I finally released 30 pounds that kept coming and going despite decades of dieting.
How? The secret was self-love! I was born in rural Pennsylvania surrounded by beauty that I have only recently come to appreciate.
Our family of five lived in a modest home that my father built and we largely relied on our garden to sustain us.
We ate fresh, organic vegetables in the summer and, during the winter months, we relied on food sealed in Mason jars or frozen in Tupperware containers--the food was just as wholesome and tasty as the fresh stuff.
As the years went by, we continued to eat from the land but, like so many families, succumbed to the convenience of processed foods.
I remember going to Carrols, a precursor to Burger King, to sample their hamburgers, shakes and fries.
I recall going to Dunkin' Donuts to eat mini pocket sandwiches (with a donut on the side for good measure, of course!).
And so it began for me and my generation--the easy, peazy world of fast food.
As a kid, I hadn't given a whole lot of thought to what I was consuming; however, as I entered my teen years, I became increasingly obsessed with my weight.
I had a horrible body image.
Why was I flabbier than the other girls? Why was my face so puffy? My solution was to deny myself food and to exercise frequently.
Of course, exercise is hard when you haven't fueled your body enough, but what did I know? I just wanted to be skinny...
and tan, oh so tan...
but that's a story for another time.
Over the years, I tried all sorts of diets and exercise programs.
There was Fit for Life, Stop the Insanity, Nutri-System, Weight Watchers, Medifast.
You name it, I probably read about it or experimented with it.
Yet I lost and gained the same 30 pounds time and time again.
What was holding me back from being at a normal, stable weight? When I look back, I think there were numerous reasons, but one really stands out: I had never learned to truly love, trust and respect myself.
Luckily, that has all changed--and rather recently.
A couple of years ago, the Universe whacked me upside the head with yet another bout of depression.
I'm not sure why all of the other depressive episodes failed to wake me up, but this one took! I guess I was finally ready to learn the lesson that had been sent to me many times before; that I needed to heal from self-inflicted wounds and stop denying myself the love, joy and nurturing that all of us deserve.
I began to walk, to write, to read, to paint, to relax.
Sometimes I just listened to the birds.
Donning hot pink toenail polish, I floated around our backyard pool on a matching hot pink raft while staring skyward.
I began to reconnect with my core.
She was always there.
I had just forgotten who she was.
When I learned to feed my soul, I regained the love, trust and respect that I had pushed aside while managing everyone else's expectations for far too long.
I began to cook--something I had rarely done before.
I found that the kind of whole, fresh garden-variety foods that I grew up eating nourished me far better than anything I could get from a drive-through.
I drank more water, and experimented with teas, beans and grains; I developed a love for kale.
When a friend at church observed that the light had returned to my eyes and that my skin glowed, I knew that I had turned a corner.
After all these years, I had finally figured out that all I ever really needed for true nourishment was self-love.
Duh.
I am now at a healthy, stable weight.
I plan to keep it that way.
How? The secret was self-love! I was born in rural Pennsylvania surrounded by beauty that I have only recently come to appreciate.
Our family of five lived in a modest home that my father built and we largely relied on our garden to sustain us.
We ate fresh, organic vegetables in the summer and, during the winter months, we relied on food sealed in Mason jars or frozen in Tupperware containers--the food was just as wholesome and tasty as the fresh stuff.
As the years went by, we continued to eat from the land but, like so many families, succumbed to the convenience of processed foods.
I remember going to Carrols, a precursor to Burger King, to sample their hamburgers, shakes and fries.
I recall going to Dunkin' Donuts to eat mini pocket sandwiches (with a donut on the side for good measure, of course!).
And so it began for me and my generation--the easy, peazy world of fast food.
As a kid, I hadn't given a whole lot of thought to what I was consuming; however, as I entered my teen years, I became increasingly obsessed with my weight.
I had a horrible body image.
Why was I flabbier than the other girls? Why was my face so puffy? My solution was to deny myself food and to exercise frequently.
Of course, exercise is hard when you haven't fueled your body enough, but what did I know? I just wanted to be skinny...
and tan, oh so tan...
but that's a story for another time.
Over the years, I tried all sorts of diets and exercise programs.
There was Fit for Life, Stop the Insanity, Nutri-System, Weight Watchers, Medifast.
You name it, I probably read about it or experimented with it.
Yet I lost and gained the same 30 pounds time and time again.
What was holding me back from being at a normal, stable weight? When I look back, I think there were numerous reasons, but one really stands out: I had never learned to truly love, trust and respect myself.
Luckily, that has all changed--and rather recently.
A couple of years ago, the Universe whacked me upside the head with yet another bout of depression.
I'm not sure why all of the other depressive episodes failed to wake me up, but this one took! I guess I was finally ready to learn the lesson that had been sent to me many times before; that I needed to heal from self-inflicted wounds and stop denying myself the love, joy and nurturing that all of us deserve.
I began to walk, to write, to read, to paint, to relax.
Sometimes I just listened to the birds.
Donning hot pink toenail polish, I floated around our backyard pool on a matching hot pink raft while staring skyward.
I began to reconnect with my core.
She was always there.
I had just forgotten who she was.
When I learned to feed my soul, I regained the love, trust and respect that I had pushed aside while managing everyone else's expectations for far too long.
I began to cook--something I had rarely done before.
I found that the kind of whole, fresh garden-variety foods that I grew up eating nourished me far better than anything I could get from a drive-through.
I drank more water, and experimented with teas, beans and grains; I developed a love for kale.
When a friend at church observed that the light had returned to my eyes and that my skin glowed, I knew that I had turned a corner.
After all these years, I had finally figured out that all I ever really needed for true nourishment was self-love.
Duh.
I am now at a healthy, stable weight.
I plan to keep it that way.
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