I was always scrawny as a stick until my mom became terminally ill in 2009. Getting up at 3AM to get to my office to work four hours, grabbing a breakfast sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit to wolf down on the hour and a half drive to her hospital to be there for doctor rounds, swallowing whatever garbage the hospital cafeteria offered up (why aren’t these institutions paragons of whole and healthy food?), and coming home so beat that wise food choices weren’t even an option…guaranteed recipe for disaster. Bring on the bacon nachos and devil dogs, with wine chasers please. Then one day I woke up, looked in the mirror and stared into the unfamiliar face of Weighty Katie.
Weight Watchers started me on the road to recovery, but they pushed too many packaged, processed products for my liking, so I ditched them and went it alone.
Walking four miles a day, usually on the beach, hitting the gym four times a week for weight training, yoga twice a week, and a bit of Zumba for good measure; these were my tickets out of Tubbyville. I stopped eating anything that was prepackaged or processed. If it comes in a box or plastic, it does not enter my mouth. I have become an organic whole foods advocate, and boy, have the results been worth it. Every week I walk into my huge closet and pull out beautiful dresses, blouses, or jeans I couldn’t even zip up two years ago. And they fit, easily ! Free shopping and a brand new wardrobe. Bye bye three sizes! You are gone for good unless I have another terminally ill loved one.
For anyone who has lost a significant amount of weight, where exactly does it go? Did I lose part of an upper arm somewhere on Interstate 95? Did a chunk of thigh leap off into the sand one day while I was walking on the beach? Where does this mess disappear to? Is there a special resting place for discarded bodily molecules, and if so, do they all need therapy due to their perpetual state of rejection? Deep thoughts to ponder.
I will be disappearing in another way as well, at least temporarily. I have decided to move back to Nowhere Texas to live near family. Things always come full circle. Who would have thunk it? I will be safe there, amidst my gun-totin, ammunition-laden, militia-joining, highly protective male relatives. They just love to shoot weasels and other vermin.
I will be busier than a one-legged dog with fleas for the forseeable future. Locating a new casa in the beautiful Texas hill country, finding the perfect job, and reconnecting with my past life are going to be consuming my universe. I will be absent from this blog for a bit of time, though I will be keeping up with all of yours; I will need the giggles.
My lifeboat has finally reached that distant shore. I can’t wait to disembark and discover the exciting future that I know is waiting. A special thanks to Donna T. and all the wonderful workers at Caroline’s House who took me into their shelter and gave me courage and hope when I felt I had neither. Ladies, you were all right; fractured Cinderellas CAN be put back together again, just like Humpty Dumpty. God bless your generous hearts. Keep up your good work.
Now I’m off to return to my past and channel my inner Twiggy. Bring on those size 8’s!