Welcome to Onederland

Hello everyone.

I know I have not been around for a while. There is something about kids and a house and cats and a husband that make it impossible at times for a second to write out ones thoughts.

I have had many thoughts lately, ranging from being accosted by some eight year old girl at the Evil Empire (Wal*Mart), Obama's speech on race and perception, going to work versus staying at home with my babies, closing schools and cell phones not keeping a charge.

I will tackle the above at some later date, but today I want to talk about the scale. And my clothes. And my face. And my fears, triumphs, and the realization there really is a difference between the journey and the destination.

As of today, I weigh 198.6 pounds. For the first time in at least eight years, I no longer weigh as much as the average football player. "1" might be the loneliest number but it's one I will take any time.

The feeling when the "1" was revealed was not as much of excitement as it was disbelief. Oddly enough, I did the usual scooting the scale around the bathroom floor to make sure it was not broken. It is sad and funny how when it read 201 the day or two before I didn't do the two step with the scale.

I am not sure why I am surprised.

I wore a sized 16 pair of jeans to the Jay Z/MJB concert. The shirts at Lane Bryant and The Avenue were too big even in the smallest size. I have had to put my wedding rings away as they are too loose to keep them safely on my finger anymore so I have had to replace them for the time being. I actually purchased a Joe Boxer shirt from KMart (for $2.00) in an XL and it fit.

Now what?

I know I should go through my closet and give away some clothes. For example, my two favorite, most comfortable pairs of pants that are NOT elastic have literally fallen off of me while walking through the house. So why do I insist on wearing them and not giving them away via the clothes drop box?

I am afraid to throw them away. I want to believe that I will never have the need for these clothes again. I honestly believe I will not allow that to happen. And then, here comes the doubt. What if I am being too sure of myself? What if I am being cocky and the Pucca Pele Fat gods punish me by breaking my band and having me gain the weight back again?

Once again, I find myself surprised at how daunting a task letting go is for me. I understand I need not only to shed the clothes that no longer fit, but the fear and doubt that go along with the change. It is time to clean out the closets.

So, today, before I lay my head on the pillow, I have vowed to go to my closet and pack up the clothes I can no longer wear. The ones that have the tag 18/20 or 2x or XXL. I am not going to keep them "just in case".

I am a firm believer in a back up plan, however, going back to being fat is a plan I can surely do without.

Since it is not only the physical but the mental closet that needs a good spring cleaning, I am doing something for me today. I am going to make the honest effort to publish my writings. There is a local newspaper in town that I feel strongly could use my services *smile*. The worse thing that could happen is that they say "no thank you". The best thing they could say is "well alright, come on in."

If the latter does not happen I do have a back up plan. It does not involve drowning my sorrows in cookies or ice cream, nor will I be stashing an old pair of clothes in the back of the closet for just in case.

Maybe having a back up is a cop out. Well, lets not be hasty. How about Il make plans that have low failure rates , therefore, making a back up virtually obsolete?

Right now, I plan to take Max to the Wildlife Preserve where he can chase birds and frogs that we encounter on the trail. I plan to finish Nala's wake up chart that will incorporate any grumpiness she needs to get out of her system and maybe even a good morning dance.

I will ask Tim to set the alarm for five minutes earlier so we can have time to talk and tell each other our dreams before we forget them and the kids wake up. And I plan to enjoy my gradual dissent into "Onederland".

Until the next time,
Your Recovering Fat Girl
Mikki