Goodbye Scale. Hello Life.

Dear Followers, (sheesh, what's to follow?? I haven't posted since September!)

I completely apologize for being MIA. But I've soured on the diet concept and have decided that it's ... well, just wrong. I lost any desire to focus on it, much less write about it. My last post of, yikes! six months ago sums up how my thoughts about "diets" have evolved but a couple of beliefs have truly crystallized since then. They have to do with:

THE DREADED NUMBERS
While we think that focusing on the dreaded numbers is a smart thing to do while trying to lose weight, it's really sabotage. All that attention and energy that goes toward the numbers ... what the scale says, counting the calories, carbs, grams, units, points, measuring the inches ... all that simply fuels one idea. "I am fat."

I've read this or heard it said in a dozen different ways by mentors and motivators .... Marianne Williamson, Mike Dooley, Martha Beck, Rick Hanson, just to name a few. Our obsession with weight has led to our obsession with weight. We create our own arena for happiness and health; it simply depends on where we put the energy. Shut off the "weight" valve and turn on the "health" valve. One of my favorite guys, Mike Dooley, says it simply in his latest book, Manifesting Change.

Since perspective is such an important concept, let's look at the example of wanting to lose weight. If your only action were to buy diet, low-fat, low-calorie, low-this and low-that foods, such behavior would perpetuate your condition (no matter how much visualizing you did) because every single purchase would be screaming to the Universe, "I have a weight problem!" And the Universe would reply, "I heard you the first seven hundred times, and it's done!"

In other words, the Universe lovingly dishes up whatever you order from the menu.

Months ago I decided not to weigh myself anymore. My gauge is now how I look and feel, and how my clothes fit. I'm still wearing the same dress size as I was a year ago and yep, at times my clothes are quite snug and at times they are not. Whatever! I'm healthy! My 57-year old body has been so good to me! I'm happy! I'm not trying to look like I'm 25 anymore! Shut up! And let's remember that it is normal for a woman in her 40s, 50s and beyond to have the padding and reserves that comes in the form of a muffin top. What's not normal is to be fairly lean at this age. Not justifying added pounds, just saying we need to recognize and accept what nature has intended for us, and stop slamming ourselves for a muffin top! Which brings me to the single most important thing I have done in the past six months. I've decided to ....

STOP CRITICIZING MY BODY
The positive effects I've seen from that decision have been tremendous. I mean, really. This poor body .... after all the abuse it's taken and all the crappy things I've dumped into it over the years ... has stood by me, forgiven me, loved me, and housed my thriving spirit! I began to think of my body as a sweet little child whose super-horrible-meanie-parent continually criticizes and berates her and no matter how loyal and devoted she is, she just can't seem to do anything to please the cruel parent. The poor little thing constantly struggles to thrive and protect but only feels hatred in return. This breaks my heart. But when I shut off the criticism and turned on the gratitude, amazing things happened. My body image changed substantially. Not only do I see my body with new eyes (yep, muffin top and all) but my body responds to the love and gratitude with a healthier attitude about food and fitness. It's circuitous, folks. Circuitous. Very important word. Love and gratitude begets love and gratitude begets love and gratitude and on and on and on. (Works on people too.)

Now, please don't think for one minute that I claim to have mastered all of these fabulous concepts and practice them 1000% of the time. I believe these concepts to be true and I am doing really well! But I'm a student of the Universe right alongside the rest of you ... learning, growing and progressing. That's the beauty of our lives, knowing that we can always grow. We are forever ripening.

I want to thank you, dear followers, for coming down this unexpected path with me. I hope you've found it to be as illuminating as I have. Funny how that works ... you start out with a certain plan and what you end up with is so, SO much better. Because if you keep your mind open and an ear tuned to the magical force that guides us, the Universe will lay gifts at your feet. And those gifts will be joy, health, love, abundance and more ... if that's what you've ordered from the menu.

Good-bye diet blog. This is my last post. I've launched a new blog called A Ripening Life, which is MUCH more fun. I hope to write about and celebrate the everyday beauty of our lives. It is a place for honest thoughts, tender words, a big dash of hilarity, and your welcomed ideas.

Please come on over. www.aripeninglife.blogspot.com

With thanks and fondness,
Michelle

That was then and this is now. Unfortunately.

Despite the fact that we see ourselves as forever young in our delusional little brains, it just ain't so. Our once resilient bodies and our fast running metabolisms have changed drastically and to us, it seems like overnight. Who's the cute dude to the left? Mr. Melter of 64 sticks of butter, at a pretty good clip, I might add. Yep, that's Mike at UC Berkeley, circa 1978. That was then.

And this is now. We don't look like we used to and we can't eat like we used to. It's hard to accept. Where's the magic bullet that can make this whole shift in metabolism easier?

Ice cream, french fries, cheeseburgers, beer and more ... once devoured without a care in the world or one ounce gained, are now off limits. Well, for the most part. And the bod ... well, gone are the blond locks (the shag) and the mini skirt legs. Long gone. Now I wonder what's up with these road maps on my legs and this dry, dry, dry fire hazard of a haystack on my head? And the baggy knees? I need a knee lift, fercrissake.

Back in the day, most of us sailed through the 70s on zero exercise, (gyms hadn't been invented yet, am I right people?) all-nighters involving kegs of beer, followed by late night runs to Jack in the Box. Fast forward to midlife: now those late night runs are to the bathroom, the beer is replaced by Metamucil and the all-nighters are, up-all-night-waiting-for-kids-to-pull-safely-into-the-driveway, preferably not having spent the evening behaving as we did at their age. Are you with me?

Recently Mike had his annual physical and he talked to his doctor about controlling his cholesterol. Because of side effects Mike can't take statin drugs to lower it, so he asked the question, "then how can you control it?" Doc's answer: You control very simply with a healthy diet and consistent exercise. (Doc actually recommends a Mediterranean diet.) So that's IT? Diet and exercise? Well, we already know that, right? Magic bullet, please. Hmm, you know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that the magic bullet is Acceptance with a capital A. That we finally, finally Accept the fact that we must, must control our health with good diet and consistent exercise. "But we don't wanna," we all wail. I know, but this is now.

No, we're not the beer swilling college kids we once were. We can't pound drinks, give in to late night munchies, or do any number of things we used to do. Aww man, who wants to go back there anyway? That was then. Let's move forward. Are you with me?

But hell, all this talk makes me wanna get a JITB Super Taco. Just kidding. Sorta.

Meltdown: Day One

This is the story of a couple of pudgy mid-lifers, both about 16 pounds overweight and relatively out of shape ... who are about to melt 128 sticks of butter off of those inflated bodies. Meet my husband Mike and moi, Michelle. We are native Californians, transplanted to Austin, Texas 12 years ago, where we quickly learned that the state entree, chicken fried steak, was worthy of a search for the best in town. The rest is history.

Increasingly frustrated with countless failed attempts over the past few years to not only take the weight off, but worse, to watch the pounds pile on and on ... we've decided to have another serious go at it but THIS time, we're making ourselves publicly accountable (and most likely, regrettably humiliated) by blogging about it. Sort of like turning up the heat. Which will hopefully melt the butter.

Coincidentally, Mike and I both need to lose 16 lbs. to get to an ideal weight. Reality check: that being an ideal weight for this age, not that of our 25 year old, long-gone bodies. So we're thinking maybe this is the perfect time for both of us to get on board, support each other, eat the same, and yep ... add a dash of competition to get to the finish line. And stay there.

And you may be thinking ...hey, 16 lbs. doesn't sound like a lot to lose, what's the big deal? Just do it. After all, there are so many people who have so admirably lost loads more ...75, 100, 150 lbs. even! I can't imagine the courage and determination it must take to lose a tremendous amount of weight and my hat goes off to these folks. I wish I knew why it's been so hard to lose this weight, but I don't. What I do know is that at some point along the way this mere 16 lbs. has somehow morphed me from fairly-normal-looking-lady to linebacker.

It's got to go.

So ... 16 lbs. to lose = 64 sticks of butter. Or, 32 lbs. collectively = 128 sticks of butter. Imagine strapping on 64 sticks of butter. You got your duct tape and you got your 64 sticks and you start taping. Where would they go? Me, I got 39 sticks around the belly, 20 on the linebacker shoulders and neck, 2 on each cheek and one under the chin.

We all know that "diet" is a 4 letter word, meaning "temporary eating plan." I-stay-on-the-diet-until-I-reach-my-goal-and-then-I-can-chow-down sort of thing. Fuhgeddaboutit. Our weight loss plan will not be specifically Weight Watchers, South Beach or Atkins plan (all great ones, for sure) but of the Common Sense variety. Not just your basic cheeseburger + bread pudding = regret. But stuff we already know works and have continually chosen to ignore. Stuff tailored specifically to Mike and me with a little wiggle room so that we don't give up due to absolute deprivation and frustration. Oh, and that exercise part too. Mmmph.

128 sticks of melted butter deadline? December 31, 2009.

I'll be posting our progress every few days along with silly photos and smart-alecky remarks. I hope you'll follow us as we begin our meltdown ... be our cheerleaders, share your insights and maybe even find our journey somewhat useful to your own. Because it's not just about the 128 sticks of butter. It's about this transition that all mid-lifers are faced with; that confusing place between young and old. Suddenly there's the extra girth, the double chin, the blond gone gray, and we're reeling from the shock that we're no longer our young familiar selves. Acceptance of aging is important but it's also a slippery slope. Butter makes it even more slippery. Let's figure it out, people.