Look beneath the sunny smile
And stay awhile.
What do you see?
The real me.
Dig under my nails and skin
To find the soul within.
What do you see?
Lonely me.
Reach for the hidden being
Well beyond seeing.
What do you see?
Tearful me.
Wipe away the measured words
That belie fluttering birds.
What do you see?
Worried me.
Remove the tightly wound bars
To give my wondrous stars
So I can be
Truly free.
Spring the trap that binds.
Unloose the tie that winds.
What do you see?
Ecstatic me.
Music calls me
To fly with angels
In an azure sky
With gossamer wings
And crowns of golden filigree
Cymbals, harps, and lutes
Create magical tunes
Giving glory to God
And all His mighty works
Music of the soul
Heavenly prayers
Voices lift in harmony
Filling God’s ears with
Sound rejoicing
Blending, splitting, lifting
Toward heaven in
Wondrous rapture
Joining in mysterious
Psalms choruses praise
God day and night
Filling my soul
With delight
Praise God all ye peoples
Of the earth
Join in perfect harmony
Sing with me today
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Every day I pack my bag with
Swimsuit and fresh beach towel
And drive to the gym
Optimistic that a few pounds will be shed
Just enough to make a slight difference
I drive past workers stringing new telephone lines
Bicyclists, young and old, wavering in and out
Of the narrow confines of their allotted space
I bypass trucks that stop at train tracks
As I listen to my favorite country music stars
Wondering how crowded the pool will be
And picture my fat self walking
Nonchalantly to the pool’s edge
Sitting on the top step as I put on my fins
Pretending that my suit isn’t stretched too
Tightly over my abdomen
And then I step into the water and begin to swim
Feel the current that my hands create
My breathing rhythmic and the motion calming
Lap after lap I glide
Outlasting younger, stronger, faster swimmers
When I’m finished, I smile
Proud of what I have accomplished
And in those peaceful minutes
I forget about my size
And what others see when they gape
For I know, that in that moment of time,
That they don’t know the real me
And never will
My friends know that I have always struggled with my weight. It defines me as a fat person. Many people see it as a symbol of slovenliness, laziness, and carelessness. Fat people are thought to be so stupid that they don’t understand the connection between what they ingest and how it manifests in the body.
Although weight isn’t supposed to be a factor when applying for a job, it is. I have sat on interview panels looking for teachers to fill particular positions. Despite being the most articulate, the most qualified in terms of experience and having the most confidence of all those interviewed, often they won’t get hired. Why? Because of a perception that weight will interfere with job performance.
What feels like a gazillion years ago I took a weight management class that my health care provider offered. I learned a lot about nutrition, self-talk and tricks to use to distract myself from eating. I did lose weight during the four-week class so I took it again. And again. As long as I was attending, I lost. It wasn’t huge amounts, but it made a difference. I felt in control.
A long dry spell without outside reinforcement passed before I broke down and joined Weight Watchers, now known as WW. I had stayed away because I feared being weighed in public. It’s one thing for me to look at myself in the mirror and be appalled: it’s another for a stranger to see the numbers. I’m not sure what I expected would happen, but in my mind, I imagined people gathered around the scale watching as each person was weighed. Everyone would see. Everyone would know.
That’s not the way it happens. From the first meeting I was hooked. I have been attending meetings for years. I would lose a little, and then put some back on. Lose a little, gain more. Up and down, week after week.
When my knees needed replacing I took it more seriously and lost more. Due to inactivity, it returned.
It seemed that I lacked discipline and focus. I wanted to lose because it would change my life in powerful ways. A skinnier me would be a respected colleague at work. When I spoke, peers would listen to the words, not gawk at my fat.
I would bring home the proper foods and stay on track. Except for the cookie that would turn into four and the M & Ms that fell into my palm in a cluster. There would be cake and pie at parties that I had to eat. Hamburgers and candy bars that I needed at the end of every shopping trip. Over and over I overindulged in things that I knew put on fat.
Thanks to WW I began to understand that I was not alone: millions of people are just like me. It’s like being in a club of like-minded individuals. Meetings brought us together to share our stories. We listened, knowing that the words spoken represented us.
Every week I was welcomed for who I was, not for who they thought I should be. Such acceptance from strangers was new to me. Sometimes I was the fattest person in the room, but most of the time I wasn’t. Sometimes when I was frustrated I was silent and moody, but then someone would share an insight that opened my eyes.
Even so, my pattern of deprivation followed by indulgence continued. I’d lose a fair amount of weight, buy new clothes, then something would happen and the weight would return. I saw it as a natural process: something that occurred because of an injury or illness. That image allowed me to put the blame somewhere other than in my mind, in the things that went into my mouth.
Two years ago I needed an operation that was important enough to be done quickly. However the surgeon wouldn’t operate until I had lost at least thirty pounds. Do you know how embarrassing that is? The youngish, virile man looking at me as a slab of fat, like a roast to be trimmed. If I hadn’t been in tremendous pain, like other times when doctors told me I was overweight, I would have walked away and my pattern would have continued.
Instead I accepted his words for truth. For the first time I realized that I could no longer close my eyes and pretend that even though my clothes were huge, that it wasn’t all that bad. That was my first reality check.
I cried each time I wanted something unhealthy to eat. I walked past the package of cookies, the canister filled with candy with a sense of gloom. I couldn’t eat those things. I shouldn’t eat those things. I wouldn’t eat those things.
The pounds slowly disappeared because I embraced WW’s philosophy for the first time. I tracked what I ate. I stayed within my points for the day. I had been exercising for years, but I took things up a notch. Because I wanted that surgery, I took responsibility for myself being overweight and I lost the required amount of weight.
When I looked in the mirror in an honest fashion, I was proud of myself because of what I had accomplished. I still had more to lose in order to reach my goal weight.
Before I ignored the distance between where I was and where I should be, telling myself that I would never, ever get there. Now I told myself that I was on the way. All I had to do was keep following WW, keep attending reinforcing meetings, keep walking by temptations.
When I reached goal weight I was shocked and pleased. I also understood that because unhealthy food calls my name, that it would incredibly easy for me to put all those pounds back on. It might have taken me years, if we go back to when I took the classes, to lose eighty pounds, but if I fell back, those pounds would race back.
Two weeks ago my WW leader shared the message for the week. When tempted, we should pause and then do a reality check.
Imagine standing before a package of oatmeal cookies, your favorite. You pick up the package salivating over the tender raisins, the oat texture. Then you pause with the package frozen in place. Conduct a reality check. Ask yourself if you’re truly hungry or if you’re just looking for something to put in your mouth. If you’re hungry, ask yourself if there’s a better choice you could make. If not hungry, then question why you need food.
Recently I put this method to a test. I was in a grocery store and saw a package of prettily decorated miniature chocolate cakes. It called my name. I picked up the package and it was heading for my cart when it dawned on me that I should pause. I held the package, looking at the cakes. How many would I eat, I asked myself. I really only wanted one. I wanted to taste it, to see if it was as good as it looked. But then there would be eleven left. Who would eat them?
Anyone passing by probably wondered what I was doing. Imagine how peculiar I looked, standing there with a package of cakes hovering over my cart. Pretty comical, right?
The next step is the reality check. If I bought them, despite only wanting one, I would eat more. I would have at least one a day until they were gone even if they didn’t taste as wonderful as I hoped.
Did I really need them? Was it important for me to buy them? If I didn’t would I have other things to eat?
The answer to all questions was a resounding no. The package returned to the display and I walked away, telling myself if, after getting the healthy choices on my list, I still yearned for them, I could go back.
Guess what? The reality check really worked. Those cakes never entered my cart.
I have used this method several times a day since then. Every time I pass through the kitchen with the intent of grabbing something, I pause. Do the reality check. Reach for fruit or walk away.
Reality check keeps me focused on my health, my well-being, my desire to present myself in a positive image. I never again want to be the obese person that I was before. I could lose more weight, but I am pleased with who I have become. I am determined to utilize the reality check method whenever temptation arises.
Imagine if everyone utilized this method! There would be no fights, no drive-by shootings, no theft, no injuries to self or others. No hurting words would be said. No haughty smirks or cutting glances. No hurtful posts on social media. No angry emails or phone calls. The world would be a safer and happier place.
I am grateful to WW for sharing this with us. Reality check is a powerful tool that I intend to rely on as long as I have the cognitive power to do so.
How about you?
Majestic mountains with snow-capped peaks
touch a baby-blue sky dotted with puffy clouds
like fingers brushing God’s eyes, cleansing air.
White dusted pines march up and down slopes
erect as soldiers, as still as statues bearing arms,
free from smoky campfires and slow-moving cars.
Half-frozen lakes rimmed with white ice,
idle now from summer’s pleasures,
enjoying peaceful rest and rehabilitation.
Winter-tolerant birds call quietly, snug in nests
hidden in tall trees, protected from wind’s chill blasts.
Fragile-boned winter-thinned deer huddle under low branches
ever watchful, ever dreaming of green fields and sunny days.
Bright white hares frozen in place, noses twitching, on alert.
Silence broken by crunching footsteps marking time,
clapping gloved hands, and occasional muffled words.
Breath steams, creating human-bred clouds that rise
to greet the day, the mountains, life-giving air,
giving substance to dreams that otherwise vaporize
into nothingness, dispelling fears and chasing away
omens of ills that might come to the unwary.
Blessed mountains with snow-capped peaks
reminders of the glory, the majesty, the grandeur
of the world entrusted to our hands to keep, to protect,
to save for generations and generations to come.
Gray hair that once was brown
Straight that used to curl
Not combing or brushing
Not washing or rinsing
Just tangling on her head.
Body so frail that once ran
Legs that can’t even stand
Not moving or twitching
Not lifting or stretching
Just resting in the bed.
Eyes that once so clearly saw
Every mistake, every flaw
Not blinking or closing
Not focusing or watching
Just staring straight ahead.
Mind that once measured
Each phrase, each meaning
Not thinking or dreaming
Not pitting or planning
Just forgetting all said.
Voice that once spoke
Of family and friends
Not whispering or shouting
Not bragging or lying
Just lost in a void.
Gone now.
Laid at rest.
Still.
Silent.
Peace at last.
Driving home, the freeway jammed
Even the diamond land crammed.
Cruise ships seeking safe repose,
Passengers fighting off woes.
Fingers white around the wheel.
Hearts forgetting how to feel.
Tunnels permanently blocked.
Wooden doors steadfastly locked.
Hopeless, dreamless,zombie-like
Pounding in the golden spike
Absolute sincerity
Wallows in simplicity.
Disaster looms up ahead.
Patterns melt the tangled thread.
Revolutionaries sway
Blinkers indicate the way.
Arterial trends emerge.
Widens an expansive urge.
Switching lanes has come too fast.
Now forgetting all the past.
Exit sign soon arises
Throwing off all disguises.
Speeding in direction shown
Indicates a welcome home.
Midnight blues sing through my veins
Filling my heart with discordant strains
Untamed beats chase away smooth rhythms
Binding my emotions in velvet ribbons.
Saxophones and trumpets blaze into the night
Screaming in agony: writhing with fright
Discordant voices lost in the devilish din
Succumbing to the mesmerizing power of sin
Dreams of orchestras lost in unholy pleas
Drag me down, down, onto wobbly knees
Rending sounds screech, moan, and tear
apart my soul; laying my heart bare
In supplicant voice, a sweet melody
Springs forth; a personal symphony
Gentle flutes settle the lopsided score
As piccolos delve straight to the core
Softly discontent relaxes its grip
Into the night, those pesky blues slip.
Before I met my husband no one would have ever considered me to be an optimist. My heart was stuck in my miserable past, and although I tried to let it go, memories drug me down.
My dreams were minuscule and short term. Turn in that paper, make my bed, don’t say anything that would get me in trouble. Every morning began with a litany of pitfalls to avoid. You would have thought I’d learn, but no, I’d fall into the same trap over and over.
Before my family moved to California, my brother and I discovered that the community colleges were affordable That was when my dreams of getting a degree began to formulate. I had no idea what I would study. I saw it as a way out. An opportunity to break free of the bonds that tied me to people seldom showed love or compassion.
Every class I took for the next three years was chosen to get me into college. I had no idea how I’d pay tuition as I had never worked. When an opportunity arose to make some money, I seized it with both hands. Night after night I sat at the scorekeeper’s table at the local bowling alley and kept score for league competitions. The bowlers paid well, but when they saw that I was studying while keeping score, they paid me more. Then when asked if I was intending to go to college, they gave me more. Over the course f two years I save up enough for a year’s tuition and books.
I needed my counselor’s recommendation to be sent to colleges. She told me that I lacked the skills to succeed. That I would fail out after one semester. Considering that I already had low self-esteem, she sent me deeper into the basement. I cried for days.
One morning I woke up with a new feeling: determinination. I would enroll in college. I would take courses that would count when I transferred to a four-year-university. I would prove that she was wrong.
It was hard to maintain that optimism as my family situation had not changed and I still had no friends. I was a geeky kid, one of those weirdos who don’t fit in any group. I wasn’t pretty as my father had repeated told me. I was smart, but not as smart as my brother as my mother reminded me. I wore hand-me-down clothes, shoes that were too big and had a hairdo that was ancient.
The State of California gifted me a full-ride scholarship to any in-state college. I was happy, but not buoyant. In my mind the fear still lurked that the counselor was right, that I didn’t have the academic skills to succeed.
My parents wouldn’t let me go away to college the first year, so I enrolled at a community college. I had never been a good student of English. I loved to read, but it seemed that I was unable to perceive what others did from the literature. In fact, it was as if I had read completely different books. I could write papers that got good grades, but didn’t understand how to analyze written word.
After getting two miserable grades in my first college English class, I began to believe that the counselor was right. I dropped the class. However, my Spanish professor told me I was too advanced for any classes at the college! My spirits lifted a tiny bit.
I got a job at a clothing store. Big mistake. What shopper would listen to a lower-class employee clearing wearing used clothes? No one. I was fired after a week. Spirits fell.
Then the local KFC hired me even though I knew nothing about cooking. Working the counter was intimidating. I was so shy that speaking to strangers was challenging. I felt inferior every day. The customers dressed better, spoke clearer and knew what they wanted. I lacked all of those skills.
As time passed, however, I learned the job. I was excellent at making coleslaw and excellent at strawberry pie. I kept things clean and was polite and respectful. My confidence took a step up the ladder.
I transferred to USC in the fall. My parents moved to southern California in order to keep me close. Another KFC hired me at the first interview. Another step up the ladder.
When I arrived in my dorm I was filled with excitement as this was my first time away from home. When my roommate arrived with her personal maid and boxes and boxes of brand-new clothing, I realized I was out of my element. I was the white-trash girl trying to blend in with the ultra-rich. Down to the bottom I slid.
My life was one big board game: up two steps, down ten, slide two to the right, down, then up. Meanwhile emotionally I was frozen in time. I passed all my classes, earning excellent grades, but never totally lost the fear of failure. I was a loner. Sitting by myself in the cafeteria. Spending night after night alone.
Imagine watching groups of laughing friends on campus wishing you could join in. Picture yourself in class when discussion or group projects are assigned and no one wants you in the group. That was me.
After college I was forced to move back home as I had nowhere else to go. I was back to being inferior to my siblings. Back to being ridiculed by my parents. Back to being treated like an imbecile. What good feelings I had had disappeared.
It took months to find a job, but when I did, the first thing I did was buy a car. I needed my dad’s signature. The car I wanted he wouldn’t let me have because I was stupid. Instead I ended up with a Ford Pinto, an awkwardly shaped car. But I got to choose the color so I went with the one my dad hated: bumble bee colors. Hah. An act of rebellion.
Over time things opened up for me, but I still lacked confidence. One positive was that I made a friend at work. Another was that I did have a few dates.
I switched to a government job making enough money to get my own apartment. For the first time I was in charge of my life. I ate what I wanted. Drove around wherever I wanted. Watched what I wanted on television. Listened to my music and sang as loudly as I wanted without fear of being teased. Life was good and so my self-esteem soared.
I became a positive person because I was over being negative. It took work to make the change. I had to constantly remind myself, reset goals, reward myself when I felt good.
It was during this period that I me the man who would become my husband. He exuded confidence. Not in an over-the-top way, but in an I-know-who-I-am way. The attraction was immediate. I wanted to be like him and thought if I hung out with him at work his buoyant spirit would rub off.
It took time, but he taught me to love myself, reminded me that I was lovable, and kept me away from negative, overpowering people. He beloved in himself and then believed in me. Through him I learned that I could do many things.
Recently I was reading about a different kind of therapy for depressed individuals. Instead of dwelling on the past, which cannot be changed, look to the future and try to see yourself there. What would you want to be doing? Thinking? Feeling?
Patients were encouraged to write about future selves. Guess what happened? Over time attitudes changed and they began to see brighter days ahead.
If only I could have worked with someone like this. It would not have taken twenty-five years for me to be able to see the good in myself.
I try not to see the negative in people and want to believe that there is good in everyone. However, when I do encounter someone who drags me down, instead of blaming myself, I move away. Rapidly.
This is what positivity gives you: an ability to walk in your own shoes away from negative people. Let them be miserable in their own world: keep them out of mine.
Life is easier, too, when those you have chosen to be with echo the feelings you want to cherish in yourself. Life is too precious not to be positive. I will hold that thought dear to my heart.
Visions of a long ago past
keep clouding my brain,
carrying me back in time
when herds of shaggy buffalo
roamed the verdant plains,
grazing peacefully on the lush
grasses and thinking of little
except taking the next bite.
Nomadic tribes followed the
mighty herds, giving praise
to their gods for the wonders
of sustenance freely given.
Every sinew, every shard of bone,
every inch of hide valuable gems
for improving the quality of life.
Brave warriors, dressed in hides
and lathered in specially-made
potions encircle the unmindful
beasts, seeking those best suited
for the entire tribe’s needs.
Never taking more than would be
consumed, never wasting gifts
for the sake of one small part,
and always thanking the beast’s soul,
for dying so that others may live.
Traditions broken by the arrival
of ungrateful hunters who willingly
destroyed the herds to line their small
pockets with precious gold coins,
in their wake leaving only the
footprints of times long past.
Words and Thoughts 