“Charmi, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m not going to beat around the bush. We’re letting you go.”
It wasn’t until later that I could actually recall what the HR representative had said during the rest of our meeting. My mind took in what my heart couldn’t hear at the time. I walked back to my desk, retrieved my purse and left the building. The first day of the “best” of my life had taken a sudden turn in an unexpected direction.
I don’t remember driving home. I don’t remember changing out of my business suit. I don’t remember a thing between leaving the office and standing in front of my TV. Much to my surprise, I found myself standing there in the living room watching the start of my new exercise video. I glanced over my shoulder toward the kitchen, and in that moment I made the decision of my life. I turned back toward the television and began moving to the music. The sweat pouring from my face mixed with angry and confused tears. When the video was over, I sat on the floor and cried some more.
With that one simple decision to exercise rather than get something to eat, I took full control of my future. As the days wore on, I held fast to my decision to honor myself by honoring my new lifestyle. Maybe I did it out of desperation—it was the only thing that I felt I had any control over in my life. Maybe I did it out of fear—what if I couldn’t get a new job because of my weight? In the end, all that mattered was that I did do it. More importantly, that I chose to do it.
There were several ups and downs—both emotionally and on the scale—over the next sixteen months. But in less than a year and a half, I had moved back to my hometown, found a fabulous job and had lost 127 pounds.
That was several years ago. Since then I’ve changed jobs a few times, moved twice and have gained weight. A lot of weight. I woke up one morning not too long ago and found myself back where I had been, both physically and mentally, on that Tuesday many years before. I pulled out my exercise videos and got them ready for when I got home from work
After a very healthy breakfast, I headed for work with a renewed attitude. Shortly after lunch, HR made an announcement.
“We will be experiencing staff reductions over the next few weeks.”
I couldn’t help it, I had to laugh. That announcement— and its timing—let me know that good things lay ahead.
Charmi Schroeder
“Is there any way you can lose weight without having any less to hug?”
Reprinted with permission of Jonny Hawkins.
5
THE
NEW YOU
If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours.
Henry David Thoreau
Fabulously Fighting Fit at Fifty (and Beyond)
I don’t know what the big deal is about old age. Old people who shine from the inside look ten to twenty years younger.
Dolly Parton
I was approaching one of life’s major milestones—my fiftieth birthday. I was also fast approaching another peak in my roller coaster–style weight management plan that had been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. So what better occasion than to make some serious lifestyle changes and lose some weight? I had spent years setting goals for myself, reaching them, feeling great and then reverting back to all the bad habits that got me onto the slippery slope of weight gain in the first place. I tried all the various diets that came and went as medical and marketing opinions changed. I counted fat, fiber, calories and ounces and always lost weight. What I never managed to achieve was a state of maintenance, until now.
One day my friend Carol said, “How about doing a personal training program together?” I thought, You must be joking, but I said, “Okay, I’ll give it a go,” trying to sound positive. This was the most important step I have ever taken into the weight-loss arena. Carol and I undertook a twelve-week program, which consisted of three days a week weight training and three days a week cardio workouts with Mark, a qualified trainer at Fighting Fit Academy. I had been used to exercising and was reasonably fit. Over the years I had donned Lycra and embraced all the latest exercise trends. However, I had a feeling this would be a serious challenge, and I was not wrong.
Arriving at the gym on the first day, I was excited, but scared. We were weighed and measured; then Mark explained the program to us. I could not believe the weight I was expected to lift, press and carry, but “can’t” was a word Mark did not permit in his gym, so finding the power and strength needed, I did what I was told.
After the first day I was tired but elated, and I slept well after a long soak in a bath filled with Epsom salts and aromatherapy oils. The next day I could not move, walking was nearly impossible and areas of my body hurt where I did not know I had muscles. The next two weeks were more of the same, and I was constantly sore and tired. However, I gradually became stronger, found the training easier and recovered faster. I also began to feel invigorated instead of tired.
In parallel with the training program, I was introduced to a different way of eating—not a diet, but a sensible eating plan designed to provide the energy and nutrition needed for strenuous exercise and also designed for weight loss. I no longer ate a big meal at night but instead ate small meals, six times a day, including some protein with each meal, and greatly reduced my overall carbohydrate intake. I was rarely hungry, and what is more, I felt great. I had one day a week when I could eat what I wanted, but just knowing that I could do so provided an escape hatch that I actually did not take advantage of very often.
I had expected overnight changes, but this program was not about a quick fix. It took six weeks before anything happened, and then my shape began to change. At the end of the program, I was astounded at the results. I had lost a little more than fifteen pounds, which may not seem like a lot of weight, but by converting fat to toned muscle, I had lost inches in all the important places, rediscovered my waist and found that my small frame was quite shapely after all. I was ecstatic and basked in this feeling, soaking up compliments and enjoying the gasps of amazement at my “before and after” photos.
I had reached a pinnacle of achievement, but the real challenge was just beginning. This was not about reaching a goal and then stopping but was the start of a new lifestyle. If I was to find my Holy Grail of maintenance, I needed to make a major mind shift. I always remember one of my diet program leaders saying that the most important area for weight loss is the top three inches of our head, and that the rest follows.
I have had to acknowledge that life is not fair. I will never be able to eat what I want without getting fat, and I will always need lots of physical activity, so for the first time I accepted this as my new philosophy and turned away from the path of striving toward a goal paved with sacrifice and denial. Instead I have extended the timeframe of this goal into a lifelong journey to be cherished and enjoyed.
Now I exercise daily and eat sensibly and moderately most of the time, but I do give myself permission to indulge in the occasional treat. In this way my weight has stabilized. I never allow it to fluctuate by more than five pounds at a time.
I use my own body signals to recognize when my intake (food) and output (exercise) is out of balance and correct the imbalance immediately. I also know that the feel-good factor from a good workout is far more satisfying and longer lasting that the ephemeral joy of tantalizing the taste buds. I took up bike riding, yoga and tai chi, all of which has helped me feel in control of my body, disperse stress before it builds up and divert extreme emotions so that I can handle them better.
Two years later, I have maintained my weight and exercise regime, and I have found that I can easily cope with the changes that are a natural, but difficult, part of life for a woman in her fifties. I maintain my sanity by continuing the path I started with lots of invigorating and varied exercise. I took that first step and began to experience a feeling of well-being. Before long, my motivation led me to a new and exciting place. Now nothing can ho
ld me back.
Janet Marianne Jackson
A Second Chance at Life
If you can’t be a good example, then you’ll just have to be a horrible warning.
Catherine Aird
Set a goal, follow the course and you achieve your dream. Sounds easy, doesn’t it?
Over a number of years I’ve gained five pounds here and another five pounds there; all of it seemed to settle between my waist and my knees. Part of getting older, I told myself. I could lose this weight, I thought. I did exactly that . . . many times. Whenever I quit dieting, back it came, along with a few more pounds. I finally hit on the perfect rationalization. The only way to keep this weight off is to diet for the rest of my life, and I’m not willing to do that— perfect reasoning for someone who loves to eat and enjoys cooking and baking. My goal was too tough to achieve. I dismissed it with a shrug and continued eating the good things I craved.
Then my husband, Ken, threw a curveball at me. The man who had low blood pressure, low cholesterol, was Mr. Easygoing and only a few pounds overweight had a heart attack on the golf course one clear February day. Golf buddies rushed him to the clubhouse and called an ambulance. Off he went to the emergency room where he was stabilized and transferred to a tiny little helicopter for a fifty-mile flight to our state capital and a larger hospital. By the time I arrived at the hospital, the cardiologist had performed a heart catheterization followed by angioplasty. He implanted a stent into the main artery of Ken’s heart when this critical artery showed a 99-percent blockage. Ken came ever so close to not making it. Needless to say, many prayers of thanksgiving were offered by me, by our family and our friends, and by the patient, too. After a short hospital stay, the cardiologist dismissed him with instructions for a brand-new lifestyle.
Diet and exercise became the key words in our vocabulary from that day on. Our goal? Simply that we both live a long and full life. To do that, we had to change our way of eating, our exercise habits and our attitudes. Easy enough to do, we thought, when living is the prize. I’d been given the diet instructions, which turned out to be pretty simple. Think low-fat. Think low-cholesterol. Most important of all . . . have small portions of all things, always!
I subscribed to magazines with light recipes, checked out low-fat cookingWeb sites and spent time revising old-favorite recipes. I filled our plates with far less food than ever before, remembering how the doctor had emphasized the importance of small portions. I baked only occasionally and used canola oil instead of butter when I made cookies or muffins. At restaurants, we ate half of what we ordered and brought the rest home. The whole new lifestyle was easier than I’d feared. I could ignore a grumble or two from Ken about how I was starving him.
And then, the first distraction arose. We hesitated, and we slipped back a little bit when we were invited out to dinner. There before us lay a table laden with forbidden foods and a hostess urging us to fill our plates and have seconds. I suddenly had a brief glimpse into what Adam and Eve must have felt in the garden. We ate more than we should have, and we felt miserable. Our stomachs were no longer accustomed to such rich food. At home, and back on track once again, we continued on the prescribed diet—fruit in place of cookies and cake, carrot and celery sticks instead of chips, four ounces of steak rather than eight. The longer we practiced the diet, the easier it became. The pounds we shed encouraged us to keep going.
Another distraction slowed us down. This time we were tripped up by a three-week vacation on a river cruiser. Meals were gourmet offerings, including lavish buffets, scrumptious desserts and delicious breads. No doubt about it. We ate far less than most of the other passengers, but we also ate far more than we had been doing at home. We continued to exercise daily, and when we arrived back home, we went right back on the program.
Yes, we slide occasionally, but only a little, and over four years later our new lifestyle has turned into a habit. Ken has lost forty pounds, and I shed twenty-eight.We’re both down to our college weight, and we feel great. Maybe a distraction will slow us now and then, but we won’t collapse in a heap and shed tears. No, we’ll keep taking care of ourselves: today, tomorrow and forever.
Nancy Julien Kopp
Oven-Steamed Asian-Style Fish
MAKES 4 SERVINGS EACH SERVING: 43 GRAMS PROTEIN,TRACE CARBOHYDRATE
4 six-ounce thick fish fillets (halibut, salmon, swordfish,
red snapper, cod or sea bass)
2 cups sliced brown or white mushrooms
2 tablespoons low-sodium tamari soy sauce
2 tablespoons dry sherry
1 tablespoon pure-pressed sesame oil
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
cup chopped fresh scallions
1 tablespoon chopped fresh mint
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
2 minced garlic gloves
2 teaspoons peeled and finely minced fresh ginger
cayenne pepper, to taste
1 lime cut into wedges, for garnish
4 fresh cilantro sprigs, for garnish
Rinse fish under cold water and pat dry with paper towels. Arrange fish fillets in a greased baking dish. Top with sliced mushrooms. In a small bowl, combine soy sauce, sherry, sesame oil, lime juice, scallions, mint, cilantro, garlic and ginger.
Season to taste with cayenne pepper. Pour over fish and marinate at least 30 minutes.
Preheat oven to 375°. Bake, covered with foil, until fish turns opaque and flakes easily with a fork, about 20 minutes. Garnish with fresh lime wedges and cilantro sprigs and serve immediately.
Reprinted from The Schwarzbein Principle Cookbook. ©1999 Diana Schwarzbein, M.D., Nancy Deville and Evelyn Jacob. Health Communications, Inc.
A Soul-Searching, Pound-Shedding Vacation
The person who removes a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.
Author Unknown
I was cruising 3,000 feet in the air, over the burnt sunset-hued Grand Canyon, tucked comfortably in a window seat (albeit economy) when it hit me—I was heading to Los Cabos, Mexico, for a once-in-a-lifetime splurge of a vacation, and I was not the tiniest bit excited. Instead of palm trees, lazy morning breakfasts and endless ocean images clouding my thoughts, I was thinking about one and only one thing—the way my out-of-shape, overweight body would look in a swimsuit that had been bought four months ago for what I wrongly assumed would be a leaner, healthier me.
As it turns out, the vacation planning that was supposed to spur my weight-loss regimen did just the opposite. I saved extra spending money by skipping my weekly yoga classes. I cut back on exercising to work overtime in preparation for a week off of work, and last-minute packing stress had led to massive overeating in the three days beforehand. The bottom line: my bikini was one size smaller than the normal me and I was likely one size larger.
It didn’t take long for my fiancé to realize that a tear had slid down my cheek. He looked at me in astonishment, obviously wondering what on earth could be wrong—we had been waiting and planning for this day for months.
He must have gathered the words “swimsuit,” “me” and “body” from my nondescript mumbles, because his response was a simple (but genuine), “I was wondering where all that ice cream went!” Then he continued with a more thoughtful approach.
“Well, let’s use this vacation to do something about it. No excuses,” his voice was helpful, but a stern undertone told me that my weight- and eating-related issues were wearing him thin (ironically enough).
I thought for a moment. Spend my vacation trying to get back on track? My vacation? This was supposed to be a break from the everyday monotony of diet, work and exercise. But wait, I suppose that I hadn’t kept up on that at home either.
I decided then and there that my new motto would be “no excuses.” If there was one thing that was simply inescapable, it was the importance of healthy living. Despite my weakness for sugary treats and carbohydrate-laden snacks, I knew that what I wanted most was a healthy body. I grabbed a pen and notepad and
got to work on the flight—not a minute more would be wasted. I jotted down my goals (both realistic and dream ones), the ways that I would achieve them, the sacrifices that I would make and the excuses that I would not.
Four hours and ten notepad-scribbled pages later, I had a plan. A good, solid plan. And then I did something that in all of my dieting obstacles I’d never done . . . I handed the notebook to my fiancé and asked him to help hold me accountable. The fact that I was allowing him into this issue that shook my insecurities to the core was a huge step—for myself and our relationship. Not only did he promise to give it his utmost attention, he appreciated the opportunity to contribute to my livelihood in such a way. We spent the rest of the plane ride brainstorming healthy eating and fitness ideas. By the time flight #0292 had landed, I felt I had a new lease on life. Los Cabos was welcoming a new, updated me.
Mornings were started with fresh, low-fat breakfasts, snacks were healthy and light. We ate early evening dinners, accompanied by an occasional glass of celebratory wine. Finding a local yoga class was as easy as asking the concierge, and we filled our afternoons with side trips that provided good workouts in disguise—kayaking, swimming, long walks and bike rentals.
By the trip’s end I had lost five pounds, but more importantly, I felt good. It was easy to slip into my swimsuit when I knew that I’d spent the day working for the good of my body.
My initial tears of frustration had triggered something inside of me, and I’d no longer wait for a vacation to change myself for the better. As a protection plan for our own well-being, we booked our hotel for another week on the exact same dates the following year. This time around there would be no excuses and no reason to spoil the excitement of our romantic, adventurous rendezvous. Because when it comes right down to it, a body needs healthy fuel, physical work and determination, whether you’re at home in suburban Chicago or on the emerald and turquoise waters of Los Cabos, happily baking in the sun—in a perfectly fitted bikini, of course.