This is long: it's 11 years of my life. You've been warned.
I just got on the scales, it's midday so I'm not at my lowest weight, and they say 198.2. For the last week I have gotten on them at all times of the day and night, because I am doing the weight loss version of pinching myself to make sure I'm awake and this is not a dream. I'm finally ready to write this. Hope I do a good job. You see, I haven't seen the number 200 on the scale for a week. Not at any time, day or night. Writing that brings tears to my eyes.
On May 5, 1997 I started Atkins. I say I started Atkins because the 1995 book was my guide, even though I ate much less than Dr. Atkins recommends. I had a medical reason to do so -- I weighed 337 pounds, was a Type II diabetic with blood sugar levels that had ranged between 300 and 400 for over a year. I was maxed out on diabetes meds, my physician was unwilling to prescribe insulin because blood work showed I had an excess of insulin. I was also taking drugs for acid reflux, blood pressure and a host of other problems.
My world was reduced to my home, the internet and the 2 hours of pure agony I spent cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. My ankles felt as if there was a fire burning in them after standing for 30 minutes -- between weight and arthritis I was bleeding into my ankles every day. My house looked like a tornado had come through because I had no energy to clean, and the pain was incredible. That was with pain pills.
I spent the first week doing Atkins in the hospital because my organs were dying. Liver, kidneys, heart -- nothing worked right and the kidneys barely worked at all. My doctor told me bluntly he expected a heart attack or stroke any day. My skin was gray where it wasn't beet red. During that week I ate 600 cals per day of meat and fat. I walked a mile every day in the corridors. An orderly walked with me -- they were afraid to let me walk and afraid to not let me walk. Personal attention is an advantage of being in a tiny hospital where you are the only patient.
I didn't lose an ounce.
I was sent home from the hospital when my kidneys started to function again. I continued eating 600 cals a day of meat and fat, and to tell the truth I wasn't hungry even for that. There was the first miracle -- I wasn't hungry. To my doctor it was the kidneys functioning, but I'd been so hungry for so many years that *lack of hunger* was the miracle to me. By blood sugar level was about 250 when I was released.
Another week went by of walking a mile and eating 600 cals. I didn't lose an ounce but I was no longer gray and red. My doctor said nothing about the weight, just rejoiced that I was eating no carbs, and making myself eat food I didn't want because he had scared me into eating something. The third week went by and I got on the scales. I had dropped 17 pounds. I remember calling the doctor's office, shrieking the news to his nurse. He called me back and I think he was crying on the phone. He had really thought I was going to die. He upped the food to 800 cals, meat and fat and I could eat 50 cals of an induction veggie every day.
Do you know how good broccoli tastes?
Months of eating 800 cals a day went by, visits to the doctor and dietician every 2 weeks. My appetite came back, not like it was before, but I started to enjoy eating. Weight dropped off. We upped the calories to 1200, I could eat 20g of carbs a day, and the weight continued to drop off. A year later I weighed 220 pounds and took no medications, not even Advil.
My world expanded. I bought a mountain bike and began riding. I got a puppy to walk and train and play with. I began to visit with my neighbors. I joined a gym and began swimming. I cut my hair, got a facial and a manicure. I bought clothes -- size 22W. I had started at a tight 34W. I bought new shoes because the old ones were too short and too wide -- 81/2D instead of 71/2EEEE. I got fitted for a bra for the first time in my life -- 42DDD. My house was clean. I took a trip to the ocean.
I began to notice that my husband tore me down continually, and had since we'd been married. I decided I needed to go back to work, but even though I had a PhD in chemistry I positively hated the work. So I started taking computer science classes and switched fields.
My doctor and I talked about goal weights. My weight loss had slowed to a creep and stopped. His advice: don't worry it will pick up again. Let me tell you, he was wrong. Lots of testing found nothing wrong. It will pick up again as soon as your body settles down. Wrong.
I decided that if I couldn't lose then I could maintain. I felt so much better that this seemed like a victory. So I maintained at 217.
I divorced my husband and left an emtpy, sexless and destructive marriage behind. I left all but $20K and my dog and cat behind in order to get him to let me go *right now*. He still complains that I cleaned him out when I left him a paid for house and all the investments and 3/4 of the savings.
It was worth it.
I got a part-time job paying minimum wage doing computer science work and rented a 2 room shack outside the town housing the college I was attending. In 6 months I was running the research group I'd been hired to work in. In 4 more months I was running the research center. I weighed 217 pounds, but I was eating a lot more LC food. I moved from the 2 room shack to a 4 room shack and bought a car with cash I had saved. I dated men. I had sex again.
I bought a house, *my* house, belonging only to me and my dog and my cat. A magnificent old belle of a house that I redid. I quit men and empty sex -- they sell appliances for that you know. I spent time with friends, and worked, and enjoyed my fur family and my yard and my garden. Nothing had ever been *mine* before.
Five years after I started my journey I began to long for something else. A real relationship. I lived in the middle of nowhere so I joined an online dating site. Met a lot of men, one in particular who was recently divorced after being married 24 years and had only gone out on one date since the divorce. We started to date. He lived 90 miles away but life is short.
I was in his town giving a talk on computer stuff to business men and after the talk was over a man asked to speak with me. Five minutes later he offered me a job as a VP. A week later I signed a contract and was working in a brand new field 2 weeks after that -- developing start up and turnaround technology businesses. I moved in with my man and was deliriously happy, so happy I quit tending to the scale. We got married. One day I got on the scale and it said 240. I nearly died. I drove 90 miles to see my doctor, he set a final goal weight of 180. I said 165. We compromised on 199 as an intermediate goal, at which time we'd set a final goal.
I did Atkins by the book and lost 6 or 7 pounds then nothing. I switched to low cal/high carb and over 6 months lost down to 221 then stopped. I was hungry the whole time. I said to heck with this and switched back to Atkins. I lost nothing. I cut calories, increased calories, did the fat fast, did meat only, increased fat, decreased fat, exercised more, exercised less. After 3 months I said to heck with it and went back to maintenance. I got to 217 by alternately maintaining and trying to lose.
Fall of last year I joined this site at 217. A miracle happened -- I lost weight down to 205 and stopped. I switched to Protein Power LifePlan and dropped to 202 then everything stopped. And it stayed stopped. I saw 201.2 on the scale once. I decided to maintain again.
Last month I decided I really wanted to get to that 180, but I had to first break 200. I haven't weighed less than 200 since 9th grade. I wrote 180 in as my goal weight, up from the 165 I had used. After a business trip I came home, stopped my evening cocktail and got ready to lose.
I started eating clean, PPLP. Nothing changed. The scale looked like it was going down some then bounced up then down then up. It averaged at the same 202.8 it had been in January.
I blew up. I ranted and raved. I posted in TDC and ranted and whined. I finally admitted that not much in life meant more to me that getting below 200. In my head was that 199 that my doctor and I talked about 5 years ago. I had worked so damned hard. I was so angry and upset. Everyone showed up on the thread, everyone who knew what it was to need to lose a lot of weight, everyone who knew what it was to need to lose even a little weight and fight and feel defeat. Suggestions poured in. Sympathy poured in. Understanding of frustration. After 5 years I suddenly wasn't alone trying to tear through a wall that would not give way. People offered everything and anything the could find to offer, even if that was just "I hear you and I understand how you must feel." They thought that was "just" a tiny little thing. No, it was huge.
So after ranting and whining and reading "I am often the most frustrated before a breakthrough" -- something I thought was pretty ludicrous --I got on the scales 2 days later and saw 199.6. My first thought was not "Oh My God," it was Janine writing "I am often the most frustrated before a breakthrough." The next day it said 198.8. Then it said 197.0.
We tore down the wall. *We* did it. I do not believe that I would have done it without all of you saying what you said, pulling me out of a dark hole, having faith, offering help and being there.
Thanks, friends. We did it. And we are not stopping here.
Tearing Down the Wall
this is so beautiful Liz...thanks for sharing. 
180 here you come!!
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