As I look back over this past year, my family has had its series of ups and downs. Some, I have talked about, some, amazingly, I have kept quiet for they are not my stories to tell.  :)

 

I know I have focused a lot on my grandpa and this post will not be any different for he is coming to the end of his journey through life.  Yes, I may have been saying this for the past 9 months, but I know that was my way of preparing myself.  Grandpa is now talking about it with quite certainty.  I’m not going to focus on this, rather, on his life and how truly wonderful this man is.  I realize this may not be the place to do so, but I was going to write it all down anyway, so I thought I would share. 

 

Grandpa was born on January 27, 1916 during “one of the worse snow storms of West Virginia’s history”.  He is the third oldest of 12 surviving children.  I believe my great-grandmother had 16 children total.  Grandpa’s life was about the family farm in West Virginia.  The family never wanted for anything, however, they were not a wealthy family.  During the 1930’s, the Great Depression threatened the livelihood of everyone in this nation.  At the age of 18, grandpa and his younger brother Ernest left the farm to find work in Cleveland.  Mind you, today, it takes 4 hours to drive to the farm from Cleveland.  They, like so many others, walked.  They were arrested for loitering, begged for food, hitched rides.  At the time, Ernest and grandpa were doing as much as everyone to help the family save their home.  They both managed to find work, kept only enough of their earnings to pay room and board and sent the rest home.  Essentially, Ernest and grandpa saved the family farm.  When everyone was stable, Ernest headed home, but grandpa stayed in Cleveland.  For reasons I never could quite understand, his parents were angered at this and made him an outcast of the family.

 

During this time, grandpa married a girl he left behind.  For the first year of their marriage, my grandparents had to live in separate boarding houses because one was for females and the other was for males.  The married couples houses were all booked up.  Eventually they got their own place, and granny became pregnant. Warren was born and at the age of two, contracted pneumonia and passed away.  Granny became pregnant again, this time giving birth to my mother.  At this time, both of my great-parents passed, leaving the house and land to each of the kids, except my grandpa. 

 

The 40’s, 50’s and the early 60’s were good times for my grandparents.  Their daughter got married to a wonderful man and they started giving my grandparents grandchildren.  They would visit the WVA, and although they were welcomed and loved, grandpa didn’t spend more than 2 days a year down there, and that was to place flowers on graves. 

 

At the end of the 60’s, granny was diagnosed with diabetes, totally treatable, that is, if she decided to listen to the doctors.  Granny passed away due to complications of diabetes at the young age of 58, just two years after I was born.  The following year, grandpa had a triple bypass, unheard of in 1977 and moved in with us.  He became a babysitter for my brother and me, as my parents both worked.  My older sisters didn’t really need him and didn’t necessarily want to have anything to do with him.  You know how it is when you are 11 or 12, you don’t want to deal with any adults, let alone the OLD ones.  J 

 

Fast forward through the years of my brother and I trying to survive off of white gravy that was thicker than paste, and fried ground meat that resembled rabbit pellets.  Thank God for Pizza Hut coming into play!  Grandpa always made time to play board or card games with us.  That is, if the Indians or the Mountaineers weren’t playing.  He would also play in the backyard with us.  He always carried about 1000 keys and 10 pounds of change in his pockets.  You could hear him chasing after you a mile away.  No, things weren’t always rosy between us, but never horrible.  I just became a teenager.  We would argue and then sit down to watch Jeopardy together. 

 

In 2000, my mother passed away.  At 84, grandpa was packing his bags to move out on his own.  He figured my dad didn’t have to keep him in the home.  That was never an issue.  He stayed on.  Even after dad remarried, grandpa and me were planning on moving in with my brother.  Grandpa cleaned, cooked and raised a garden up until his stroke this January at the age of 91.  He took care of me when I had my surgery. 

 

Believe me, this man isn’t a saint.  But who is?  Until his stroke, grandpa was never demonstrative with his love.  No hugging, kissing or saying “I love you”.  Now, he hugs and kisses.  Grandpa’s speech is 70% incoherent, but you can see his mind working.  His eyes still twinkle when he’s up to no good and enjoys a good laugh.    

 

The other day, my grandpa and I were waiting outside his facility for my brother to show up.  We were going on our weekly dinner out.  I was telling him about some hard times my bro and I have come upon.  Nothing serious, just those silly little things which continuously weigh on your mind.  Anyway, grandpa crossed his legs and clasped his hands to together and let out a big breathe.  This is a signal he is working up to saying something big.

 

Grandpa, the man who was lived through the depression, wars, ostracized by his parents, buried brothers and sisters, a wife, two children, who’s mind is a prisoner in a shell of body, looked directly into my eyes, stuck his arms out wide and said, “Beck, I lost it all”, pulls his arms, so his one hand is over his heart and placed the other on my knee and finishes, “yet, I have everything.”

 

Pretty much sums it up, yes?

I really don't have much to talk about today...  Such a shocker from me!!!  I have noticed many of you are able to post pictures in the blog.  How???  I'm so jealous... 

Anyway, I wanted to tell everyone to have a great weekend!!!

Wouldn’t you just love it if someone actually said, “Gee, you were such a fat slob before and now you look absolutely wonderful!  Doesn’t it feel great to be part of accepted, normal society?”  I think I would have to hug that person for being brutally honest and say what many (not all) think.  Anyway, in recent months, the question or statement I keep hearing is, “Don’t you just feel better?” or “You must feel better.”  My answer is typically “sure” or “mentally, I feel GREAT!!!”.  I then receive a forceful statement, “well you just have to physically feel better.”  Why do I have to feel physically better? I find this mildly humorous because when I don’t give the answer they are looking for because they then try to force the ‘correct’ answer on me and will not let up until I concede that physically, I’m in the best shape of my life .  By then, I’m irritated.  These people don’t want to know my mental health is actually in the best shape of its life.  That is, until I encounter people who are focused on the physical aspect.  These are the same people who also will not let up on my workout habits.  Honestly, it’s none of their business if I work out 2 times a week, 8 times a week or never. 

 

Physically, sure, I’m better, however, in defense, while I knew I was having difficulties with movement, I wasn’t exactly aware that I felt bad.  For example, just a month a go, I threw my back out.  This is an issue I have had since I was in my early 20s.  I never had back problems with all my weight, I lose the weight and BLAMMO, I’m flat on my back for a week! 

 

With the weight, I was more aware of the fact my heart raced at physical exertion, I couldn’t fit into movie seats or outdoor furniture and things of that nature.  Normally, I am not a vain person, however, with the way this country is aware of body image, I was appalled with myself.  Unfortunately, my vanity was the first reason I looked into the surgery.  Eventually, being a somewhat intelligent person, I also knew if I wanted to live past 40-45, I had to do something.  So, after my yearly physical and test results came in, vanity became 6^th on the list of why I should have surgery and health took the first 5 slots. 

  

So, July 10^th marked my one year anniversary for my surgery.  I celebrated by eating buffalo ribs with a side of slaw.  J  HEY!!!  I was on vacation and I actually lost weight that week.  Vacation was my first trial of eating, physical exertion and such since my surgery.  I didn’t purposefully pick my year anniversary.  My brother and I drove all the way out to

South Dakota.  As a sidenote, I do love those Midwestern/Cowboy/Harley riding men.  Okay, all men.  LOL  I also have to admit, it was extremely nice to have appreciative glances given by the opposite sex.  It was also nice to be able to sit in outdoor cafes, movie theaters or on public transportation and not have the uncomfortable, “is she going to sit next to me?” or “will she even fit by?” glances given.  I loved being able not to second guess if I could go on a walking tour.  I didn’t change my eating times to avoid the big crowds of people.  I looked to have my picture taken.  It was exhilarating and a mind opening experience.

 

So, even though I didn’t lose weight this week, I focus on the fact I have lost 130 pounds in the past year.  130 pounds!  Mind blowing!!!  Yes, I do concede physically, I feel better, but it cannot replace the mental war, which I conquered.  And, for the first time in my life, I have been called ‘tiny’ 6 times in a week.  For that, there are no words.

 

 To all of my friends out there who are celebrating years of success, starting their success or just plain scared, remember, what you lose in weight, you gain in health and mental well being.  No one is perfect (LEAST OF ALL ME), so what I have to remember and you should to, everyone means no harm with questions or statements.  They are just curious.  J

 

Peace out!

well now, it's not by alot, (1/2 pound), but I broke the 200 barrier!!!  that is a number i do not ever plan on seeing on my scale again.  LOL

prepping for my trip to south dakota with my brother.  a little nervous for this is the first time i have taken a vacation since surgery.  i have been away for a day or two and think i do okay, but i don't eat out, just salads from the hotel room service.  this is going to be a challenge due to the diner fare.  send me thoughts of avoiding the fried foods!!!  lolol...  at least those foods still make me sick, so i will not be turning towards them.  i just have to remember the drinking rule.

so i did have a couple of beers the other day.  what was scary was my ability to hold my liquor.  it definitely was not the thimbleful rule for me.  that proved to me that i will not be drinking alcohol unless for toasting purposes.  who needs the empty calories?  

anyway, i hope everyone is having a great summer!  what are the vacation plans?

Help, help, help...  For the past couple of weeks, well at least that's how long I noticed it, my ticker has not been showing my bottom number.  This is frustrating for me because I am a brat and like to log on and and see my numbers going down.    I am okay with the fact my BMI is still showing and although it has gone down, I still don't believe in the POWER OF BMI.

What is the POWER OF BMI, you ask?  Well, let me try to explain.  It's this magical number which blinds many in the health profession as the number to determine if we are obese, morbidly obese, etc.  In fact, my own company has started a program to try to get not only our company, but sister companies, to lower the BMIs.  Ah yes, and let us not forget there is a major company who has already banned any nicotine use with their employees and is now working on how to not hire anyone considered obese (according to BMI). 

Here's my issue with Body Mass Indexes...  And I apologize to all those who believe in it.

This number is just a ratio between weight and height, not body fat content, muscle tone, etc.  This in turn means that all bodybuilders, with their 1% body fat (exaggeration) are considered morbidly obese.  Now, I realize carrying around extra weight is wearing on a frame.  However, this is not how BMI is described.  Also, many athletes, who actually look weight/height proportionate, have an Obese BMI rating.  Why is this?  Because of the old adage of muscle weighs more than fat.  

Now "they" (again with this "THEY" group ) are trying to target our kids.  While I'm well aware of the obesity problem the U.S. is facing, we need to step back a little.  My crazy sis (the one who compared getting boob implants to bypass), who has never been over a size 2 due to starving herself, has my nephew believing that he is fat.  Mind you, the kid is 14, 5'11" and 175 pounds.  Did I mention he's an allstate champion in swimming?  The kid is solid.  Why does she say he's fat?  Well, God forbid he likes to eat and by genetics, he does have an overhang of a pooch of about 1/2"... For someone who has struggled her entire life with weight, this makes me sick.  Now she is on her boyfriend's daughters.  When the fat comments started with them, their ages were 7 and 10...  The youngest was your typical girl with the little belly, but thin everywhere else.  The oldest, now 14, is close to being anorexic looking.  Then again, I don't get along with the oldest because she called me a fat beoch when I asked her to give up a chair for my gpa.  Whatever. 

Anyhoo, I digress.  Do I think there is a problem with obesity in the U.S?  Yes.  Do I think measuring everyone's BMI is one of the answers?  No.  Do I think less work, less eating out, less stress, would help?  Yes.  Do I think for our kids the answer should be instead of plunking them down in front of a TV to watch or play video games, would be for us to go outside with them for a bit before or after supper?  Yes.  

Ok, so this became a rant about many issues.  I am not a weight loss guru.  I do not think I know everything.  It's just sometimes, I would like people to open their eyes and see the entire picture instead of seeing what's in front of them...

Seriously, I just wanted to do a post asking for help on my weight ticker.  Anyone?