The Un-luckying of Lisa

Hi.

I am coming off of an amazing two weeks of meeting FFGs and Future FFGs in a variety of places--Brooklyn, NY last week at the SUNY Downstate Women's Health Fair ... here in Birmingham at the University of Alabama-Birmingham's Good Health program ... and just last night at an open house at Milestone books, again here in Birmingham. Meeting all of you, who are so welcoming, supportive of my message, willing to ask questions, challenge me, hear what I have to say--all of that just confirms for me that I'm doing what I need to be doing with my life.

When I was in Brooklyn, at the amazing Brooklyn Tabernacle, I kept hearing the word "blessed" a lot. So I started counting my blessings (the number of times I say the word, that is) ... and realized that I don't really say that word much. I say "lucky." But you know, I'm not lucky. I'm not lucky to have a beautiful, wonderful son who looked up at me last Sunday, amid the drudgery of the weekly grocery store visit, and said, "Mommy, I love being with you." I'm not lucky to have a husband that tolerates my uber-healthy cooking when he'd rather be eating barbecued ribs and pork n' beans. I'm not lucky to have friends willing to meet me in the freezing pre-dawn to run. I'm not lucky to have you to affirm me, support me, lift me up when I'm not sure why I do what I do.

I am blessed.

Right now, I vow to stop saying "lucky." Lucky implies a randomness, an accidental encounter. There's nothing random about the list I just ran through. Maybe I can use lucky if I ever take up poker, or Alabama gets a lottery. But there's a plan behind this whole life; there are reasons why I have been through what I've been through on the way here.

I thought a lot about that idea before I wrote my book. I don't for a second regret the struggles I had as a pre-Former Fat Girl. Even the most painful parts brought me to this place, gave me something to share, blessed me with the ability to share it.

So that's what's on my mind as we enter this Thanksgiving week--making sure I'm talking "blessings" as we're all taking "turkey."

have a "blessed" week.

Lisa D

A Little Forgiveness

Hi, FFG friends--

So, it's the morning after the morning after ... And if you have to ask "After what?" then you might be reading the wrong blog. As they say on Jeopardy, What is Halloween. The annual orgy of everything sugary and sweet. Satan's favorite holiday. The official kick off for the most challenging time of year for we FFGs and Future FFGs. I tell you, I don't have to go to a haunted house to get creeped out by guys soaked in fake blood--the scary scene in my own house is enough to make me run screaming. Not only have I had to deal with the bags of candy we bought to be distributed to the 100 million trick-or-treaters who come to our house annually (you'd think we REALLY got that many kids, judging by the massive bags we bought home from Kmart). Now I've got Johnny's plastic pumpkin full. And it's SO much more fun to dig through that, because you never know what you're going to find . . . Mini Junior Mints! Multicolored Kissables! (What's this? Temporary tattoos? BORING!) Those big, thick Tootsie Rolls! Tiny Chick-o-Sticks!

I've got to stop myself before I dive in and grab myself a handful.

So here we are, in the aftermath. Faced with the inevitable temptations. Working that INO. Trying to tune out that whiner in our heads ("Why can't I have one little piece, plleeeeeze?").

Doing our best to stick to the plan, whatever the plan might be.

Mine changes. Last night, I told myself I could have one of those mini bags of Peanut M&Ms, because those little nuggets of perfection might just be on my last meal list, if I had to give you one. So I ate them, one at a time, biting each in half and doing my best to make the bliss last. Meditating on the afterglow to will the flavor to remain as long as possible in my mouth.

And then, I thought . . . ooh, one of those big, fat Tootsie Rolls would be good. And they're not so bad . . . at least they're non-fat (as you can see, I was ready to justify about anything at that point). So I gave in. To that . . . and a few more Tootsie Rolls. And maybe a Hershey's Kiss or two. And . . .

I can just HEAR you all saying . . . that's NOTHING. Lemme tell you what I put away last night! But ladies, this is NOT a competition. I wouldn't say last night was a binge, but I certainly went way beyond the point where I intended to STOP.

And typically, what happens next is the usual internal lecture, the judgment and condemnation, the finger wagging disapproval. All that crap that leaves me (and all of us) feeling like dirt. And feeling like . . . I'm SUCH a piece of dirt, I don't deserve to treat myself and my body right. I don't DESERVE all the energy I put into learning how to eat right, planning my meals, psyching myself up to exercise, rewarding my progress, all that. Because a measly little pack of Peanut M&Ms can take me down in a split second.

One of the things that I have worked on over the years, and continue to work on DAILY, is forgiveness. I realized, at some point in this journey, that I was so willing to forgive everyone else their "weaknesses" (I put that in quotations because ... I hate that word! I don't really think they exist but I used it so you would know what I mean), but that somehow, I was unworthy of that forgiveness. Somehow, I was unforgivable. And that feeling of being unforgivable was one of the things keeping me stuck in my body and a way of thinking about myself that was unhealthy.

I have had to work to rewire that part of my brain so that I'm just as forgivable as the people closest to me. That I should forgive myself like I would forgive my child, my husband, my parents, my sister. That I should show the same compassion for myself as I would show for them. Or the kids on the UNICEF commercials. Because I am worthy of that compassion.

I think forgiveness is such a part of the Former Fat Girl journey that it might just be the 8th Secret. (Hey, I have a sequel!) We are who we are. We can always be better—but that doesn't mean we’re starting at BAD. We're just reaching for more, and because we're, uh, HUMAN, we'll be doing that all our lives.

Sooo. About that damn candy. Think about this:
--the 23 hours and 45 minutes yesterday that you WEREN'T eating it. I would say that's a mighty impressive feat. Congratulate yourself!
--the freezer. Laffy Taffy is horribly hard frozen. I know. I've tried it. Several times.
--the trash can. Hey, I hate waste more than anyone. But trashing the stuff is cheaper than therapy . . . and Weight Watchers . . . and a bigger pair of jeans. (Of course, I have to mix it up with other garbage or put the can out at the curb where the neighbors could see me digging anything out . . . because I have been known to do a little dumpster diving).
--the soldiers. OK, I know I'm not the only one who heard about the dentist who buys back Halloween candy and sends it to the troops in Iraq. I think we should start a FFG movement: Snickers for the Soldiers. We could all pack up our Halloween loot and ship it off. I think that's a little more socially responsible than foisting it on your poor co-workers.

More ideas welcome!

And remember . . . These are Trying Times. And I mean that two ways . . . they’re HARD times (because Thanksgiving and Christmas and Hanukkah and New Years . . . they're following close behind). But they're also times to think about the fact that your goal is to Just Try. To take those little steps that add up to FFG success. And to forgive yourself when you stumble, trip, fall. To remember that ... tomorrow is another chance to start fresh.

Your partner in this journey,

Lisa D