Motivation

For the last couple of days, I've been eating a little more and not exercising because I've been sick. I try to eat according to appetite (i.e., listening to my body) within a range of 1200-1700 calories per day. And I try to exercise for 30 minutes a day, 6 days a week. I did stay within my calorie range, but didn't exercise, and with all the higher carb, saltier types of foods I was eating and the tons of water I continued to drink, I wondered if I might have a bit of a gain on the scale. But, ya know, just the other day I was saying how happy I am to be in the 220's and how seeing 227 on the scale was just fine with me. I've been in a mindset of being really okay with a bit of a plateau for a week or two if need be.

So this morning I got on the scale expecting another 227, but instead got 225! Wha??? I got on and off a couple of times but indeed I now weigh 225. I'll take it! A whoosh is always nice.

The last time I weighed 225 was on 4/8/09... eight months ago. And the last time I weighed 224? 12/15/08... almost a year ago. Wow. I really am thrilled!

I'm almost over my flu/cold/whatever it was, but still have a headache. It is really cold outside but I have some shopping to do and errands to run, and I plan to take a 10 or 15 minute walk in the sunshine (just until I am too cold to be comfortable). I'll also bike for 30 minutes tonight.

One of my usually wonderful, almost-adult kids is giving me major amounts of stress right now. MAJOR. One thing he is teaching me is that if one is not motivated to do a particular thing, no amount of consequences will budge you. Being too fat to walk, hurting whenever you move, acid reflux, heart palpitations, acne, fatigue, clothes not fitting, pants having holes worn between the thighs, busting out in fat rolls all over, seclusion, inability to fit in chairs... all of those things might *seem* like they would force someone to lose weight, but if a person is not motivated FROM WITHIN, they will keep on plugging along, eating what they want, not changing, even with all of those embarrassments and discomforts. A vague desire to "be thin" is not motivation. You might *want* to be thin but unless you are motivated and determined to do the work to get there, you'll just sit suffering and miserable and blaming everyone and everything else and not make any changes. The desire to change has to come from within.

My kid isn't fat, but that is what he has taught me with the *other* issues he is going through right now. And no matter what consequences I impose or what effects come naturally to him because of his behaviors, he will not change until he is motivated to do so from within. And neither will you.

Nurture your motivation, people. It's the only way you'll get to your goals. Motivation, determination, and just plain commitment.

Half Portions, Double Portions

Back before I was trying to lose weight, I still thought about portions a lot. Except the thinking was, "How big of a portion can I snag" or "How many portions of this can I eat before I am too stuffed?" It was all about getting the biggest, the most. Kinda shameful, actually, now that I think of it. I mean, I would definitely NOT say I was ever a "selfish" kid or person in my life, but somehow when it came to food, I always wanted more.

Cut a pie in eighths, put it in front of me, and as long as "other people" weren't watching, I'd eyeball each piece and take the biggest one.
Walking through the grocery store and picking out a slab of bakery cake (or a whole cake, sometimes), I'd hold each one up to eye level and find the one with the most frosting.
Send me to a potluck, and after my first plate of food, I'd look around and see if anyone else was getting seconds. If *anyone* was, I was, too. Big heaping seconds. And when everyone else was off playing games and socializing, I was sneaking off "to the bathroom" or "to check on the kids" so I could snag another cookie or brownie off the food table.
Put a pizza on the table, and I'd eat as much as I could possibly get into my body, which was often at least 6 pieces.

Even when I started trying to lose weight, I played the portion game. "Oh, one banana has 110 calories? Okay, I will take that HUGE one." As if a HUGE banana had the same amount of calories as a SMALL banana (that is how I treated it, and how I counted it in my calories). Same for any other food. A big piece of cake must have the same calories as a small one. A large apple? Same as a small one. Silly. After I realized I was doing this, I started paying more attention to my choices. Why not pick the SMALL banana? If you're going to count any banana as 110 calories, you still save calories choosing the small one, whether you count it differently or not!

An even more advanced concept is that of half portions. This is something I learned over the past 2 years. Here it is:

Just because a serving is ONE cup of pasta or ONE apple or 13 crackers, you do NOT HAVE TO EAT THAT MUCH!

Whoa. What a concept! You know, it never even occurred to me when I was heavier to eat a HALF serving. I would "limit" myself to one serving, often. But I never realized that I could be fine with even *less* than a serving.

Examples:
Whenever I have crackers now, I give myself a half serving. Usually that is 6-9 crackers. And usually that is plenty!
Whenever I have pasta, I have a HALF cup.
When I have any kind of casserole or fatty side dish, I give myself a HALF helping.
I often make myself a half sandwich for lunch.
When I go to a restaurant, I almost always cut my food in half right away and box half up for another meal.
I order a cup of soup instead of a bowl of soup.
I order a small rather than a medium or large ANYTHING.
And you know what? Half is just as satisfying! Try it! After all, if you have your half serving and find it was not enough, you can always go back for the other half, right?? So you lose nothing!

There is something to be said for learning to be satisfied with less.

Now, there is an exception to this rule. This is something I learned in the past year. This is the rule of DOUBLE Portions:

If it is a vegetable, and not loaded with fat/sauces, take a DOUBLE serving.

Examples:
When I sit down to dinner, I give myself two large helpings of carrots, salad, green beans, broccoli, and/or whatever other veggie is on the table.
When I order any meal out, I ask for extra veggies, no butter/sauces. I might even ask for more veggies instead of rice or pasta.
I get a large salad instead of small (with dressing on the side).

Both rules in action:
Last night's dinner was pot roast, mashed potatoes (made with skim milk), low fat gravy, steamed green beans, and carrots that cooked with the roast. My plate had HALF portions of meat, potatoes, gravy, and DOUBLE portions of green beans and carrots:
2-3oz pot roast, 1/4 c potatoes, drizzle of gravy, cup of carrots, cup of green beans.

Do you think I was hungry afterwards??
No!

I was full on less calories because of using the Half and Double Portions rules.

I made these up as I went along because it works for me. Maybe it will work for you, too! Give it a try next time you eat, and see if you don't feel more satisfied!

Short Update

Just a little helloooo to say, I am still emotionally in a happy place but seem to have come down with some kinda flu late Saturday. Headache, extreme fatigue, sore throat, terrible brain fog. I can't remember what I am doing from one minute to the next, so a coherent post is probably out of the question for now. I did get the tree up (boy it was tough, I took Excedrin, we did lights first and then ornaments later, then today hung stockings. Still haven't gotten all the decorations out). I still weigh 227 which is awesome! My eating is 100%. I took yesterday off from exercise, and today I took a ten minute walk outside but that is my limit right now. I threw a pot roast in the crock pot for dinner tonight which takes no brains and no effort: spray crock with Pam, stick a roast in there (I used a 3-4 pound 7-bone roast, which had almost no bone at all), then smear a can of Healthy Request Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup over the meat, then sprinkle a packet of Lipton Onion Soup Mix on that and mash it around into the soup with a fork, then pour 3/4 of a can of water around the meat. Cook 8 hours on low. I plan to throw a few carrots in there if I have any, about halfway through. Easy, and makes its own great gravy (which I de-fat, season with pepper, and thicken with cornstarch if necessary). I have a pot of kale & onions simmering on the stove, too, for lunch.

Okay, my brain hurts, I am done! See ya tomorrow!

Feeling Great!

Today, I weigh 227 pounds. And it feels SO RIGHT. It feels like I am finally *exactly* where I should be both physically and mentally. You might think that's a really strange thing to hear from a woman who is at least 70 pounds overweight, but I am not talking about reaching a destination here. I am not talking about BMI charts or desired outcomes or clothing sizes. I am talking about my actual weight *finally* matching my mental and emotional weight. Let me explain.

Sometimes, you feel like you weigh a LOT more than you really do. Other times, you feel like you weigh far less than you really do. In both cases, the head games can be uncomfortable. You look in the mirror and gasp, because the person you see is either MUCH fatter or far thinner than you expected. Your mental image does not match your actual physical state. And there is discomfort at the *thought* of being a certain weight when your brain is not actually *there.* Like, when I weighed 233 a week ago, I felt like I was TOO FAT. When I weighed 214 a year and a half ago, I felt like I was TOO THIN. In both cases I was not comfortable with my body and it caused me a bit of emotional distress. Not a lot, but enough to notice.

When you're on a weight loss journey, especially a long one with ups and downs (and having a touch of body dysmorphia), BEING the weight that you IMAGINE yourself to be can be a rare thing. Finding a moment where you body reality and brain image coincides is a grand thing and feels just, well, delightful. And that's where I am right now.

I feel absolutely at home with my 227-pound body. I am happy. Oh yes, I am intent on losing more weight and getting well below 227, but somehow, right now the 220's feels like right where I need to be, mentally, emotionally. So I'll enjoy it, and hope that by the time I melt away another 8 pounds my brain is ready to see 219 on the scale.

This week I biked most days (30 minutes) and walked once (about 35 minutes). Some of the stuff I ate was:

grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup
barbecued pork ribs, mashed potatoes and green beans
oatmeal cooked with butternut squash, apples, cinnamon, and pumpkin, topped with slivered toasted almonds, maple syrup, pomegranate arils, and milk
Chai tea lattes (with agave nectar)
cornbread chili pie with sour cream
butternut squash macaroni and cheese
big spinach salads with Gorgonzola, crumbled bacon, pine nuts, and apple cider dressing
chocolate mousse

Yeah. No deprivation here! Life is good.

An aside...
You may recall that in September, I swore off all fast food. This was difficult for my 4-year-old, who had been getting a Happy Meal almost every week (chicken nuggets, fries, juice box). She LOVED those things. For the first two weeks, every time she saw a McDonalds she had a breakdown. She asked, she begged. "PLEASE Mommy! YOU don't have to get anything if you don't like McDonald's! Just get me some nuggets!" The next few weeks were grumbles of, "Mommy USED to take me to McDonald's, but she doesn't anymore." I had explained a bit about the salt and grease. I had baked her some nuggets and fries at home. She got used to it. She quit asking. Then, last week her dance instructor handed out (gasp) coupons for free chicken nuggets. When my daughter saw the coupon she lit up and jumped with joy! She was so excited (in fact, the coupon was part of a reward she earned in class). After some thought, I told her, "Okay. I will take you through the drive-through and we will pick up your free nuggets and some fries, and we will go home and you can have that for lunch. But this is a one-time thing. We are not going to keep going to McDonald's." She was thrilled!

We went and got her food (I got nothing, I am NOT going back to that place!) She sat down at the table and enjoyed every single bite. She really mmmmm-ed and ahhhh-ed over those nuggets and fries, which she hadn't had in two and a half months. And two hours later, she had some really bad diarrhea. She was on the toilet all evening pooping out greasy nastiness. I guess her body just isn't used to that garbage anymore! No fever, no other "sick" symptoms, so I feel sure it was the McDonald's. She was fine by morning, and she said, "I am NEVER eating McDonald's again!" Lesson learned!

We got our Christmas tree today and I am basking in the wonderful fir tree scent wafting through my living room. Tomorrow we'll play Christmas music and hang lights, ornaments, and candy canes on the tree. I am so excited! I can't wait! Life is good.

Roots of Christmas Cookie Longings

Well, the Christmas Cookies started creeping into my brain yesterday. It happens every year, those cookies. Ever since I started celebrating Christmas when I was 18, I've had a mad affair with them. You see, I spent a lot of years in my childhood seeing *other* kids eat those beautiful Christmas cookies, but not being allowed to have any myself.

I started out my life with the usual holiday excitement in December: a lighted tree, trips to see Santa, special cookies and treats and cards on the wall, and presents on Christmas. When I was five years old (old enough to notice), my mother changed religions and we no longer celebrated Christmas at all. The month of December, when my friends, neighbors and schoolmates were excitedly talking about Christmas, became a month of confusion for me as a small child. Christmas was now "wrong" and "bad," and I was forbidden to partake in the seasonal traditions in any way. Back in the day, they even used to have Christmas at school. There were decorations everywhere. I'd go to art class and be given a project of coloring a picture of Santa and gluing cotton balls on his beard, and I'd say, "I'm not allowed to do that." I'd be singled out with an alternate project (snowman) and have to field questions about why I was different. I'd go to music class and stand silently as the other children sang "We wish you a Merry Christmas" and "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." I got kicked out of orchestra because I wouldn't play Christmas carols in the concert. But the worst part every year in Elementary School was the class Christmas party. I dreaded it as much when I was 10 as I did when I was 5 years old.

It would start in early December, with the teacher instructing everyone to write their names down on a slip of paper and put them into a fishbowl. Then each child would draw a name for the present exchange that would happen during the class Christmas party.

I hated it. I hated sitting there not putting my name in the bowl, and standing there not taking a name FROM the bowl. All the kids thought I was strange, or selfish, or poor, or stupid. It sucked. They'd all stand around chattering excitedly about what they were going to get for each other, who got whom in the draw, and which kind of cookies their mother was bringing to the party. And I stood in the back, alone.

All month long, Christmas treats would pop up. In the cafeteria, they'd hand out frosted Christmas sugar cookies, and I'd go through the line and shake my head and say "no thank you." Teachers would hand out candy canes or small treats and I'd say "no thank you." And then the culmination of my discomfort: the class Christmas party.

Instead of just keeping me home that day or offering to come and pick me up early, my mother insisted I go to school and "learn to stand by my faith and be an example of what is right" (a heavy burden for a 5 or 6 year old). And so every year, I was there when we were sitting in class doing our math and suddenly "Santa" would burst into the classroom with a "Ho Ho Ho!" and all the children would jump up squealing with delight. He'd open his bag and start handing out goodies... mothers would enter the classroom with plates of cookies and cupcakes... and kids would break out their brightly wrapped gifts to exchange with each other. And I would sit in the hall.

As soon as Santa entered, I'd be ushered out to the stark hallway to sit on a hard chair for an hour while the parties went on. I could hear the laughter. I could smell the frosting. Kids would walk past me in the hallway and wonder what kind of trouble I was in that I was excluded from the Christmas party. They'd laugh at me. They'd say "wow you must have done something really bad!" They'd smirk and take bites of cookies as they went by. And I'd sit there, praying. Thinking about how I was the only one doing the "right thing" and how God must be very pleased with me. And then I'd go home to a house devoid of any celebration or brightness, and a mother who was oblivious to how isolated I truly felt. To a mother who didn't realize how greatly it affected me to remember being 5 and having Christmas, and then suddenly never again have a frosted sugar cookie or a candy cane or a wrapped present again in my life.

You'd think that when I grew up I'd just get over this stuff. I decided when I was 18 to go back to a semi-"normal" life and celebrate Christmas with the rest of Christian America. I decided I wanted my kids to enjoy a lighted tree and giving gifts and all the other traditions that go along with this holiday. But I am *not* over it, it deeply affected me and my mother never gave me a bit of comfort over the emotional isolation I endured at school. And as a result, I sort of tend to go overboard with my own kids at Christmastime. It is MY Christmas too. It is every present I never opened or gave, it is every Christmas cookie I never got to eat in school. It is every piece of Christmas fudge I watched my classmates eating. It is like you put that me-child into a windowless room full of Christmas and let her have everything she ever missed, without the attached guilt. That's how Christmas cookies are for me.

I make them every year. I am obsessive about it. I want to see my kids enjoy them. I love giving them to people. I love seeing Christmas cookies all over my kitchen and knowing that IF I WANT ONE I can have it. I CAN and no one is there taunting me or sitting me in the hallway while they indulge.

I AM going to make cookies for Christmas every year for the rest of my life. I am as protective of that as anyone could possible be, and if I even *consider* not making Christmas cookies, my claws come out and I start flipping. This is something that just *is.* I think my childhood experience has made it so, and I am not interested in *fixing* it. I gave up baking for 11 other months of the year to make my life healthier, but Christmas baking is going to happen, without guilt, and I am going to enjoy every second of it.

I've discovered that I don't have to EAT a bunch of cookies to get the absolute comfort and happiness of Christmas cookies. It's the baking, the making them with my kids, the decorating them, the watching others enjoy them... it's the PERMISSION to have them that I need. And I have that. I do watch myself, and limit the number of days cookies are around. I do allow myself some Christmas cookies... it sort of feels like I am healing the inner child somehow... not with food really, but with the whole normalcy and embrace that Christmas feels like to me. I need that. I need a tree with lights, and a present to open, and Christmas music.

So yesterday when I started getting emails with photos and recipes for "new" types of Christmas cookies in them, I started to drool. I thought about making every single type that I saw. I worried about how I would manage to limit myself to just a few types of cookies to bake. I started to save the recipes on my computer, and then, I just didn't. I deleted them. Because really, my soul is completely soothed by the simple tree-shaped frosted sugar cookies that I remember seeing my classmates eat as a child. A couple of chocolate crinkles, some molasses cookies, a bit of fudge. It's enough. It makes me happy. The point isn't to add fancier and "better" cookies and treats every year. The point is tradition and enjoyment. And I can do that with what I have.

Maybe you want Christmas cookies, too. Maybe it reminds you of baking with your Grandma, or the family gatherings of your childhood, or special holidays with your Dad. Whatever. It's ok. Food associations are not BAD. Just be aware. Explore your reasons and your feelings. Decide what it will take to bring you that feeling of connection and comfort, and let it be. Have your cookie if it makes you happy. Just understand it and plan for it. A few cookies in December will not destroy an entire year of healthy eating, but denying ones' self an emotional connection might. Know yourself, make a plan, and enjoy the holidays.

Self Exam Time

And no, I don't mean breasts. (Although you should be doing that every month anyway).

Every so often, it is good to really stop and *look* at yourself and your life, how you feel and why, and whether you are reaching your goals. December is a good time for this. Most people, near the end of the month, are bemoaning yet another year gone by with dropped resolutions. New commitment comes magically on January first, but it always seems so fleeting. Wouldn't it be better to do a self exam more often? Like, maybe several times a year? Then you don't get quite so far off track.

So here's mine.

I am 40 years old, which sometimes feels very young and sometimes feels ancient. I weight 229 pounds, which sometimes feels quite thin and other times feels humongous. I have a life filled with children, a paused career, a dog, and various hobbies, and all of this feels sometimes like an incredible blessing and other times like a huge mess. Isn't that how life is?

I feel, often, that I am doing well, comparatively speaking. Yet somewhere inside me I long to do better. What is "doing better," anyway? Well, I think it is a gradual improvement in one's state, whether that be health, happiness, productivity, or whatever other thing you have set your sights on. But what if your sights are not really set on *anything*?

Answer this:
What do you want to accomplish today?
What would you like to have done by next week at this time?
What do you think will be the same/different in one month?
What would you like to have done/changed one year from now?
What would you like your life to look like in five years? Really think about it. Five years from now, how old will you be? What will your relationships look like? Your job? Your body? Your home? In five years, describe yourself and your life... what you WANT it to be.
And then, when you have done that, go back to question #1 and tell me how what you are doing today is leading you to what you want to see in your life in five years.

It is all inextricably connected... what you do today, next week, in a year, in five years. Because five years ago I decided to get up in the morning and go to my classes, today I have a college degree. Because five years ago I decided to get up, go to work, and use the paycheck to pay my mortgage, today I have a house to live in. Because five years ago I planted a small tree in my yard, today I have a large tree with lovely blossoms that gives me great joy (well, no blossoms in winter, but I look forward to spring!) Because I fed my dog five years ago, he is still alive and healthy today. Because I decided to have sex five years ago, I have a lovely daughter today. Get it? What you do today determines your tomorrow. And your next year. And your five years from now.

You can sit and eat pizza and Big Macs and cookies today and think, "Oh, I will do something better for myself tomorrow" but the fact is that today's actions are building a path to your future. If you pave that path with Ding Dongs, your future is *not* going to be the picture of health. Every step propels you in a particular direction. Every step counts.

So, it's important to check your steps frequently to make sure you are not just going in circles, or walking to China when you wanted to go to Ireland.

My vision of five years includes: well adjusted (mostly grown) children who are still in my life, financial stability, a normal BMI, a strong body, an organized and decorated home.

My *concrete steps* for today (because making a list of to do's but never doing them is a step in the *wrong* direction) are: connect with my children in conversation this evening, stick to a budget, eat under 1700 calories of healthy foods, bike for 30 minutes, sort some stuff, and get glass for a broken frame so I can hang a picture.

If instead, my Today Steps were: be too tired to talk to my kids, spend extra money on some goofy thing I see in the store that I want, splurge on some donuts, be too tired to bike, lay around and let the clutter pile up, and forget to get the glass fixed... then, I am walking a different path that is leading away from my chosen destination. You might think that *lack* of doing something is neutral, but it isn't. A 30 minute workout is a step towards your goal, but *not* doing the 30 minute workout is *not* standing still. Lack of action is STILL A STEP. A step in the opposite direction. And goallessness is like being adrift at sea: you may not be *trying* to get anyplace specific, but you're still going to end up somewhere... and you may not like it.

So take a little time today to reflect on your steps. And make sure you're headed in the direction you really want to go.

How I Learned To Cook

Back when I was a kid, my Dad did all the cooking. He was a fantastic cook. He'd make these really wonderful fancy dishes for company and family that would have everyone raving. I never paid much attention to his cooking, and sadly, he passed away when I was 20 years old. I never learned to cook from the master, and I only have two of his recipes. People still talk about how great such-and-such a dish was, and I often wish desperately that I had the chance to ask him or a recipe box or even a cookbook he owned. But I have nothing. Anyway, he would make tempura, and huge salads, and all kinds of delicious things. I remember him making turkey rice soup with the turkey bones, which is something I still do but with my own recipe since I don't have his. And he would make me breakfast often: eggs fried in the center of bread, or maybe french toast. Good stuff.

When I was little he would ban me and my Mom from the kitchen so he could make us a "surprise." We would hang out in the living room until it was ready, and then walk into the kitchen with a nice appetizer spread on the table. He'd make fun things I loved as a kid: little slices of hot dogs with dabs of ketchup and mustard on little toothpicks; Ritz crackers topped with cheese and a pickle slice and broiled; mushroom caps stuffed with cheese and baked. Fun times!

My Mom, on the other hand, could not cook. She just couldn't. Never learned, I guess. She tried to make carrot cake for my dad but it had CHOPPED carrots in it (crunch crunch). She would make "spaghetti and meatballs" by rolling balls of plain raw hamburger and dropping them into a crockpot filled with Prego. By the time I was a teen, I could make myself a bowl of Ramen noodles, or melt cheese on bread in the broiler. We didn't have a microwave so cooking was trickier back then.

So, to get to the point. How did I learn to cook? No parents teaching me, no baking with grandma (ever). No cooking classes. Yet now I am a darn good cook if I do say so myself. And it was pretty much all self-taught!

When I was a newlywed at 20, I was thrust into the role of wife and mother. My hard working husband and my stepchildren all needed to be fed, and I had to figure it out pretty quickly. I'd been away at college for a year and had survived on plain cream of wheat, Ramen, and peanut butter. I remember many a night with my new husband and stepkids sitting around the table as I brought a huge steaming pot of Ramen out for dinner!

After a few days of Ramen or scrambled eggs, my husband took it upon himself to show me a recipe or two. "Here," he said, "fry some hamburger, and then dump in a can of beans and a can of tomato sauce and some chili powder, and you have chili!" We ate a lot of *that* chili in the early years. He also told me how to throw a roast in the crock pot all day, then make mashed potatoes and a simple gravy and a can of vegetables for a hearty meal. He was a meat and potatoes man, so we had a lot of roasts/potatoes/gravy, too. To this day I make killer gravy.

I got a couple of cookbooks and started trying new things. Once, I followed a recipe for "Peanut Butter Soup" that told me to fry an onion in butter, then add chicken broth and a heaping amount of chunky peanut butter. THAT was pretty horrible... oniony, runny, chicken-y peanut butter with soggy peanut chunks in the bottom of the bowl. Another time I tried my hand at "fried calves' brains," being a farmer's wife and all, knowing my father-in-law had loved to scramble cow brains in his eggs every morning. I cubed the brain, dredged it in breadcrumbs and fried the chunks. I proudly served it to my family, who wondered if it was chicken nuggets or turkey or tofu, until I told them what it was and my stepson promptly threw up in his plate.

I got the hang of baking rather quickly, following recipes from a book I got for Christmas when I was 21. Talking to other wives and mothers who were older than I was helped a lot. I asked people for recipes when I liked something they made. And over time, I got really good at cooking just about anything!

Nowadays, I use my talent to make delicious *healthy* meals for me and my family. I am good at tweaking recipes, substituting ingredients, or even taking the best parts of 2 or 3 or 4 recipes and melding them into one of my own. I love doing this. It's fun!

I am telling you this because so many people say they can't cook, when in fact they can LEARN. It is not hard. It just takes time. I'd say it took me about 5 years to be a decent cook... ten years to be an excellent cook. No classes, just some cookbooks from the library and reading recipes with reviews online and trying over and over until I get things right. And once you get something right, you can make so many more things!

You don't have to lean on frozen meals or fast food or prepackaged crap to lose weight. I hope this story encourages someone to *decide* to learn to cook. Yes, you will burn some things. Yes, you will have some flops. Your kid might even throw up in their plate once or twice. But over time it is SO worth it to get to a place where you can cook just about anything you want... and make it as healthy as you'd like it to be while still tasting great!

If you haven't looked at the recipes over on the left side of my page, now is a good time to start! Taco soup is easy, so is Cabbage Roll Casserole. Try your hand! Freeze the leftovers for healthy "frozen meals." It is never to late to learn a new skill.