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."

The Camera adds 10 lbs.

Last week we traveled to Dallas, Texas for my son's high school graduation.  I am almost certain that I gained back the 5 lbs. that I lost the first month of this 40 and Fabulous Journey.

Have you ever heard the saying, "Everything is bigger in Texas?"  Well it certainly couldn't be farther from the truth where my body is concerned.  The entire time that I was in Texas, I felt down-right fat. 

I felt sluggish and out of shape, despite keeping a regular exercise regime.  I am not sure if it was the constant sweat dripping from every nook and cranny that made me feel this way, or the heat that my body is no longer accustomed to experiencing.  Whatever the case may be, pictures certainly don't lie.

Seeing my oldest son graduate was a blessing, but after careful review of the family photos, I can't help but want to crop myself out of the pictures.  I did not recognize myself in the photos.  Part of my shock may have been the new hairdo, but most certainly the rest was seeing my body stretched to the largest I have ever seen it.

Living here in San Diego where people are always exercising and are very health conscious (not that I am saying the folks in Texas are not), I tend to think that I fall into the category of fit folks, especially since I have been pretty active with the exercising.

But after a few days in the sweltering Texas heat, I was sure that I needed to change the "I" in fit to an "A." There's nothing like seeing a few photos of yourself to slap you in the face for a reality check.

The last time that I felt this way, I had lost 12 lbs and was feeling quite proud of myself until my son, who was 3-years-old at the time, busted my bubble.

Hubby was on his first deployment and we were in a race to see who could lose the most weight.  I had been working out like a maniac and the fruits of my labor were starting to show.  Well, at least until I decided to take a picture of myself to send to hubby.

Because I was dressed in my Sunday best and headed to church, I thought, "What better time to take a picture?"  I gave my 3-year-old son a quick lesson on how to focus the camera and snap the picture. He was obedient and did what I ask before running off to whatever he was doing before I engaged him in my self-absorbed project.

As I viewed the playback picture, I was disappointed to see that the pictured would have been perfect had it not been for the fat chick who was hogging the view of me.  OK.  The fat chick was me! Certainly the camera added 10 lbs., which meant technically I only lost 2 lbs.

Shocked to see a slightly skewed image from how I saw myself, I said, "This picture makes me look fat!"

My son, who had returned from gathering a few toys from his room happened to be walking past as I said this, retorted, "You are fat!"

At that moment, my mouth dropped.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  What he said was a blow to my ego.  He was so nonchalant about it, that he didn't blink or even look up to face me. Clearly he had no clue of the impact his words had on me.  He just kept walking and tinkering with the toys that were in his hands ... that's what made it all so funny.

I thought of the phrase, "Out of the mouth of a babe ..." comes the truth.  It was a humbling experience. There was no maliciousness about it.  His heart and his words were pure.

Disappointed and discouraged, I did not give up.  It just meant I needed to work harder.  Eventually I lost 20 lbs. total and won the contest against hubby.  It was a process that I repeated with each deployment thereafter, a total of four more times.  Sadly, the results just never seemed to stick once hubby returned.

Frustrated with the constant up and down pattern of my weight and motivation, I kept attacking the problem with all the weapons I could muster. But it wasn't until recently that I realized I was going about this 40 and Fabulous Journey all wrong.

This past Sunday my pastor spoke about keeping our bodies sacred by taking care of it.  He mentioned the three mistakes that people make when trying to lose weight: They rely on their own power instead of God. Their motivations are wrong because they are doing it for sex appeal or longevity.  Lastly, they try to change on their own without the proper support system.

Boy did he get my attention. Certainly I started this 40 and Fabulous Journey for longevity.  And, of course, even a bit for vanity reasons. Who doesn't want to look and feel their best?  But what I failed to do was rely on him for my strength and motivation.

The first time that I lost the weight, I spent a lot of time running on the treadmill.  I did not do nearly as much cross training as I am doing now.  But I did find myself quoting Bible verses and meditating on the word quite a bit.  I was growing in my faith and as a result, my fears about losing my spouse in the war were put at ease.

Fast forward five years and you get today's me, who finds herself at a crossroads again.  Once again struggling with weight gain and a new fear about the future as hubby retires from the Navy.

Ladies, my head is hard and my memory is short.  How soon have I forgotten who to call on for help. Instead, I continue to try to fix it myself.  Frustrated about the lack of results I wanted to see, I decided to dig my heels in with harder training the day after we returned from Texas.  I spent the week sweating and burning calories, but to no avail. 

My moment of truth came at the end of a 6-mile run last Saturday morning.  I was about a mile and a half away from our ending point and it was all an uphill journey.  My mind and my body did not want to take another step. 

My husband slowed down to wait for me and give me words of encouragement, but for a brief moment, my mind had shut down as I uttered the words, "I can't do this!"  Hubby yelled at me, "Yes you can!"  I ignored him and began to walk.  I walked a few paces before the guilt of feeling defeated set in.  Even if I wanted to continue on, my body said, "No!"

At that moment, I called on God.  I drew from a strength that I have with me always, but sometimes fail to use because I don't want to waste my requests on silly things.  What if I need a kidney or need him to help me show my husband that he is wrong and I am right?

I began reciting Isaiah, 40:31.  It's a verse that I use many times when I start to feel doubt and need a pick me up.  I often used it when I ran the hills during my training for the half marathon.  That, I felt was worthy of God's help because I was raising money for Cancer research.

Anyway, I used God as my strength to help me complete the run.  I still wasn't sure how all of this tied in together until later that day, when I heard the pastor's sermon on Motivating Truths About My body and how I can honor Him with it.  I realized only God can be my motivator to reach my goal.  And not so that I can be just 40 and Fabulous, but for his will.

Last week I suffered a set back to my ego, but I needed to see the fat girl who is blocking the view of me so that I can tell her to move out of the way because God has something great planned for me.

The cookie caper

Okay readers, I will have to confess that my will power has been put to the test during this week's 40 and Fabulous weight-loss journey.  With so many end-of-year school activities that consists of goodies of all sorts, it's been difficult staying on track to say the least.

However, I followed what I ate and was true to recording the good and the bad stuff. What saved me from myself was staying on track with my exercise regime.

As I type these words, a pack of Costco's gigantic chocolate chip cookies sit on my counter. They are left over from a Girl Scout Ceremony held at my house few days ago. I have no problem eating a healthy and balanced meal at every sitting, but sweets are my weakness.

However, the Costco cookies were no match for the Girl Scouts' Samoas, which I thought I was rid of thanks to my son, who pulled off the most successful cookie caper of all times a few months back.


Many of you, who have been on the receiving end of my daughter's sales pitch know that she participates in the annual Girl Scout cookie fundraiser, which always results in me purchasing a case or two to send to her dad and other deployed friends.

And for past three or four years he has been deployed during this time. So we mail some, because it is always a moral booster for the troops. We freeze some, because you can only get them once a year. And of course, we eat some. Here lies my problem.

Remember that weight-loss program through my doctor's office that I told you about? I did not have to follow a strict diet, but it required me eat specific servings of fat, protein, carbs and so on at every meal while staying within my caloric intake.

Every two weeks I go for a weigh in at my doctor's office. They have this special equipment that breaks down how much muscle I have gained and how much fat I lost. It gives me a computer printout with a chart that shows my progress from start to finish.

I dropped 11 lbs. the first month of doing this. It was so easy. I even lost during Christmas time. Who loses weight during Christmas? Me!!

I was on a losing streak until Girl Scout cookie season began. The print out did not lie. I recall explaining how the system worked to hubby after he returned from deployment last year. He noticed the peaks on the chart and asked "What happened here in this January/February time frame," where clearly there was a dramatic rise in fat gain? I could only respond with "It was Girl Scout cookie season." He laughed and understood.

This year I didn't even get opportunity to claim my fat gain from Girl Scout cookies because the boy genius beat me to it. He single-handily pulled off the most successful cookie caper of all time. Over a two-month period, he sneaked and consumed 10 boxes of Girl Scout cookies; eight boxes of Samoas and two Tagalongs. He was just two boxes shy of completing a case. He was well on his way to doing so had he not gotten caught.

The boy genius is not a big junk food eater, so what would possessed him to resort to sneaking and hiding the cookies? I can only chalk it up to a variety of things.

About a year ago, he was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The ADHD I have always suspected, but the OCD threw me for a loop. From the time he was three I would ask his doctors, childcare providers and even school teachers about his behavior, but the frequent responses were "He's a boy," and "he's acting out because his dad is deployed."

After a while, I questioned my own sanity and whether or not I was one of those parents who was determined to find something wrong with my child. Imagine the relief I felt when someone finally listened. I also felt sad for my son because he had suffered for so long without getting the support he needed.

After much agony on how to proceed with this information, his father and I decided to medicate and change his diet to gluten-free. After a series of trial and error medications, we found one that we liked because this particular one did not suppress his appetite. One of the side effects to ADHD stimulant medicine is the loss of appetite, which was not a good thing for my barely 40-lb. eight year old.

For a short while, things were good. He was doing well in school and there was little to no behavioral problems. He was not too happy with the gluten-free diet at first, but he finally adjusted without much complaint.

His diagnosis affected the entire family. It made us think a lot about what we ate, where we ate and how to incorporate these changes into our daily lives without too much disruption. It was difficult and expensive. I stocked up on coupons for gluten-free products and switched to soy milk.

At first the boy genius felt left out whenever there was a party at school and he was not allowed to eat the same treats. I learned to coordinate with his teacher ahead of time to find a gluten-free brownie or chocolate chip cookie mix to make sure he had the same as the other kids.

Just as we had this diet thing down pat, the meds started to go off kilter. His body absorbed the stimulant so quickly that it wore off within a few weeks time. The doctor kept increasing the dosage, despite my protests.


Another side effect was not being able to sleep at night. It was like having an infant in the house again. Long story short, during his many nights of being awake and wondering around the house, he would finally get hungry. I started keeping little things like crackers and cheese, granola bars and peanut butter crackers in a snack jar for him to munch on.

But unbeknownst to me, he had graduated into something much bigger like the secret stash of Girl Scout cookies I had hidden in the deep freezer for hubby and his coworkers.

The time to mail them off had come and gone by the time cookie season kicked off. Samoas and Tagalongs are hubby's favorites, so I loaded up on those with plans to hand deliver them and the kids to Hawaii myself.  The kids were riding the ship back home with hubby and I stayed a few extra days for some much needed R&R. He, the kids and his coworkers could enjoy them on their way back to home port.

During my stay in Hawaii, I made the decision to take him off the meds because of the drastic changes in his behavior. I was awaiting the arrival of hubby to provide support to overrule the doctor's decision, to yet again increase the dosage even higher. There were a host of strange behaviors, which I will save for another post.

At night, long after dinner was put away and I was fast asleep, boy genius would help himself to a pack of Girl Scout cookies. One Sunday morning I woke up to the smell of Samoas on his breath, but he denied, denied, denied that he had eaten cookies for breakfast. This stretched out over a period of six weeks.

Because there was so much trading going on between myself and the other moms, I didn't notice that the stash of only the Samoas and Tags drastically disappearing. I just figured I didn't buy as much as I thought and would trade out for more.

I never suspected boy genius of eating them because he never showed an interest in the chocolate cookies. His favorite are the lemon because "No one wants the lemon cookies," he said, whenever we would make our door-to-door cookie sale rounds.

It wasn't until two days after hubby returned from deployment, with the kids in tow, that we discovered the remnants of his cookie caper - empty boxes strategically hidden under his bed. It was a wake up call for us all on just how serious the situation had gotten.

I didn't know whether to be mad that he had cleaned me out of all of the chocolate cookies and that I didn't discover it until one week after cookie season ended. There was no way to replace what he had eaten.

Or, be mad at the fact that he ate them all by his lonesome and didn't gain a pound. Had it been me, it would have certainly showed on the chart. With my luck, it would have gone off the paper and broke the computer.

For weeks, just the mention of Girl Scout cookies left me bitter and brought of memories of a difficult time in our journey with his diagnosis. Although the medicine was the catalyst for his strange behavior, we still had to teach him that there are consequences for his actions. He had to pay for the cookies that he ate; $40 bucks worth. Lucky for him it was his birthday month, so he had the money to cover his expenses.

The other day hubby and I were cleaning out the garage and an unopened box of Samoas fell from a box of items I had set aside for a garage sale. We couldn't believe what we were seeing. It was a blast from the past. The Costco cookies sitting on my counter paled in comparison to the Samoas that literally fell into my lap.

Instead of getting angry, we both laughed at the irony of it all. I had just committed myself to backing off the sweets and losing 40 lbs. and out falls a box of Samoas. If that wasn't a test of my will power, I don't know what is. I tossed it in the deep freezer and continued with the cleanup.

Being able to laugh about the Great Cookie Caper showed just how far we had come in the three short months since this all happened. Experts say laughter is great medicine during times of stress. I would agree with that assessment.

I ended this week's journey without a pound loss, but at least a pound gained in life's lessons and healing. Remember, my Journey to 40 and Fabulous is not just about losing weight, but about the mind, body and spirit. I realized I have to let go of the past in order to move forward in the future. Happy following and God Bless!