My Math Skills Need Polishing!

I have embarked on this journey without weighing myself the first time. Knowing my propensity to measure success or failure by a digital readout, I had NO desire to be enslaved to that tyranny.

A couple of weeks ago, however, I participated in a research study that involved taking my weight which was recorded in kilograms. I did a quick math calculation in my head and realized I was just a smidge over 200 pounds.

Here's the thing, though, I MISCALCULATED.

Now, I won't keep you in suspense... it was a wonderfully, wonderful miscalculation, as the real number is 187.(I emailed the researcher just to be sure I wasn't delusional!) YES!!! Not only have I dropped into the 100's but I am seriously below the 200 mark!!!

All along, I've been estimating my weight loss. I'm pretty sure I started in the 260 range. (Based on my previous experience with Weight Watchers and knowing how my clothes fit at my last measured weight of 250, I'm very confident that 260 is about right, maybe even a little low.)

That means I have lost in the neighborhood of 70 freakin' pounds. Holy cow! Holy cow! Holy cow!

For over a decade, I have despaired of ever being healthy and fit, and it is quite amazing to be in this place of having lost EVEN MORE weight than I thought I had lost. I'm psyched for the next leg of the journey!

Beach Glass

I must be losing quite a bit of weight this week. I'm in the midst of a creative decorating burst of energy that serves weight loss in two significant ways: 1)I get so engaged in the process of creating beautiful space that I forget to eat, and 2)I have so much adrenaline and joy that I imagine my body's furnace is at peak efficiencyNote: This is more a decorating blog than about fitness, but, for me creating is a huge indicator of overall wellness. I've added an addendum at the end about how this pertains to disability for those who are interested..



On Monday, I looked at my bedroom and groaned. Full of boxes of Christmas decorations, with no room to even move, an unmade bed and a color scheme (periwinkle and apple green) that never made my heart sing the way I envisioned it would, I set out on an Internet journey to gain inspiration.

I am crazy about cottage/beach/coastal decor. I love the simplicity, the use of thrifted, vintage and natural finds, the fresh color palettes, and I could go on all day. I decided to turn my bedroom into a white-on-white neutral haven, and I knew I would have to do it on a bare bones budget. My bedroom had other ideas for a color scheme, as it would turn out.



Intending from the beginning to paint the walls a calm sand or pale blue, I began looking through the house for accessories that might fit the scheme. With my ivory iron bed and linen white painted furniture, the bones of the dreamy cloud-like space I envisioned were in place.

I found a striped shirt with the perfect shades of oatmeal, sea grass green, and sky blue that was in the Goodwill box of clothes that no longer fit. I found an oatmeal colored cable knit sweater that cried to be made into a large, comfy bed pillow. I found my book of botanicals (a great used book sale find that has served my decorating inspiration for years)and exchanged the periwinkle colored flowers above my bed, for white wildflowers...so serene and lovely in the white frames.
A trip to Goodwill yielded a linen skirt the perfect shade of heavenly blue that I'm turning into more bed pillows. I also found two lovely pencil sketches of sea scenes that fit perfectly in my frames made of old tin ceiling tiles. Oh, and the find of the day: four small purses, a buck each, made of neutral materials like burlap, wicker, macrame. (I hung them over my dressing area to hold makeup and other beauty products... love this.)







So, I've been a madwoman this week... bleaching white my periwinkle quilt, making pillows, painting a bookshelf, making a burlap bed skirt, sewing bunting (using that discarded shirt!), painting odds and ends a lovely Benjamin Moore shade called Palladian Blue. I found an old encyclopedia with a lovely map of the Caribbean that I framed.

Interestingly, as the project progressed, I realized that I love the zing of the apple green walls against the serene blue, white, and beige. It reminds me of beach glass, and my heart soars when I enter the space. Best of all, it's only cost about $20!

I know I am most well when my creative juices are flowing like they have been this week. I've been so happy and serene. It brings me great joy to take a hodge podge of inexpensive and unlikely items and find new and beautiful uses for them and to create a simple yet beautiful home. (Oh yikes, the rest of the house is upside down from the project... NOT simple or beautiful right now! Guess I'll just go in my bedroom and shut the door.)

Addendum: As I was sewing, after writing this post, I flashed to the memory of a middle-aged woman in a wheelchair from my adolescent years whom my father assisted with rides to church. At the time, I was only recently diagnosed with CMT and told I would be in a wheelchair by age 18. I remembered the feeling of deep, deep sadness when we picked Mildred up from her dingy, dirty apartment. The only furniture I recall was a battered metal tv tray. The overall feeling of the apartment was one of desolation and hopelessness. Is it any wonder that I feared becoming disabled so desperately since my few encouters with people with disabilities revealed such emptiness of beauty. I think that weekly trip to church was one of Mildred's few outings and connection with other people.

So, today, I said a prayer of gratitude for the richness of my life in a wheelchair. I thanked God for the ability to drive,for modest financial means, for having a sweet, little home, and for the opportunity to maybe show others that disability doesn't have to mean despair. That one can lead a full, rich life without legs that function well. And one can live that life in an environment that is beautiful.

Fashion: Who Knew How Motivating It Could Be

I rarely read on weight-loss blogs of anybody enjoying their body TODAY... it seems to be about looking forward to that far off goal weight, and THEN being able to buy cute clothes, look good, etc.

Today, I cleaned out my closets and decided to get rid of any clothes that are baggy. It was hard. There were alot of clothes that I wore last fall in which I felt beautiful. I really didn't want to see them go. And yet, anything with a "2" in it is now too big (20, 22, 2x)and needs to find a new home with somebody, hopefully, who will find the same delight in their beauty that I found while dressing nicely.

Last September, for the first time in ten years, I began to become aware of fashion. (Prior to that time, I really just "got by" with what I could find on the rack in the Plus-Size departments, usually black pants and a nice top, but nothing that would really draw attention to myself.) I began to SHOP. And, oh how I began to SHOP! I discovered a treasure trove of clothing as well as purses, jewelry, scarves, etc. at Goodwill and other thrift stores. I can delight myself for an entire afternoon at the local Goodwill putting together a new and creative "one of a kind" outfit... I go in with a spirit of adventure and a "what new treasures will appear today" attitude. I have found fabulous clothing, and on the last weekend of the month, everything is 50% off! When I need a little boost or need to focus on something other than food, for a few dollars I can have a little fashion fix. It's quite intoxicating.

In years past, while dieting, I would ONLY buy cute clothing that was in my goal size. While losing weight, I never indulged in nice clothing since I didn't want to invest money in clothing that would, hopefully, be too big in a few short weeks.

I can't describe enough what a BOOST this new way of dressing and being fashionable with my current size is providing to my self-esteem, and how it fuels the desire to keep getting healthier and more fit. When I feel attractive, sexy, even beautiful TODAY, I am much less prone to eat crap or to be a slug in front of the television. Beautiful women take care of themselves. Women who know they are beautiful, who feel beatiful, much more effortlessly choose a banana over icecream, and that response becomes the groove, making lifelong maintenance a more real probability.

My advice to anybody on a weight-loss journey: Go shopping and buy yourself some fabulous clothes and accessories in which you feel beautiful. Indulge! (And that doesn't have to break the bank!) Give yourself frequent opportunities to shop for fun fashions at thrift stores. Enjoy accessories. Enjoy your beauty every day. I promise, you won't regret it!

And when you find yourself becoming too small to wear those wonderful clothes, enjoy passing them along to another person who's following similar paths on their journey towards wellness.

Good Enough

This morning, while languishing in bed, slowly wakening to the day, I drifted around in my head with free floating thoughts. I found myself reaching down and feeling ribs and delighting in my "new" bony body. (For years, I didn't even know I had bones! :)0) I went from that place of delight and self-satisfaction, however, to calculating the amount of weight I would have to lose each week between now and Kelly's graduation in order to be a size 10. What???

Why am I sabotaging my journey with thoughts like that!!!

This journey has been radically different, and radically successful, too, because I've followed a different mindset than the "how do I get to the goal fast as possible in order to be good/right/beautiful, etc." one that has entrapped me most of my life.

Yes, I will keep doing what I'm doing... loving my body, relishing in my beauty, taking exquisite care of me... and I will be healthier and no doubt, thinner and stronger, too, at the end of May, but that day will just be another day on the journey. If I'm a size 14 or a size 10, either way, I'll be beautiful and triumphant.

I love losing weight and getting healthier. I love getting physically stronger. I love looking and feeling sexier. But, I must avoid that trap that says, "I am only good enough if/when I get to such and such a size and I must get there as fast as possible." I'm good enough today, and I will be good enough at Kelly's graduation, but only if I believe that to be true.

Adventure, Vulnerability, and Pain

Yesterday morning I was all, "Yeh! Vulnerability! That's where it's at, Baby!" ...even posted a link to a wonderful speaker giving a talk on the subject. And then I went out to live my day, and had an experience that reminded me that living vulnerably isn't always easy and it doesn't always feel so good.

As part of my quest to live expansively this year, I responded to an email that told of a trial being conducted at the nearby University in the Kinesiology and Sports Medicine Department that was seeking manual wheelchair users as participants in an experiment to measures the energy out-put expended by a chair user at different rolling speeds and on different terrains. (As a result of this research, a device may potentially become commercially available that would allow wheelchair users to measure their daily activity level much the way able-bodied people use pedometers.)

Because I've been working out for the last year, I was able to approach this opportunity with a bit of daring and confidence. I thought it would be a simple matter of rolling up and down a hallway a few times, which for somebody who rides her Nustep an hour a day and uses resistance bands, it would be a cakewalk.

When I pulled onto campus at the Health Physics building, I felt remnants of old anxiety about gym class. I sat there telling myself, "Lynna, remember this is an adventure. It's supposed to be fun. What do you need to tell yourself to reclaim that joyful sense of adventure?" For 15 minutes I simply breathed... "Breathe in Joy" "Breathe out Dread" "Breathe in love of my body" "Breathe out hatred of my body" "Breathe in Mirth" "Breathe out Anxiety" ...

That calming breathing relieved alot of my anxiety, and I had my sense of humor and adventure back when I met Scott (the PhD candidate who was doing the research) and Stacey (a grad student assistant). I did have a moment or two of thinking, "Lynna, why have you willingly submitted yourself into an environment that is so athletic. So full of people who are stunning physical specimens of athleticism. So full of young, strong, able, athletic bodies?" It was more anxiety inducing than I anticipated.

One of the preparations for the experiment included being weighed. Blessedly, they said my weight in kilograms. (I googled the conversion factor later at home where I learned that even though I haven't been weighing during my weight loss journey, I am "spot on" as to my actual weight and I'm sliding into the 100s, almost there.)

After hooking me up to a slew of monitors and strapping on a mask that covered my face from nose to chin to measure CO2 output(I felt like I was being prepared for a space shuttle launch), we headed outdoors for the building where we would conduct the trial. I was so intent on wheeling across the bumpy terrain, negotiating street crossings, etc. that I was completely oblivious to the fact that I was on a university campus wearing a face mask in a wheelchair. I have no clue if people stared or if they even noticed. Interesting.

When we arrived at the athletic center, I learned that we would conduct three indoor trials. I was asked to maintain a constant speed circling the hallway for 8 minutes. I'm not used to pushing my wheelchair using the outer rim only, (I push against the rubber tire, too), but the experimental data required all the force to be against the outer rim. During the first trial, I was concentrating so hard on going the correct and steady speed while wheeling correctly that I unknowingly rubbed the skin of both thumbs against the rubber tires and rubbed away enough tissue that it was bleeding.

I joked about being willing to bleed for the sake of science, and we began the next trial at an increased speed. Interestingly, a group of about 50 ROTC students had assembled in part of the hallway for a drill, and we had to pass by them as I wheeled harder and faster, huffing and puffing in my sexy face mask. Fun.

Scott suggested we skip the third and fastest indoor trial (perhaps realizing that the highest speed would exceed my ability, and we set out for the outdoor running track about a block away. With its rubberized surface, it would provide additional data regarding increased energy out-out against more resistance. Within twenty seconds on the track, however, we realized I did not have the strength to complete that trial at the speed for which it had been designed.

We headed back to the office, and I felt how I used to feel in gym class when I gave my best effort, but still fell short... ashamed, inadequate and weak. Back at the office, I disengaged of all the monitors and Scott cleaned and bandaged my wounds. I was being paid a small stipend for my participation, and I joked that was the going rate for donating a pound of flesh. Fortunately, the data obtained during the first two trials was useful, so all was not in vain. (That was salve on my guilt of not contributing what was expected or hoped.)

This morning, as I'm reflecting on yesterday's experience, I realize that there is wisdom to be gained from this.

Adventure can be painful, and it's usually not what we expect it will be.
Even when it's not what we expect it will be, it can be valuable.
I'm not as fit as I thought I was, but now I have a much better benchmark against which to measure future gains in fitness. (One day I may be able to wheel around that track even faster and longer than the trial parameters.)
I need to alternate my Nustep work with outside exercise in my wheelchair. Scott used the term "specificity of activity"... if I want to be competent and athletic rolling my chair... well... simply, I need to practice rolling my chair. The river pathway would be the perfect place to do that... nice, level terrain in a gorgeous setting. (Twice a week to start...)
Stacy showed me more resistance band exercises and I am incorporating them into my routine.
I'm emotionally healthy enough to roll around on a campus in a goofy looking mask. (How many people have the self-esteem to do that!)
Sometimes pushing yourself to do something that feels awkward is a win.
If you take a risk and fail, it's still a win.
This adventure was definitely a win, and I'm so glad I did it, even if my arms are aching, and my thumbs will take a few days to heal.

I love this goal of mine to try different, wacky, out of the box adventures at least once a month in 2011. I love stretching myself and reaching for new horizons. Good stuff, even if it can be a little bit painful or uncomfortable at times.

"Secret" to Wellness

http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html


A friend posted this talk on his facebook page. Take 20 minutes to watch this very wise social scientist give a talk that is both illuminating and like watching a stand-up comedian.

I found everything she said to be relevant to my life, my journey, my experiences of wellness. She talks about the role of vulnerability (our ability to be vulnerable with people and to be real about who we are) as foundational to well being.

See what you think. I'll write more on this in upcoming posts.

Resurrection Life

Ten years ago, about the time I began my spiritual journey, and at the time my disability was beginning to progress from "hidden" to "visible", I remember praying while in deep distress, "God, please help me survive this long enough to see my daughter graduate from high school."

My disability does NOT shorten life span, I just couldn't envision WANTING to live beyond fulfilling my obligation to see my children into adulthood.

Well, Kelly graduates this year.

And I am sitting here today remembering that prayer and those feelings of desolation, and can do nothing but just thank God for the healing I have received in the past decade. Oh, to be sure, my disability has NOT been healed. It has progressed significantly from necessitating a hiking staff for a little extra balance to using a wheelchair full-time.

But, I have been healed. I sit here today marveling at my life. Marveling at the way I have changed. Marveling that I am growing increasingly healthier physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. In every way a person can be healed, I have received miraculous doses of grace.

One year ago, when I quit my job, bereft in the wilderness, I could not see a path in the midst of the fog. Even so, I focused attention on my body and began to show it love and care by healthier food choices and daily exercise. Today, I am about 60 pounds lighter, light-years healthier, and have strengthened muscles that had atrophied almost into non-existence. I feel sexy, healthy, confident, and OH SO ABLE!

In contrast to that woman a decade ago who wanted to die in 2011, I am exploring options for living life to the fullest extent, even in ways that were unimaginable to me a year ago, and were completely preposterous a decade ago. I am approaching life as a daring adventure. I feel like Lewis and Clarke setting out for an exploration of the vast and wild unknown west.

Today, I spent the day filling out an application for a year-long internship with an organization in Washington D.C. If I am selected, I will live in community with five other interns and serve the organization for a year, living a simple and radical life of Christian community and discipleship. I doubt the organization expects middle-aged, disabled applicants, and I await with great curiosity to see how they will respond.

And if they don't see a fit, I will be entirely cool with that. It will just lead me back onto the trail to explore the next vista around the bend.

I'm living! And it feels like resurrection!

Who Needs Friends Like This?

My friend P.has been the BEST accountability partner ever. She has faithfully read this blog for almost two years now. (That in itself is a stunning act of loyalty!) Every time I've written about feeling deflated, she has been there with an encouraging word. She believes in ME! She believes in my fitness quest, and she even calls me a "writer". (Oh, how I love this woman!) When she prays with me, it is as though she has inserted herself into my soul and offers it up to God. Truly astonishing.

All of that makes what I am about to write about her stunning act of betrayal all the more... well... stunning.

P., seemingly being a good friend, gave me a bar of "friendship" soap for Christmas. Handmade soap that smells like heaven. Here's the problem, though... EVERY TIME I take a shower, smelling the scent of cloves, I have an insane desire for glazed ham. I can see it sitting on a platter, all succulent and covered with pineapple rings and bright little red dots of maraschino cherries. It's surrounded by heaping bowls of potato salad, baked beans, deviled eggs. Once a day, thanks to (evil) P., I have to wrestle this insane desire for baked pork.

As if that's not bad enough, I suspect that when I leave my house and go into public, the light scent of cloves that wafts from my body triggers other peoples' desires, too. I wonder in Honey Baked Ham sees an upsurge in business on the days that I am in public?

I never knew that taking a shower could be such a dangerous trigger!

Beware, people, beware. Evil can be disguised as a sweet little Christmas gift from a "friend" and accountability partner!

(P: You know I'm kidding, right? You are the BEST! And when I get to goal weight, you ARE SO going to cook me a glazed ham for the torture you have put me through! :)