I am not perfect!

I have been on my journey to becoming 40 and fabulous for almost a year and I have learned that life is not just about getting one’s physical self in order.  It’s a spiritual, mental and physical journey.  I have found myself to be successful in some areas and not so successful in others.   There’s no need to name names because past blogs will direct you to my ups and downs.

However, through this journey, self-reflection has certainly become a regular in my thought process, which helped me discover the latest iniquity – I am not perfect.

It’s been a while since my last post, but what can I say?  I am not perfect, which is kind of what today’s blog is about if you haven’t guessed it already.

Meet Me.  I am a wife, a mother of two, sometimes three children, and I am not perfect.  I have friends, very good friends, people who I think are friends, and people who tolerate me for the sake of a loved one. 

My husband has been deployed for more than half of my children’s lives; since my youngest was three.  He is now 10.   

On a break from back-to-back deployments, now he lives four hours away from us.  We see him every other weekend.  If we are lucky, sometimes we get to see him two weekends in a row.

I have a child who is smart, but lacks motivation and direction, which is the nice way of saying lazy.  Sadly, he boasts of this fact and is proud of it.  I have another who is smart, talented and succeeds at almost everything, but lacks confidence.

Lastly, I have a child who I believe is smarter than the other two, but he has Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  It’s a disorder that many, including those closest to me, believe is figment of my imagination, but is so very real.

Do I blame them for feeling this way?  No, because I used to be one of those people who thought the same way until it happened to me. 

Am I hurt by this?  Yes, because many are friends and family who know me well enough to know this is not something even I would make up for any amount of attention.  This lack of support and daily struggles with my child takes me on a roller coaster of emotional ups and downs. 

Although we may not be a perfect family, we certainly are one good-looking bunch.  Don’t you think?  

I know you are thinking, what does any of this have to do with my journey to being 40 and fabulous, and why am I telling you this? 

I am telling you this because this is the spiritual and emotional component of my journey.  Many of you are secretly thinking, “OMG, I can’t believe she is putting her business on a social media site for all to read.”  I don’t quite see it that way.  This is my way of humbling me before God and those who love me.

 Of course, some people will tell me to my face “You are so brave to put it all out there for all to read,” which translates to “Girl, you are crazy to put your business on the street!  I would never do that.”

Don’t get me wrong, I am not criticizing anyone’s response to the matter because everyone is entitled to their opinion and that’s not what this is about.  No matter what side of the comments you fall on, if sharing my story and revealing my imperfectness means I am helping someone who may be going through all, even one of the things that I am experiencing, then I have done God’s work. 

I am not brave. I am not perfect.  I am scared.  But this is my therapy and what was on my heart when I woke up this morning.  I am scared of the backlash or reaction that I may get from all who read this, but I am choosing to trust in God as he guides me on my journey to being 40 and fabulous.

Having My Cake and Eating it too!

It's been more than a month since I turned the fabulous 40 and I have actually lost 6 lbs. I know that I say this as if I am shocked at the results. Believe me when I tell you that I am. It doesn't help that my birthday is just four days after Christmas and three days before New Year's Day. Who loses weight or start a diet during the holidays?

Apparently, I do! Call it a last-ditch effort to shed a few pounds despite not meeting my goal, I was crazy enough to start a new diet one day before my birthday. I did this unbeknownst to my husband, who secretly worked for a month with my friends to plan a surprise birthday party.

Boy was I surprised. Not only did he put his heart and soul into throwing a party for me, it actually included a guest list of my friends (this is a story for another blog). I was especially surprised when he presented me with the most fabulous two-tiered birthday cake.

Surprised doesn't even describe my feelings about the cake. I was over the moon about it. This wasn't just any ole' cake. It was the one that caught my eye almost 14 years ago when we were shopping for our wedding cake. I wanted the three-tiered cake with the basket-weave design and he wanted something - let's just say, "cheaper."

You all know my addiction with sweets, so I don't have to tell you how hard it was to resist having a slice. But not having a slice meant hurting my husband's feelings and coming off as unappreciative of his hard work.

Planning the party without my knowing was one feat, but getting someone to recreate the design I so desperately wanted for our wedding cake was another. To hear him tell the story of how he had to search online and make a few phone calls, one would think he had to run the Amazing Race to get the job done.

Given all of this, I didn't have the heart to tell him and all of the people who showed up to help me celebrate this milestone that I am grateful for the gesture, but I won't be partaking in any of the delicious goodies, especially the cake.

The idea to make the birthday cake my long lost, but not forgotten wedding cake turned out to be a two-for-the price of one deal for hubby. No, he didn't get a discount. According to him, it cost him an arm and a leg.

It was a two-fer because it was a chance for him to show me that not only could he pull off such a task without any help from me, but that he was listening. It was one of his most romantic gestures in all of our 13 years of marriage. The bonus is that he did it in front of an audience of my friends. He gets extra kudos for that. It's sort of like getting roses delivered to your office on Valentine's Day for all of your coworkers to see.

The kicker was he didn't just roll out a cake with lit candles for all to sing happy birthday. Nope, he began with a story that went something like this: "Thirteen years ago ... I made a mistake by not listening to my wife because she is the smartest person I know.

Okay, so those weren't his exact words, but they are close enough. You get the idea. He simply explained had he known how important it was for me to have the cake with the basket weave design all those years ago (don't forget the butter cream frosting), he would have given me what I wanted.

Here's the clincher, he clasped his hands together as if he was praying to God, but I am pretty sure he was praying to me, and said, "I hope that this makes up for my ...," I don't quite remember the rest. I am sure he apologized for his insensitivity to my wants.

Who cares? I was so touched by his ingenious gift, I cried and kissed him. One would have thought he was proposing again.

Now, before you get all "that's so sweet" on me, because we both know it was, he didn't exactly go away empty-pockets either. The benefits of me finally getting my dream cake certainly outweighs the cost of any expensive cake.


He was able to redeem himself of a mistake he made years ago by being a groom who actually wanted some "say so" in how things went down for our wedding. Clearly he won on the cake. Oh yeah, and what dresses the bridesmaids will wear. Who knew, right?


Had he known then, what he knows now, I bet he would have just gone with the basket weave design to begin with. It would have saved him 13 years of hearing me complain about how much I regretted not having the cake of my dreams every time our anniversary or my birthday rolled around.


To make matters worse, we received a dish set with the basket weave design as a wedding gift. It was purely a coincidence, but added salt to the wound none the less. Eventually I sold them in a garage sale because I could not stand to look at the dishes any longer. They were a constant a reminder of how I did not get my dream cake. But was all of this madness really about the cake or something deeper, like giving in and settling for a less expensive and attractive cake?


Of course it was! Did I mention I have an addiction to sweets? The cake had the butter cream frosting just like I like it. The frosting was practically sliding off of the cake it was so buttery. A friend even added some finishing touches like fresh flowers just like the original. What's a girl to do? I had cake and it was delicious!


Oh the guilt! But my guilt didn't stem from me constantly thinking about how many calories I was consuming with every bite. It was from how I let something so petty like a cake design be even an inkling of contention in my marriage.


I am pretty sure it didn't eat away at hubby quite as much as it did me. It probably didn't eat away at him at all, but obviously he figured out he'd better do something to right my wrong or else he'd spend the rest of his life hearing about it.


Lucky for me God blessed me with a man who cared enough to rectify the situation no matter how silly it may be. He saw how important it was for me to have this cake because to me, it was perfect. Everybody knows nothing and no one is perfect, except for what we imagine in our mind. And God.


There's nothing left to say. Who can top God's perfectness? I guess this the part where I wrap up my story by talking about how I am also blessed to have lost any weight considering the holiday festivities and the boxes of Girl Scout cookies currently clogging up my dinning room. If you count negativity and holding grudges as weight, then let's add two more pounds to my total.


Now I am going to throw in a bunch of cliches like, it was better late than never, and having my cake and eating it too was so worth the wait.

Happy Birthday to me!

Okay ladies,

As the days to my 40^th birthday inched closer, I dreaded the ideal of having to disclose the results of my weight-loss journey.  For those of you who have tuned in since the beginning know that for the past seven months I have been working to lose 40 lbs. by my 40^th birthday.  I called it my 40 and fabulous campaign.  I’d be lying if I said that I decided to lose weight because I just wanted to be healthy.  Heck, I would love to be able to wear things like bikinis, spandex, tank tops and whatever else they make for skinny people.

But, the main reason is I wanted to be healthier so that I could extend my outlook on life with my children and their children to come.  I say this not to be dramatic, but because the reality of my family’s history with diabetes, high blood pressure and cholesterol is no joke.  My dad died at age 51.  My sister, God bless her soul, died two years ago today.  She was 51 as well. She was overweight for as long as I could remember and the diabetes took its toll on her kidneys to the point of deterioration and she needed dialysis.  I could go on and on about the various relatives in my family who have either one of the above or all three, but I won’t.  It’s not the legacy that I want to leave for my children.  I want them to see me work hard to be healthy so that when I talk to them about eating right, they know that I am speaking from experience.

This is not to say that I am not doing that already, but I fall short in some areas.  It’s not only important for them to see me modeling good habits, but also for them to see me work out my failures.

And right now ladies, I have failed when it comes to meeting my 40 lbs. of weight loss.  In fact, I am pretty sure that I may have gained 40 instead of losing them.  Sadly, the whole purpose of going public with this crazy way to lose weight was the thought of having to be held accountable to all who read my blog, which in return would give me the results I so desired.  Having to admit that I have failed at meeting my goal would be humiliating. Therefore, I will work my butt off to make my goal. 

At least, that is how I envisioned it.  But somewhere along the way, I discovered that as a Christian, I cannot separate parts of my life from my religious beliefs. I believe my pastor called it putting them into boxes and pulling out each box as needed.

During the past seven months I have experienced a variety of emotions that fueled my motivation to lose weight.  But none have been more powerful than that of my relationship with God.  

As I walk this path to becoming closer to God, my goal to lose weight, although still important, was no longer at the forefront.  I am embarrassed that I did not meet my weight-loss goal, but very proud that I am growing my relationship with God. By no means am I a perfect Christian because I go through phases of not reading my bible daily, but I am so much better than I was when I started my journey.  And speaking of my journey, I may have turned 40, but it’s not over. I will continue to fight the good fight of losing weight and keeping you posted with my struggles and successes.

As for the fabulous, I didn’t have to lose 40 lbs. to learn that I was already fabulous. However, I did learn that I am lucky to have a fabulous group of friends who are supportive, non-judgmental and not afraid to laugh, cry and share their experiences with me.

I have begun a new regiment to my weight-loss plan, so stay tuned for my New Year blog for more updates and comical tidbits to my on-going journey. Please have a safe and Happy New Year!

The Hangover

Before anyone passes judgement on this post because of its title, let me first point out that this story is nothing like the movie.


First of all, I didn't wake up in a hotel in Vegas with a tattoo.  Well, a freshly etched one anyway.  Nor did I have a missing tooth, an extra kid that's not mine or a Bengal tiger in my bathroom.

However, I did wake up in a hotel room with three other women; only one of which I knew, and she was sleeping in the bed across from me.  I, woke up next to her sister-in-law, with, you guessed it, a hangover.  Yep, it was some night, but it's not what you think.


It was a Christan Women's retreat called Momsanity and I had the pleasure of sharing this experience with women from my mom's small group and my church.  I don't know about anyone else, but for me, it was an over-night three-fer.  I got a break from the kids, a chance hang out with friends, and meet new ones.  I know, this still sounds a bit risk-ay, but bare with me for a few more sentences.


Momsanity, which cost about $100 bucks to attend, included an evening of hors d'oeuvres, drinks, if you were so inclined, mingling, breakfast the next morning, and our fabulous guest speaker Jen Hatmaker.  The only catch to this too-good-to-be-true deal is that you had to sleep four people to a room.  If you didn't indicate who you'd like to be paired with, ideally people you know, you had to bunk with strangers.  


Some folks would be a little bit skiddish about sharing a room with strangers, but for a relaxing night away from the kids and no bickering of who's being meaner and why, I'd do it.  And apparently I was not alone because there were about 100 women there ready to be fed, not only the swanky hors d'oeurvres, but the word of God.


Of course, nobody knows better than our guest speaker what a night out with the girls is like.  Hatmaker, an author of several religious books is also a mother of five.  My mom's group recently completed her book Tune In.  I found it to be enlightening.


As for Hatmaker and her message, she was awe-some!  Not only did she fill my soul with spiritual wisdom, she did it through some much needed laughter.  For a moment I thought I was at a comedy club because I just couldn't stop laughing.   


What I loved the most about her was how real and authentic she was about sharing with us her parenting and every day life.  She's not afraid to share the flaws or mistakes that she makes on her journey through parenthood and as a Christian.

I have heard friends describe me with those words, real and authentic, especially when I thought of this crazy idea to start a blog about my journey to becoming skinny again.  Ok, it's really not about being skinny again. Yes it is. Well, sort of, but not really.


The point is, at first I was not sure if it was a compliment or just a nice way of saying, "She is crazy, I certainly wouldn't put my business out on the street like that for everyone to hear."  The more that I heard this, I starting to second guess what I was feeling.

But then the messages started to trickle in from women from all walks of life, telling me how much they can relate to what I am going through; whether it be weight-loss related, military spouse issues or dealing with a child suffering from some sort of disorder, they poured out their hearts to me.  I read them all and they humbled me.


I knew that regardless of how this 40 and Fabulous Journey adventure turns out, my blog is serving a purpose that goes beyond me losing weight.  I know that it is helping to help heal my soul and hopefully helping others.


Now, when I hear someone describe me as real and authentic, I don't get offended.  I feel proud that I have enough real and authentic experiences ( I wouldn't recommend them for everyone) that  I don't know of any other way to be, especially if my story can help someone else.  With all of the drama that comes with my everyday, ordinary life, quite frankly, it's too much work to have to be anything other than ...


Besides, trying to be someone I'm not never really works out for me.  You guys saw how that little ditty turned out for me last spring with the hair weave and the wigs.  But let's not go there!


I'm guessing you want to know how does any of this have to do with how I woke up with a hangover?  So would I.


The truth is, I am not sure why I woke up with a raging headache, especially since I only had one Apple Martini and can remember the events of the night quite clearly.  None of which included the before mentioned wild animal and other bizarre happenings. 


It was just me and my girl Amie, her sister-in-law and another brave woman who dared to sleep with strangers to get a break from the daily grind.  The only thing I can think of is I must have gotten drunk on the words of our guest speaker.  It was some gathering.


In retrospect, the retreat gave me a nice little break from my 40 and Fabulous regime.  I am still pretty far off from reaching my 40-lbs-lost goal, but I am learning that I am certainly pretty fabulous.

Never Again Volunteer Yourself

Honor, Courage and Commitment. These are the core values that make up the characteristics of a good Sailor in the United States Navy. The same can be said for family members of said Sailor, especially the spouse.

At least, that is how my husband explained it to me soon after we were married. We hadn’t even checked out of our hotel room before he broke the news to me.

“Welcome to the Navy!” he said proudly. “You are officially a military dependent! You represent me, and everything you and our (future children) do reflects on me, so always be on your best.”

"Hold up! Wait a minute! Nobody said anything about having children! And what’s this business about being a dependent? I, Nicole Jackson, I mean Jackson-Trull am not dependent upon anyone!"

In fact, I am the bread winner, so how does that equate to me being his dependent? Um, excuse me God, I’d like a do over.

Okay, so I didn’t quite say those words to his face, but that’s what ran through my mind as he told it to me some 15 years ago.

At age 27, I had dated my share of frogs before my prince came along, so I was certain that I had not rushed to judgment …this was the man that I wanted to marry. No other would do. But I have to tell you, after hearing this dependent nonsense, I absolutely was thinking, as an intelligent, educated woman, I certainly should have read the fine print better.

And so begins the story of my abrupt introduction into life as a Navy wife. This certainly is no easy task as any spouse married to someone in the military will tell you, but it certainly takes a lot of honor, courage and commitment to hold such a title.

　
If someone would have told me 20 years ago that I would be living the life that I live now, I would not have believed it. You see, for as long as I could remember, I swore that I would never get married or have kids. I would live shacked up with a guy, by my choice, of course. I would be doing the lawyer/writer thing, conquering the world and taking no prisoners.

Married to a Navy man and working for free as a stay-at home mom with a 9, 10 and 18-year-old, my life couldn’t be further from that young girl’s way of thinking. Strangely, I don’t know how my current situation came to be.

I do recall meeting the man of my dreams, falling in love and vowing to Honor him and follow him wherever he goes. And six months into our marriage when the time came for us to pack up and go, I had to make good on my promise because “We go wherever the Navy sends us,” my husband says, every time I asked if we could choose someplace tropical like Hawaii.

And so, I went ...from boon sticks of North Carolina to the middle of the Mojave desert. We've crissed-crossed the U.S. and then some. The first time we moved, I had to do it alone and boy was I scared. I had to drive from Yuma, Ariz. to Pensacola, Fla. where hubby was finishing up his schooling to become an aircrewman. It was just me and the cat. 

It took some Courage and after 13 years of moving every couple of years and experiencing a whole lot of firsts without hubby, everything in between just seems to be a blur. People say to me all of the time, "I don't know how you do it?"

Well, my answer is," neither do I." I just do it because whatever "it" is, it has to be done. But I can't take all of the credit for having the will or the courage to live this sort of lifestyle. It's only through the Grace of God that I survive whatever comes my way. You can call it Courage or divine intervention.

All that I know is in an instant, I went from being a fabulous diva (as you can see I am still working on humility) with an exciting journalism career to a military dependent with not one or two, but three children attached to my hip at every turn. The life that I carefully planned out on the pages of my Josten’s Senior Scrapbook quickly faded and reality has slapped me hard in the face.

I’ll admit that I am still a diva on the inside, it’s just that the outter diva could use a little work. Let’s face it, it’s hard to look your best when you have dried baby food on your shirt and water colors in place of nail polish on your fingertips.

As for my current job situation, it’s really difficult to hold on to a good job when you have to move every 2-3 years. And we weren't even lucky enough to get a big city like San Diego. We always landed ourselves in an area that required a two-hour drive to the nearest airport or mall.

I know what you're thinking, that's great because you probably saved more money not living near a mall. But the fact of the matter is you can rack up a pretty hefty bill when you are bored and all there is to do is stroll the aisles of Walmart.

With each change of duty station, the offering pay for a reporter at a small-circulation newspaper got smaller and smaller. Eventually, it cost more to work than stay at home when you factor in the cost of childcare. 

So I did what any strong woman with an adapt-and-overcome attitude would do. I became a stay-at-home mom - something I said I would never to do, right before I said I didn’t plan on having kids anyway. It’s funny how that all worked out.

Giving up my career to support hubby's career definitely was not part of the plan. This must be what they mean by Commitment. You certainly have to be committed to your spouse and their desire to serve their country to live such an unusual lifestyle.

So instead of jet setting across the U.S. to cover the super bowl and celebrity parties, year after year I am forced to host my own super bowl party from the comfort of my living room. The guests lists consists of two talking children who won't stop asking a million questions about the Cowboys, like "Which uniform color are they wearing?" And, "Did the Cowboys win?" 

There's no doubt their dad has poisoned their little brains to root for His team. But I will give him his fan club of little Cowboy supporters because mommy rules when it comes to all things important in the household. That's right, he has to come to me with the important questions like "Where do we keep the peanut butter?" And he has to hear "That's not how mommy does it," at least once a day. So take that you stinking Cowboys groupies!

It's funny how there more things change, the more they stay the same, like my love for my husband and kids, and the respect that I have for all that he and others like him in the military do for our country.

I know at first I was sounding off like a bit of a complainer, but that's not my intent at all. I guess, I just want to show that no matter how much you try to prep and plan out your future, sometimes life throws you a curve ball and you have to adapt and overcome the changes.

People like to joke that NAVY stands for "Never Again Volunteer Yourself." Despite the ups and downs we've had throughout our life as a military family, if I had to do it all again, I would.

Cupcakes, Cookies and Pies! Oh My!

Okay ladies,
I bet you thought I was missing in action or that I had given up on this crazy 40 and Fabulous adventure.  But I assure you I have not.  While my excuse for why I have been missing in action is lame, the best way to explain it to you is like this:

Have you ever had a friend or relative who only calls when things are going good?  You can almost bet that things aren't on the up and up when you don't get that weekly phone call to hear how great life is, or you don't see as many FB posts about the great meals they've cooked and all of the cool places they are hanging out.

Or, how about that friend who only calls to vent about their relationship problems and ask for your advice?  You advise her to "drop that zero and get herself a hero."  The conversation ends on a positive note with you feeling like you've done a good deed by helping her drop some dead weight, only to find out months later that she totally ignored your advice, support and encouragement and took him back?

You don't hear from her for a long time.  She is ashamed because she knows that despite having your support, she has fallen off the wagon.  Sounds familiar?

Well, I have not exactly fallen off the wagon, but I am certainly close to touching the ground.  Don't get me wrong, I am still exercising (not to the extent that I should be) but I am also having my cake and eating it too. 

And here lies the problem ... the cake, the cookies and don't forget Cold Stone's Peanut Butter Perfection because you know I "love it."  If it has chocolate or yeast in it, I have eaten it.  I have been telling myself that I can have those things because I am exercising vigorously.  However, I have reached a point where I am literally exercising to maintain my current weight.

My last weigh in showed that I gained fat and muscle.  My doctor was so confused about the results that she weighed me three times.  I pretended to be just as dumbfounded as she was as she studied the results.

But the guilt got the best of me.  Eventually I had to confess my sins and admit the guilt.  I have been eating s'mores and pastries of all sorts.  My thought process was, "as long as I am working out, I can eat what I want."  Clearly that theory has not worked well for me.

Last month I had the nerve to step foot into Extraordinary Desserts days before my big run in the Navy's annual POW/MIA 5K.  It's a 3-mile run that should have been a piece of cake, no pun intended.

To make matters worse, I invited two other friends and hubby to tag along with me.  Boy was I being cocky.  Prior to the race, one of our friends, hubby and I made a pack to stick together no matter what. I was only a mile in when I started to struggle, my breathing was out of control and I had slowed to pretty much a walk.  Surely I thought I was going to die. A bit over dramatic, but true.

Our friend and hubby were determined to keep their end of the bargin despite my plea for them to run ahead.  But even the friend had to draw the line somewhere when people walking with baby strollers started to pass us.  I walked a bit and eventually found my groove around the 2-mile mark and pushed on to finished the race at my slowest pace ever. 
 
Sadly, this embarrassing feat didn't serve as my wake up call that my "eat-whever-I-want" attitude was not working for me?  Nope, just recently I made a trip all the way up to La Jolla for a Red Velvet Cupcake from Sprinkles.

Umm, umm!  It was good.  I felt no shame or guilt either.  But, humility finally showed up during my bootcamp session as I struggled to do the various exercises.  I could just feel the lard used to make the cupcake spilling out over my over waistline as I tried, but to no avail, to do as many burpies as I could in 30 seconds, then sprint a few yards and back.

It was after several sets of exercises like that, that I realized something has got to give.  My addiction to sweets is so strong that no pill or amount of exercise can get this monkey off my back.  All I can do is pray.  Prayer for myself is something that I have forgotten to do. 

As I mentioned in my last blog, I really believe that my faith in God will be the source of my success.  So what is my plan to get me back on the right track, you ask? 

I am going to ask you to pray for me (if you believe in God. If not, send good vibes my way) as I continue on my Journey to being 40 and Fabulous.  Pray that not only will I rid myself of this sweet tooth, but that I gain discipline in the areas of healthy eating habits, challenging myself in my exercise and in making time to spend with God each day.

My second plan of action is to successfuly complete this new book called Made To Crave that I am studying in my weekly Mom's group.  I am only a few chapters in and I am already excited about what is to come.  I thank you in advance for your support.

Cheaters Never Win

Okay ladies,
it's been a while since my last post. But in my defense, next to Christmas, this is a busy time of year. With summer break comes out-of-town guests, especially if you live in beautiful San Diego, and a whole hosts of other distractions, which leads me to my topic for this entry.

I have just come from weighing in with my doctor and I am happy to report 1 lb. of fat loss and 8 lbs. of muscle gained. And while I am ready to celebrate publicly, I know in my heart that I am cheating myself because I have not been faithful to my diet plan.

I still succumb to the sweet-tooth cravings in the evening and have not been watching what I eat. I will admit that I usually start my day with healthy choices, but as it goes on and life gets busy, I skip meals, then overcompensate when I do get a moment to eat. The only saving grace for this behavior is boot camp, which is 2-3 times a week.

I am convinced that if I would have kept up with my usual exercise regime outside of boot camp, in addition to not giving in to my daily indulgences, my fat loss could have been much greater.

The fact of the matter is, I have been cheating. And while I can hide the truth from you all now, you will know my fate in the end if I don't meet my goal. It's been three weeks since my last weigh in. Normally I weigh in every two weeks. So it doesn't take a rocket scientist to do the math on this.

In three weeks time, I have only lost a pound. I need to lose a lot more than that per week if I want to meet my goal. Don't get me wrong, I am happy to have gotten the results of 1 lb. lost because I still believe that something is better than nothing. I am certainly happy to be going in the right direction. But I can do better.

As a mother of a Cub Scout and a Girl Scout, I am always reminding them that integrity means, "Doing the right thing even when no one is looking." My boy genius reminded me of this fact when he called me out in front of the entire boot camp class for "cheating," according to him.

Technically, I was not doing the exercise properly. But in his eyes, I was cheating. The boy genius, who normally hits the park's play area and does not come within 20 feet of where I am, unless he is tattling on his sister, just happened to be watching the final leg of our grueling ab workout.

We were doing bicycles, bringing the elbow in to meet the knee on the opposite side. In addition, my shoulders were to be off the ground. Apparently, my shoulders were not.

Unbeknownst to me, the boy genius was watching and made it no secret that I was doing it wrong. "Mom, you are cheating! You are doing it wrong," he yelled across the park.

Embarrassed by the chuckles from my fellow boot campers, I yell back. "You don't know what you are talking about. Go back to the park and finish playing."

"Yeah, but why does everyone else have their shoulders off the ground and you are just laying there?" he yells back. "I'm just trying to help you."

More laughter erupts from the class. I sit up to access the situation and sure enough, he was right. I was doing it wrong. At some point in our lives, everyone has done the bicycle ab workout, so it really wasn't a hard concept. You just have to concentrate on proper form.

I don't know whether I subconsciously cheated or what, but you know the old saying ... "Out of the mouth of babes ... comes the truth."

He was right. What could I do? I had to lead by example and get my butt in gear. Yes I boasted about my 1 lb. of fat loss, but as I was reminded of his words not so long ago, I had to humble myself because I know that it was grace that allowed me to achieve it. And that it could have been much better if I had not been cheating. Clearly, I have not shown integrity.

I could have chosen not to confess this to you, but I have to put my money where my mouth is. I've laid it all out on the table thus far, so there is no reason to turn back now. I know that as my family and friends, you want nothing but the best for me and that I am only cheating myself when I am not honest.

I also recognize my that downhill spiral correlates with the same time frame that I began to slack off with my daily Bible study readings. I do recall mentioning in my last blog entry that God needs to be my source of motivation or I will fail. I truly believe that.

I was reminded of my belief this week as I sat in the doctor's office to follow up on that funky skin rash that I told you about a couple of months back. Still no word on the cause of that, but it turns out, my glucose reading is perfect, which is great news.

As I was waiting in the doctor's office, I saw an article written by a Navy chaplain titled, Stepping Up. He began the article addressing the excuses I have been using not to stay on track with my daily scripture readings and healthy eating. He mentioned that with all that has been going on in the world, with fighting wars, wacky weather and destructive storms, it's no wonder people are feeling a bit overwhelmed and anxious.


The author ended his story with my favorite Bible verse, Isaiah 40:31. You know the one that I like to repeat over and over when I am running up a hill or struggling through a workout?

Basically it reads: Those who have faith in the Lord will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles; run and not grow weary, walk and not faint.

The news of my husband's impending retirement, then his unretirement, family sicknesses, job search and the stress of the normal daily activities can certainly bring about a feeling of anxiety and being overwhelmed, but I know that I need to to be stubborn like the mule and continue to "Shake it off and step up."