Author: BecomingBetty

The monster in the closet

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I fought a hard battle over the weekend.  I dealt with the monster in the closet.  I know all about the monster in the closet.  In my case, the “monster” is how to dealt with clothing that is too big.   As of this morning, I have lost 56 lbs.  As a result, my closet was packed full of clothing in sizes that just don’t work any more.

Losing weight and becoming healthier is a good thing – don’t get me wrong.  However, it brings with it a problem: when it’s too big to alter, do I donate it or store it away “just in case.”

I’ve lost over 100 lbs twice in my life.  I’m working on the third round.  Both previous times, I threw out the “fat” clothing and then had to do the “walk of shame” back to Lane Bryant and Coldwater Creek to repurchase the stretchy pants that fit.

I purged- oh how I purged.  I got rid of the ugly size 26 coral suit that I never even wore once.  Gone are the shapeless shifts and the threadbare things that I kept wearing because I refused to buy anything else in” that size.”

By the time I finished, the “keep” pile was smaller than the purge pile.  When it was all hung up, there was actually room to slide the hangers on the bar.

While there was a big part of me that was celebrating every article that had outgrown its usefulness, I must admit that I couldn’t bear to part with a number of my “fat clothes” items.  My favorite “comfort clothes,” the ones that made me feel pretty even at 322 lbs.   They are hanging in the basement.  In time, I will have the confidence to make them go away forever.  Now, instead of a monster in the closet, the “monster” is in the armoire.  I haven’t touched that one yet.  When is a t-shirt “too big,” anyway?

Cutthroat Chopped! – Family Dinner Edition

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My husband and I are fans of cooking competition shows.  We especially enjoy Chopped! and Cutthroat Kitchen on food network.  

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concepts, on Chopped!, a panel of contestants are given a basket with several mystery ingredients, each of which much be used in a dish that they have 20-30 minutes to create.  They also have use of a pantry stocked with beautiful produce, spices, and staples.  

Cutthroat Kitchen works much the same way, but instead of ingredients in a basket, the contestants are assigned a dish and given 60 seconds in the pantry to shop for ingredients.  After they have selected their items, the other contestants bid on opportunities to sabotage them with handicaps, such as stealing ingredients or cooking with one hand tied behind their back.  

The food is rated by chefs, and contestants are eliminated or allowed to progress to the next round and the winners are rewarded with cash.

My household consists of my husband and I and two boys (26 and 14) and a girl (18).  As busy as we all are with activities, work, etc., we still try to have a sit-down family dinner at least 3-4 times per week.  As the best cook and the mom, preparing that dinner nearly always falls to me.

Some days dinner prep at my house feels  like a combination of these two shows. 

The rules of the Cutthroat Chopped! are simple:

  • Get dinner on the table with ingredients on hand in the pantry (fridge/freezer/cupboard) 
  • You must serve an entree that everyone will eat
  • You must not use processed foods in preparation
  • You have 60 – 90 minutes to accomplish this task
  • Incorporation of kale is an automatic loss

Your sabotages are:

  • Your dish must be gluten and dairy free
  • There is a distinct possibility that one of more of the ingredients that were in your refrigerator yesterday may be missing or unusable
  • The judges are picky eaters, so no shellfish, mushrooms, big pieces of onions, olives, big pieces of tomatoes or vegetables other than carrots, peas or corn may be used
  • Occasionally there may be a guest judge (a grandchild or friend) with their own dietary sensitivities or dislikes – these must also be accommodated
  • You have to fit your workout (and a shower!) in during this 60-90 minutes
  • One of the judges will be at boy scouts, work, or track practice.  You must anticipate the judge’s arrival time so that everyone can eat at once and the kitchen can be clean before bedtime.

Bonus points are awarded for

  • accommodating all judges’ preferences
  • correctly anticipating the missing judge’s arrival time +/- 10 minutes
  • any meal involving beef

The (nightly) competition begins.  Of course, since I didn’t plan ahead, my proteins are all frozen.  I get them in the microwave to thaw, change into my workout gear, and run to the treadmill for my warm-up.  Next, I prep the meal and get back on the treadmill while it bakes, stews or braises. Exhausted, I shower, serve dinner and wait for the judges to comment while making witty dinner conversation and asking the judges about their day.

The judges critique the flavor, texture and presentation.  After the judges have all commented, the head judge gives the meal a rating.

The rating system is simple:  

  1. I would eat this at least once per week (this is reserved for roasted chicken thighs and baked tilapia)
  2. I would eat this at least once per month 
  3. This was not a hit, but you may prepare it occasionally if you enjoyed it
  4. Shrimp and grits territory (my family hates shrimp and grits).  This is the worst rating in our system and involves ordering pizza or reheating leftovers so nobody goes hungry.

The prize?  I am invited back to the next round to do it all over again, and I never have to do the dishes or clean the kitchen.  Since I hate kitchen cleaning, this is a win-win.  I am a survivor.

Author’s note: My judges knew I was writing this post and have blessed the fact that I am poking fun at them.  They mean the world to me.

I just want you to like me

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Some time in the 90s, I read a book called “Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway” by Susan Jeffers.  I’ve been meaning to go back and re-read it, because I found it very enlightening at the time, but now I don’t remember much of what it said.  I do, however, remember her talking about how very much of what we do is motivated by our desire for  people to like us.

I think that “people pleasing” falls somewhere on a spectrum between “I don’t care what you think,” and “I will just die if you don’t agree with me.”  I’ve spent most of the past 40 years on somewhere on the latter end of the scale.

I’m my own worst critic.  To be honest, when I receive a friend request, or when someone says something really nice about me on my facebook wall, I still sometimes wonder if they made a mistake.  As a result, I don’t let too many people know too much about what I consider to be the “real” me.

I’m really shy.  People don’t believe me, because I can talk to anyone.  Talking is not the hard part – reaching out is the kicker.  As a result, I don’t go many places or do much of anything, because I wait to be invited to do something by someone else.  Last week I took a step outside of my comfort zone.  I emailed two people who I knew primarily through my involvement in an organization that I recently left.  I invited them to have lunch or coffee with me because I liked both of them a lot and I’ve been feeling kind of socially isolated without my club meetings to attend.  One accepted and one did not.

I had a lovely lunch with the one who accepted.  I shared some things about me that she didn’t know before, and I learned some things about her, too.  I hope she had as fantastic a time as I did, but I have to admit that I’ve spent more than one anxious moment wondering if she’ll still like me now that she knows some of the private me instead of just the public me.

I’m sure I’m not alone in wondering,

Will they still like me if they know I’ve been divorced?
What will they think if they know that I suffer from anxiety?
Will they think I’m weak if I say I just can’t do it?
If I post this, will they think I’m just looking for attention?

This list could go on and on.

I’m on a journey to wellness which involves losing a very substantial amount of weight.  For years, I cropped my profile pictures so that people couldn’t see the “fat parts.”  When “friends” from other social media platforms found me on Facebook, where I had full-length pictures posted, several told me they had no idea I was a heavy person.

I’ve put off meeting people who played an important role in my life because I was afraid of how they would perceive me if they knew how fat I was.   I’ve agonized over wardrobe choices because I was afraid of wearing the wrong thing.  I had two full-blown anxiety attacks trying to get myself into the gym this spring to finally do something about my weight because I was afraid of what people would think of my king-sized self and potentially say something unkind (or think something unkind, look at me sideways, etc.)

I’ve censored my opinions on many timely issues on social media because I have friends on both side of the fence.

If I tell you how I feel about “X,” you may not be my friend.

I’m no longer as driven by the little voice that tells me I’m not good enough.  When it makes an appearance I remind myself that a friendship based on a character I decide to play isn’t really a friendship.  I haven’t been giving people enough credit.  Worse than that, I haven’t been giving myself enough credit, either.  I’m pretty cool.  I really am worth getting to know a little better.

 

 

 

On grieving a suicide

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I posted this as a status on Facebook yesterday.  Several people found it meaningful and shared it.  I’m posting it again here for those who aren’t part of my Facebook community.  

The Robin Williams story has me feeling very sad today. As many of you know, I was widowed in 1998 when my husband took his own life. He was no celebrity, but there were still people who needed to satisfy their morbid curiosity about our private life and even a local newspaper reporter who decided to add the details of his death to his obituary.

My heart goes out to Williams’ wife and children. I pray that now that their private pain has been made so public that the media will allow them privacy to grieve. I hope that the “buzz” will turn from the manner of his death to a celebration of his life.

I’m no expert on mental health or theology, but I believe that suicide is the ultimate act of desperation when it seems that all hope of happiness is lost. I believe that a loving God recognizes that the act is one of desperation not based in sinful thoughts, and that the victim of that desperation should be judged on the life he lived, and not on the singular act that ended it.

There are so very many moments in Robin’s career that touched me, made me laugh, or made me think. Once favorite film was the 1990 drama Awakenings. In one scene, Robin’s character Dr. Sayer is having a conversation with his patient, Leonard, played by Robert DeNiro:

Leonard Lowe: We’ve got to tell everybody. We’ve got to remind them. We’ve got to remind them how good it is.

Dr. Sayer: How good what is, Leonard?

Leonard Lowe: Read the newspaper. What does it say? All bad. It’s all bad. People have forgotten what life is all about. They’ve forgotten what it is to be alive. They need to be reminded. They need to be reminded of what they have and what they can lose. What I feel is the joy of life, the gift of life, the freedom of life, the wonderment of life!

Somehow, Robin lost sight of that wonderment. The world lost a great talent. If you are reading this, please take to heart that you are a gift to the rest of us. The world will be less rich, colorful, and diverse without your talents, abilities, and experience.

I thank each of you for the moments we have shared. There has been more than one time when I have been in despair, and a friend has reached out just to say hello, and that has made a tremendous difference in my ability to face whatever obstacle was in my path.

We cannot take responsibility for others’ acts, but we can resolve to be kinder, and to touch the lives of those around us.

I didn’t mean to write a book here… but thank you for reading it anyway. My life is richer for having you in it.

B

Banishing the “Yes But[t]”

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Perhaps the biggest health hurdle of all to conquer is the dreaded “Yes But[t].” (YB)

The YB strips us of our pride, depletes our confidence, and worst of all gives us excuses to give up.

I thought I had all but banished the YB yesterday when it reared its ugly head.  I started running in March of this year.  I don’t move fast, but I move.  Some weeks I move more than others.  I moved a lot of miles a couple of moths ago.  Then, life got busy and I hurt my knee.  I still run, but I’ve been doing more other exercises, like walking, weight training and even some dancing.

A friend who follows my progress on Nike+ congratulated me for running 10 miles this month.  10 miles is a long way for someone who couldn’t run 1/10th mile without gasping for air and holding onto the treadmill a couple of months ago.  I should have been shaking my booty and dancing, “10 miles, baby, 10 miles!  Hear me roar!”  Instead, I got a case of the YB.

Yes, but my personal trainer app says that I should have done 17 by now.

Yes, but in May I did 50 miles, and I’m way behind that pace.

You get the idea. Instead of celebrating my achievement (10 miles, WOOT!), I posted a big WOOT online, and then mentally berated myself for not running 17 miles, for not losing weight faster, for having a stride that’s too short, and for eating a gluten free pop tart for a snack.  The YB got me, 

The YB also helps us justify choices (like that pop tart).  Yes, but I had a salad for lunch.  Yes, but I ran an extra 1/10th mile.

I’m giving my Yes, But[t] the heave ho.  I encourage you to do the same.  When someone remarks on your achievement, say, “Thank you, I’m so proud.”  When the YB creeps in as an excuse, ask yourself if what you want is worth delaying your goal.  If it is, then enjoy it and own it.  

 

 

 

just write what you know: taking that first step.

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I’ve lived in my town for 15 years now.  In that time, I’ve been mighty busy raising a family, going to school, and working at or running three businesses.  Down deep, I’m a pretty private person.  I’ve tried a lot of things.  I’ve succeeded at some of them, and I’ve failed miserably at others.  I’ve kept most of that to myself.

I don’t know why I don’t share more.  Part of me thinks nobody else would be interested.  Part of me thinks that other people will just think I’m trying to get attention.  I’m always surprised when I write something and 40, 50, or 100 people “like” it and/or comment.   Maybe it *is* interesting.  Maybe it *is* okay if other pay attention.  Maybe, just maybe, someone will find help, or hope, or strength, or joy in something I share.  

I’m going to just start writing what i know.  I know something about a lot of topics.  As a “jack of all trades,” these are a few of my areas of knowledge, for better or worse:

Family:  Marriage, divorce, raising a family, blending a family, losing family

Health:  celiac disease, morbid obesity, weight gain, weight loss, learning to exercise

Spirituality:  faith, loss of faith, searching for truth, 

Mental health:  psychology, psychobabbe, depression, anxiety, loss, learning to love myself

Cooking:  gluten free, casein free cooking

Misc:  laughter, spreading kindness

Currently, this blog has no one direction.  As it progresses, I may find a path for it to follow.  For now, though, I will just write what I know.