Our “rock bottom” moments

I have heard from tons of people already about my new adventure, publicly via this blog and Facebook, and through private messages. And one thing is already clear: We are all human with very human struggles and a deep desire to better ourselves.


We are also looking for a good kick in the pants to get us moving.

Take this comment:

“I could write a book about things my children have said to me (unintentionally) that SHOULD have been my rock bottom moments. Each time that happened, I promised myself I would start the next day. And then the next day. And then after the weekend … “

I can’t even count the moments that should have been THE final straw for me when it comes to weight loss. Many happened so long ago that I’ve been able to successfully repress the memories.

Others are pretty fresh:

The broken chair.

The seatbelt in the van not fitting.

Avoiding amusement parks because I know I won’t fit on the rides.

Having to ask for a seatbelt extender on a recent flight home.

Stuffing the seatbelt under my shirt on the next leg of the flight because I couldn’t bear to ask for a seatbelt extender again.

The 4-year-old who looked at me and said, “You’re fat!”

Each time, what should have been motivation turned to just another reason to hate myself, and in turn, to eat everything in sight.

Am I depressed because I’m fat, or fat because I’m depressed?

Who cares. I’m so sick of trying to figure that out. So sick of the excuses.

I saw this on a Facebook post today: “Imperfect action is better than perfect inaction.” -- Harry Truman

Isn’t that the truth? I’m gonna flub up. I promise you I won’t be perfect.

But I also promise that from now on, I’m gonna dust myself off and get right back up and keep going after every fall.

A good friend once told me, “There is no dress rehearsal for life. You don’t get any second chances to do this all again someday.”

What are we waiting for?

Our “rock bottom” moments

I have heard from tons of people already about my new adventure, publicly via this blog and Facebook, and through private messages. And one thing is already clear: We are all human with very human struggles and a deep desire to better ourselves.


We are also looking for a good kick in the pants to get us moving.

Take this comment:

“I could write a book about things my children have said to me (unintentionally) that SHOULD have been my rock bottom moments. Each time that happened, I promised myself I would start the next day. And then the next day. And then after the weekend … “

I can’t even count the moments that should have been THE final straw for me when it comes to weight loss. Many happened so long ago that I’ve been able to successfully repress the memories.

Others are pretty fresh:

The broken chair.

The seatbelt in the van not fitting.

Avoiding amusement parks because I know I won’t fit on the rides.

Having to ask for a seatbelt extender on a recent flight home.

Stuffing the seatbelt under my shirt on the next leg of the flight because I couldn’t bear to ask for a seatbelt extender again.

The 4-year-old who looked at me and said, “You’re fat!”

Each time, what should have been motivation turned to just another reason to hate myself, and in turn, to eat everything in sight.

Am I depressed because I’m fat, or fat because I’m depressed?

Who cares. I’m so sick of trying to figure that out. So sick of the excuses.

I saw this on a Facebook post today: “Imperfect action is better than perfect inaction.” -- Harry Truman

Isn’t that the truth? I’m gonna flub up. I promise you I won’t be perfect.

But I also promise that from now on, I’m gonna dust myself off and get right back up and keep going after every fall.

A good friend once told me, “There is no dress rehearsal for life. You don’t get any second chances to do this all again someday.”

What are we waiting for?

Oh, good gravy

And for that matter, good biscuits and mashed potatoes and steak and hamburgers and fries and pizza and cookies and cake and … Well, you get the point. Each and every one has caused me so much pleasure yet so much pain throughout the years.


Bad food has always kind of been like a secret lover for me. It makes me feel better when I’m down. I celebrate with it when I’m happy. I love it even though it doesn’t love me back. I try to hide it, yet everyone knows.

Heck, several years ago, I dumped the bad stuff for a couple of years. I started to gain my independence. My life didn’t revolve around it anymore.

I lost 90 pounds.

And then, slowly – and, like always, surely – it crept back into my life, filling the voids that nothing else did. I embraced it wholeheartedly and didn’t give a rip who knew it. I didn’t even hide it anymore. I LOVED BAD FOOD, AND I WAS GONNA SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS!

I’ve gained 140 pounds.

Think about that: 140 pounds. I’m carrying around an extra normal-sized woman.

It’s time she gets off my back.

Starting Monday, March 1, I’m changing my life. This has been a long time coming. Actually, I reserved this blog name a year ago, and it’s taken me this long to get up the courage to start.

I am going to take the steps necessary to get back the life that for so long, I’ve felt I don’t deserve. I am going to eat better. I am going to move more. I am going to actively enjoy my life – and my son’s – instead of watching it from the sidelines.

My husband is joining me in this adventure (and some co-workers say they will, too). He and I have a hefty but realistic goal: Lose 100 pounds by Dec. 31. We will need to lose 2.3 pounds a week to achieve that.

I hope you’ll join me on this adventure, too, if only for moral support. I have to lose this weight, and I need all the encouragement I can get.

I’ll write about it here along the way.

Sign up to follow this blog. Share your tips, your trials and your triumphs.

Let’s lose it.

Oh, good gravy

And for that matter, good biscuits and mashed potatoes and steak and hamburgers and fries and pizza and cookies and cake and … Well, you get the point. Each and every one has caused me so much pleasure yet so much pain throughout the years.


Bad food has always kind of been like a secret lover for me. It makes me feel better when I’m down. I celebrate with it when I’m happy. I love it even though it doesn’t love me back. I try to hide it, yet everyone knows.

Heck, several years ago, I dumped the bad stuff for a couple of years. I started to gain my independence. My life didn’t revolve around it anymore.

I lost 90 pounds.

And then, slowly – and, like always, surely – it crept back into my life, filling the voids that nothing else did. I embraced it wholeheartedly and didn’t give a rip who knew it. I didn’t even hide it anymore. I LOVED BAD FOOD, AND I WAS GONNA SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS!

I’ve gained 140 pounds.

Think about that: 140 pounds. I’m carrying around an extra normal-sized woman.

It’s time she gets off my back.

Starting Monday, March 1, I’m changing my life. This has been a long time coming. Actually, I reserved this blog name a year ago, and it’s taken me this long to get up the courage to start.

I am going to take the steps necessary to get back the life that for so long, I’ve felt I don’t deserve. I am going to eat better. I am going to move more. I am going to actively enjoy my life – and my son’s – instead of watching it from the sidelines.

My husband is joining me in this adventure (and some co-workers say they will, too). He and I have a hefty but realistic goal: Lose 100 pounds by Dec. 31. We will need to lose 2.3 pounds a week to achieve that.

I hope you’ll join me on this adventure, too, if only for moral support. I have to lose this weight, and I need all the encouragement I can get.

I’ll write about it here along the way.

Sign up to follow this blog. Share your tips, your trials and your triumphs.

Let’s lose it.