think she weighs around 350 pounds or so. Maybe more. While I take responsibility for the choices that brought me to my weight problem, I certainly learned my coping mechanisms honestly.

I have many memories of watching my mother turn to food for comfort. One time she came home upset. I do not know what it was that really brought on her emotional crisis, but I will never forget what she did. I saw her staring at the fridge. Heaping her plate full of food. Celery. Chips. She was crying. Her plate was two, three inches high. She lumbered out of the kitchen, tears streaming from her face, and sat on the couch. I watched her eat the plate full of food while she cried. This is my most vivid memory of my mother's food addiction.

Of my mother's children, three out of the five of us are fat. Ironically enough, it is the three daughters that are overweight, not the two skinny sons. Isn't that interesting..... And now I am a mother of daughters and sons. My heart aches with the heaviness of my desire to not leave them with the same legacy my mother has left to me.

I remember my first binge in front of my kids. Actually, the first time was in front of my oldest. He was just a baby. He laid in the floor while I ate cookie after chocolate chip cookie. He studied his mother while she stuffed her face. I remember thinking, "He won't remember this... I won't ever do this again; it's the last time."

Sigh. Oh, that's heavy to me. And a scripture now pops into my mind. "There is now NO CONDEMNATION to those who are in Christ Jesus." I take that truth into my heart now. Father, forgive me for setting a bad example to my children, thus far. Thank you for the freedom you hold out to me and are saturating my life with right now. Thank you that my children WILL BE FREE, in the name of Jesus. That this addictions stops HERE, with ME. It is not allowed to drift down the line from this point forward. In the name of the mighty Jesus Christ, AMEN.

Now go have a great, FREE day!

bubble up the pain in my amazing childhood

I am humbled and amazed at the honesty and candor of my followers. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and encouraging me on this journey.

April mentioned that she had an "AMAZING childhood" in her comment on my previous post. [I like April, you should check out her blog. I love it. FYI] Since she had an amazing childhood, how could it possibly be the reason for her weight struggle?? What a great point.

Here's the thing, if you had asked me that last year, I would have said the same thing. [Not that I'm questioning the authenticity of April's childhood; it probably was amazing.] My parents are great people. They taught me and my siblings about Jesus Christ and his gift of salvation to all people. My parents "walked the walk", so to speak. Their relationship with Christ was real and still is real today. I know they love me and did their best raising me and my brothers and sisters.

That is one reason why it is so hard to admit the memories of hurt. They did not mean to hurt me. My mother had a hormonal imbalance. She would "loose it" sometimes. It was accepted in our family that that was "just mom". My dad learned to live with it and us kids were "vomited on", so to speak, every time my mother lost it. She would go days hiding in her room, unable to function.

Now, writing that, I can see the dysfunction in our family. But, growing up, that was "normal"; I didn't know this was not OK. As a mother of many children, I totally understand "loosing it". I get the intensity of stress. It has been hard for me to admit that my mother's behavior hurt me. I love her so much! I know she loves me and I believe she really and truly walks with the Lord. However, she is human and she made mistakes that shaped who I am today.

The Holy Spirit is like Hydrogen Peroxide; the Lord pours it on the wounds of our hearts. It bubbles out the ick so healing can begin. Part of the Thin Within program is allowing God into my heart. Surrendering the wounds; allowing myself to feel the pain of the wounds. It is hard, but we're doing it. God and me. I "went back" to those days where Mom acted like a child. I cried over the loss of my mother not being a mother in this area. I recognized that Jesus was with me, even during the pain. I gave Him my wound and hurt and asked Him to come heal my heart. And, you know what?? He did; he has! Praise God!

That was a few weeks ago. The past few days... well, let's just say His pouring more Hydrogen Peroxide on my heart. I can feel the bubbles bringing up another wound and I am really struggling to face it. Sigh. My heart cries out, "NO!" My spirit answers, "Surrender already!!"

the numbers drama

I am feeling very fat and stupid right now. I have gobbled up about a pound of green M&M's. Yes, green. Did you know the company put out solid green M&M's for Valentine's Day? Yea, there's something about the green ones... supposed to make one horny or some such silliness. Um, for me, I think they might just make me fat. Sigh.

Anyways. I thought I might blog about my weight history. Just to fill ya in. 'Cause, ya know, you guys really care about that kind of thing, right?

• So you already know when I hit 200 pounds. That was around 16-years-old. Let's back up a little. My first diet. Sixth grade. I think I weighed about 145 pounds. My sister and I found a diet in a Woman's World magazine of my mother's. This was the first time I really became aware of calories and fat grams.
• A year later, I weighed about 160 and my whole fat family joined TOPS [Taking Off Pounds Sensibly]. My mother lost 100 pounds [has since, I'm sorry to say, gained it back]; my father lost about 40 pounds [gained it back, plus more]; my brother lost about 25 pounds [still looks great]; my sister lost about 20 pounds [gained it back plus lots more]; and I lost about 20 pounds [um, DUH, gained it back plus lots-ish!]. I hit 143 at the end of our TOPS experience. That was my goal weight. I maintained it for about two weeks. Then, the whole family quit TOPS and we all got fat again.
• It is truly a blur from 143 to 200 pounds. Somewhere from the eighth grade to tenth grade the pounds packed on. It was a very stressful time frame for my family, and I began to turn to food for comfort.
• Went to a college. Gained about 20 pounds per semester. Left after about three years weighing about 280 pounds. Since college was stressful, and I ate when stressed... pretty easy to figure out why the pounds crept up.
• Joined WW April 2002, weighing in at a whopping 300.8 pounds. Yep. My highest weight.
• Ten months later, after following WW points program perfectly, I weighed 200 pounds. I was the happiest 200 pound person ever. 200 pounds felt skinny compared to 300 pounds.
• Lost another eighteen pounds, bringing my weight down to 182 after my wedding in April 2003. My lowest weight since childhood.
• Gained up to 195 after coming off WW. Got pregnant and gained 35 pounds.
• Pregnant again, weighing 235 post pregnancy. Gained up to 243 before discovering another pregnancy.
• Pregnant once again with Number Four and maintained the 267 weight until the last month. Nine months pregnant with my fourth baby, I weighed in at 273.
• Baby came. Lost about 10 pounds. Gained it. Lost it. Gained it. Now I am at the "lost it" stage again. Hoping to not ever see it again.

OK. So, now you know. FYI.

the 200 pound mark

I remember when I climbed over the 200 pound mark. I was a sophomore in high school. My family had moved out to the country and lived in a trailer house. A run down, holes in the ground, trailer house. It was an incredibly stressful time for our whole family. We were very poor. My mother stretched our already tight budget by buying cheap food. I remember a lot of bologna, beans and Cheetos.

It was during this time frame that the food addiction surged and really took a hold of me. We were supposed to sell chocolate as a fund raiser for a school program. It was "The World's Finest Chocolate"; remember those? Oh. My. Goodness. So, way too yummy. Anyway. [I got distracted by the memory. I think it really is the world's finest chocolate... OK. Coming back to this post...] So. Selling this delicious chocolate got the best of me. I think I might have sold one bar. I ate the rest in the bathroom. Hiding. Often, I would take two at a time into that tiny bathroom, close my eyes, and eat the sweet chocolate.

I told my high school friend I weighed over 200 pounds. She was barely 5 feet tall and probably weighed a plump 130. She was chubby in a very cute way. She was the most down-to-earth cheerleader. I loved her. I thought she was beautiful. And here I was, confiding about my weight.

"There's no way you're over 200 pounds," she told me.

"Elena, I am!" I insisted, blushing darkly.

She dragged me to their family's kitchen and pointed to the scales. "No your not. I'll show you."

I sighed deeply and stepped onto the box. Sure enough, the red letters "203" glared back at me. I tried not to choke. "See, " I told her.

My friend stared at the numbers. She shook her head. "The scales are broke."

She never admitted that I weighed 200 pounds. She was a good friend.

Skinny people have this notion about "200 pounds". Like it marks the official fat person. "200 pounds" seems huge to a 130-pound-person. I remember when I hit 300 pounds. Now, that's a different story. For another post.

i'll start tomorrow

This morning brings new resolutions. As usual.

I have started so many diets. I could not began to count them if I tried. When I was a chubby teenager, I used to lay in bed every night and promise myself I would "start" tomorrow. My fat sister and I promised each other. The morning would come and go. Sometimes we really did diet for a few weeks, or days. Usually we were "good" until dinnertime.

I am really good at starting a diet.