July

July 9, 2001
I come home trying hard to hold back the tears. I can't believe it! Over 251 lbs!
I'm disgusted and heartsick. But more so, I am afraid.
I'm afraid I won't lose the weight, that I will sabotage myself the first chance I get.
That I will fail. That the fat lady in the picture is my future.
I see my husband in the driveway and try to sneak past him.
"How did it go?" he asks.
I look at him for a long moment, my heart skips a beat. I can't speak.
"Well?" he asks.
"Any guesses how much I weigh," I ask him, praying he has remembered husbands must tread carefully when asked such questions. He looks at me a long time, takes a deep breath and says,
"Uh......about 240????" hope in his eyes that he has passed that test.
Bless his heart. His honesty is touching, and his love for me enough
to tell the truth brings tears to my eyes.
"Close," I say as I move into the comforting circle of his arms where I feel neither fat or thin,
just totally and unconditionally loved.

July 10, 2001
This is so confusing! Points, journalling!
I sit down at the kitchen table, points book and journal in my hand. I look up steak - five pt.s for four ounces. Corn? One cup is two points. Mashed potatoes? 1/2 a cup is two points.
It doesn't take me long to realize that I will have to make some hard choices.
With only 28-31 points to spend in one day I can see something's got to change.
So I get out the lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, green onions and send hubby
to the store for fish, fruit and low fat salad dressing.
I tell myself it's OK. If I do well this week I plan on treating myself
to a McDonald's Extra Meal. Yum!

July 13, 2001
"Your cholesterol was so high we can't measure it. Your blood sugar is a concern and your good cholesterol is way too low. We want to see your blood pressure down too," said my doctor.
I stare at him. Is he talking about me? The one person in this whole world who can cheat death?
The one person who can live the way she wants without repercussion?
He pulls out a chart and begins to calculate my risk of heart attack.
"You have a 15 per cent chance of having a heart attack within the next ten years," he tells me somberly. I continue staring - a million questions scrambling for an answer. My heart beats a thousand times a minute. "What if I lose the weight?" I ask him. "What if I start exercising?" I add.
He looks at me, this 251 lb. behemoth of a woman, blinks twice and says,
"Uh, maybe. Let's see what you do in a couple of months. We'll re-do the tests then," he finishes, skepticism in his face. My blood pressures rises even more at his look.
"You don't think I can do it. Do you?" I challenge him, anger colouring my face. He looks back at me. No answer. I get up, grab my purse, head for the door, and turn back to look at him.
"I'm not just one of your regular patients, you know. I know you've heard it a thousand times before, but I'm telling you now - I'm going to do this!" I grab the door, turn back around once last time to see the look on his face. Still disbelieving. I guess I'll just have to show him!

July 16, 2001
I think I'm going to throw up. My stomach churns. Today is the day.
My first weigh in.
What if this program doesn't work? What if I calculated the points wrong? What if my body rebels and decides it's just going to have it's way with me?
Gingerly I step on the scales. My heart is thumping, palms are clammy, I truly think I'm going to faint.
"Good job!" says the leader.
Good job? How good???? I grab the card from her and look at the numbers. 247.2, -4.6. Huh?
I do a little dance, my face lights up, I smile and turn to the next poor overweight sucker.
"Next?" I say.
The meeting goes by in a daze. All I want is to run home and tell my husband. Then I remember, I decided to not get that McDonalds that week after all. I decide that staying on plan is more important to me than any fast food burger that doesn't fit into my point schedule.
I begin to think, "I can do this!"

July 23, 2001
Why is my stomach in knots again? I have followed the plan to a T, meticulously weighing and measuring everything. I even including walking into my health regime - me, a couch potato.
A conniseur of sedentary life. Surely the scales will reward me.
Won't they?
I go pee, (get rid of those extra ounces!), then step up to the scale. No way I will do as well this time. It's just not possible.
"Wow! That's great Karen," my leader says as she scribbles my weight on my card.
"Really?" I ask.
"How great?"
"Down 5.8 lbs." she answers.
"For a grand total of 10.4 lbs." she finishes.

July 30, 2001
I finish the month with a total loss of 14.2 lbs - down to 237.6 lbs. I am flying, soaring - a bird in flight on the warm winds of success. I think I can almost touch heaven.
It's hard to believe that I haven't gone off plan. It's even harder to believe that I haven't felt the urge.
I no longer drink coffee with cream and sugar, I no longer drink Coke by the litre. I don't miss them.
Of course, I know that the major part for the tremendous mind shift is the support I have found at Boot Camp Buddies, a website with members who believe there's never any reason to go off plan, that all things are possible if they're planned for. They're tough. And scarey! They will kick my butt if I go to the forum and tell them I have gone off plan. I take pride in remaining "OP", (On Plan). I wear it as a badge of honour. I wear it with dignity.
But more importantly, I am doing this for me, and for my family. I don't want them having to care for a 251 lb. woman who's had a stroke. I don't want them to have to wash my bum. To feed me an undefinable liquid in a tube.
I don't want to lose my dignity!
I don't want to lose my life.