The Big Squeeze

You probably already know I am not a big fan of buffets. Hubby loves them and I go along because in most places I can order something off of the menu. I end up taking half of it home with me anyway.

But there is another angle. Most of you have already read my rant about restaurant booths being too small; well, news flash - in many restaurants the tables are entirely too close together.

I always try to guide our party to a table around the edge of the seating area so when I try to slide my chair out I will be sliding into the aisle, rather than being packed in back-to-back with someone at the table behind me; especially if we are at a buffet-only place.

Then there is another aspect - for me, at least. Hubby is right-handed; I am a lefty. He always wants to seat us where we won't be "bumping elbows", even though, in the 10 years or so I've been eating with him, I can't remember us ever bumping elbows. If we are eating at a buffet place and land in a booth, if anyone is dining with us I always get shoved to the "wall" side of the booth, then have to try to scrunch up as much as possible to fit my purse on the seat beside me and leave room for Hubby to sit since he makes many trips to the buffet - and I can't exactly say this makes for a relaxing experience.

We have a few restaurants in our town that have non-crowded seating, places where I actually "fit" and I can have a nice relaxing meal. Needless to say, I tip better in the places where I am more comfortable.

So I will say, IF you are one of the folks I have (through no fault of my own) been placed back-to-back with in a restaurant, and I have bumped your chair trying to get in or out of my seat, I am truly sorry. Now, come complain to the management with me!

Not Much for a Big Woman

11 or 12 years ago, Hubby and I were on our first date. We had gone to a Chinese buffet because he loves (I have since found out) buffets.

We both went and got a plate of food. I slowly ate and we talked and he went and got a second plate of food.

He finished that second plate and headed out for the third plate full. I meandered over toward the dessert section and got a couple coconut macaroons and a small dish of soft serve chocolate ice cream.

I was slowly eating my dessert and he finished his 3rd plate then went to the desserts himself. I finished my cookies and ice cream and pushed my plate back.

"You can go get more - you can eat as much as you want" he informed me.

"Yes, I know. I'm full"

He looked amazed. "Really?? You're kidding! You don't eat much for a big woman!"

There it was. I sat in stunned silence - there was about 75 pounds less of me than there is now days - and I wasn't quite sure how to respond.

I was fully aware of his plane crash and the resulting injuries, and I was aware of the personality changes that can result. But then, I hadn't known him before the crash so I had no yardstick with which to measure.

So I sat back and thought this through before answering. Do I reach across the table and smack him them run out? Or say something snide?

Well, I am (even then) a Big Woman so I decided I would just own it. After all - he was being honest and if there was one big thing missing from my past relationships, honesty would have to lead the list.

"Yeah, I guess maybe I don't eat much for a big woman. Just imagine how big I would be if I ate a lot!" Then I laughed and he laughed too.

I have never regretted the decision to handle it that way - he's a great guy.

But past experience had demonstrated to me I don't eat much. I can gain weight on 1200 calories a day - I know, I've tried. 1000 calories and I will just maintain.

Increase my activity? At that time I was a nurse in a very busy clinic - on my feet walking 8 - 9 hours a day.

SO I'm a big woman. I will be the first to admit it.

Will ever weigh 120 again? I doubt it. In my early-mid 20's I got down to 120 and kept it off for a few years. I ate breakfast then drank coffee for the rest of the day. I went those years never having a candy bar or ice cream. Is life really worth living if you can't have a Snickers or a Turtle sundae? Not really, to me at least.

One day I decided I was hungry so I started eating. oh, glorious FOOD! Baked potatoes, Snickers bars, M&M's, Hershey's with almonds, Hot Fudge Brownie Delights from DQ (back in the days when I fit in their booths!) and all of the other goodies I had missed.

Even when I started "eating" again, I didn't overdo it - I just don't want much food at a time. I refuse to be guilty about leaving food on my plate if someone else has served it to me. In a restaurant I will often order 1/2 of my meal put into a to go container before it even makes it to the table.

Yes, my thyroid has been checked. All is normal.

I just don't eat much for a big woman. Get over it.

Is it KIDDING???

I had been thinking I really needed - in the worst way - to be healthier.

This was somewhat influenced by my recent trip to AZ to visit Sis. With the new direct flights between Springfield and Phoenix-Mesa, we are now only 2 hours apart.

That's great but with the recent controversies about obese passengers on planes I was a bit apprehensive. So I searched the subject and found.... Not much specific info. Well, except for the fact there is a certain percentage of the population who doesn't think obese passengers should fly at all.

They should, at this time, adjourn to the celery stick bar and not bother to read the rest of this.

All I could find was this: If you weigh over 250 pounds and cannot fit into a seat - using a seat belt extender - and/or cannot put both armrests down, you should buy 2 seats. It seems, if there is room on the flight, most airlines will seat you in a double seat for no additional charge, and some - again, according to space available - will refund the price of the second seat.

I could find no specifics about the airline we were using (Allegiant) so I just prayed it would be okay.

At 290 pounds, I was a tad skeptical. After all, the last several times I had flown I had been able to just get the seat belt around me with no extender so here I go.....

The outbound flight we were assigned seats on the side of the plane where there were 2 seats. I got my belt snapped without an extender - and I put down the armrest with no problems.

Coming home, I was really worried... After all, not only had I eaten a Thanksgiving dinner, but also ate more than I usually did overall. (But, oh! Was it good!!) But again, I fit into the seat belt. Phew!!!

With the exception of the seats not reclining on either flight it was a great. But then, those airplane seats don't really recline anyway so that minor detail was no loss.

However.... Before we left I had ordered a scale that analyzes body fat percentage and hydration levels along with weight. It was waiting at the post office when we returned.

So I unpacked it, put in batteries, read the instructions and tried it out.

Bear in mind... The last time I had stepped on one of these I was working as a temp in the office of a bariatric doctor and at that time I weighed around 200 pounds and according to their scale I was 58% body fat. So this time I was expecting a reading of 80 or 90%. Maybe even more.

I got my weight - 289 pounds, then "Err3". Hmmm...... I looked up "Err3" and it said my "body fat percentage was outside readable levels". It didn't give me a hydration level. Back to the book. After all, I had to be something less than 100%, right?? (Yeah, I know - but not by much - LOL!!)

As I was scouring the book looking for the problem Hubby came through the kitchen and his eyes lit on a new gadget.

"Here," I said "take off your shoes and try this."

"Do I HAVE to take off my shoes?" Now, before you all accuse me of husband abuse - he was wearing house slippers...

"Yes, you have to take off your shoes and socks and stand on here barefoot or it can't do a reading".

After just a bit of whining he took off shoes and socks and (after I played with the settings) stepped on the scale.172.4 pounds, 78% body fat, 48% water.

So, okay. This told me the scale does, indeed, work.

Here I was, proud of finally working myself up to 2 minutes a day (from 15 seconds!) and I find out my body fat percentage is "above readable levels".

I took hubby's advice. I made us some chocolate malts and we sat and watched TV a while to think it over.

Now my goal is to get to the point where my body fat is down to "readable" levels. Then I'll work on the rest of it.

Good (EARLY!) Morning!

I got up at 3 am because I woke up about 2 am and couldn't get back to sleep. Partly because I am hurting and partly because my heart rate decided to hang out around 190 and I could hear the "thump-thump-thump-thump" in my ears no matter which way I turned so I knew I would have to get up and sit a while to distract myself from it.

This morning I go to Springfield for a pacemaker check - this is the yearly one where they download it and check buttery level and such. This particular visit adds further to my frustration with the whole situation. I only have the pacemaker check this time - the doctor visit has now been pushed to April. I remember the frustrating months leading up to my diagnosis, thinking that when I had a diagnosis I could be treated and resume my life. I was wrong.

We will make our trip to Springfield this morning, probably eat lunch somewhere down there then come home and collapse and watch TV.

In our shape, we love satellite TV and DVR's.

But I'd still love to see a magic pill.

Oh, What a Bargain!

Hubby was out and about a couple days ago and he came home with great news - he had found an elliptical exercise machine at a yard sale - the tag on it said "make offer" but he figured it would still be more than we could afford so he started to walk away when the lady yelled, "How about $5?" So, of course, he returned with a larger vehicle and we brought it home.

The thing weighs - according to the online info he found - 125 pounds. So it was a bit of a struggle getting it in and out of the car, but once we did the little wheels on the front were great! We managed to wrestle the thing to the kitchen.

In the meantime, Hector the cat escaped to the Great Outdoors.

We discovered it an elliptical trainer takes up roughly the same floor footprint as a kitchen island. (I threw in that tidbit just in case you are considering installing one of these in your kitchen)

So Hubby stepped on it and did... 20 seconds! Whew! What a workout! I lasted 10.

By later that afternoon, Hubby had found an online owner's manual to our new Weslo 710 Elliptical Trainer - we now could use the pulse counting feature on this machine... Which really did not do me much good since I apparently couldn't stay ON the machine long enough for the pulse counter to kick in.

So Monday morning, as my coffee was brewing I again stepped on the machine with a goal in mind. 20 seconds... I managed to do 15. But it was long enough to watch my pulse track - I went from 64 resting to 147 to 192.

Okay - I expected this, after all, I have Sick Sinus Syndrome. No, it doesn't mean my nose is stopped up.

The Sino-Atrial node is a bundle of nerves in the middle of your heart - the "coordination center" if you will... Kind of like a 4-way traffic light. It tells each chamber of your heart when to beat to keep things in rhythm. Mine does not work properly - in other words, I have "electrical problems".

I know from several multi-day heart monitors my heart rate frequently runs up into the 190's several times a day without the activity of the shiny new elliptical trainer.
Just think, a lot of people pay money for someone to help them exercise to raise their heart rate. I can do it just sitting and reading.

But I know I still need the physical activity - and this morning? I did a whole minute on the elliptical!

Oh - we turned the machine around where we can now watch the living room TV while exercising.

Maybe having an elliptical in the kitchen will become a style - is there a better way to remind us to watch what we eat?

BTW - the 2 pounds I put back on this week? I'm certain it is newly-gained muscle weight from all the exercise!

Size Matters

The neighbor came knocking on the door a few days ago. He needed me to take digital photos of a booth he was building for a local pizza place.

I took the photos then he asked "Would you sit there and eat pizza?"

"No".... Then I tried to fit into the booth - it was a tight squeeze. "I'm not the largest person around."

Somehow, in his calculations, he had forgotten that not everyone is the same size he is. Fortunately, he had constructed the booth in such a way it was easily dismantled and adjusted.

I just spent most of a week traveling with my sisters, we stayed at 3 different motels, 3 different chains. Only the last one, Super 8, had chairs that comfortably fit me.

Even doctor's offices have a lack of seating that will comfortable fit a plus-size person. I'm well aware the decorators that purchase the furniture are not connected to the doctors, but they need to be more aware of this issue.

Okay, I realize that earlier in this blog I went off on Dairy Queen.... Now I'm picking on motels and doctors offices. But the problem is everywhere.

Maybe we need a "Be Kind To The Fluffy" week to raise awareness?

Decoration Day

That's what I grew up hearing - "Decoration Day". I asked Daddy what Memorial Day was and he explained it was what people called Decoration Day.

Decoration Day was the day the cemeteries should all be mowed, trimmed, old flowers cleaned off of the graves and replaced with new ones.

It is - Springtime in the cemetery. Time for renewal (which might sound silly to some) and a general "spruce up" of the burial grounds.

I know, it started out as a day to decorate the graves of Confederate veterans - and now as "Memorial Day" it is considered a day to honor all veterans. But I'm a bit Southern; and as a Southern woman, I reserve the right to fuss over cemeteries.

Some may ask why anyone would bother with cemetery maintenance.

We humans have an innate need to connect to our past - to know where we came from. Perhaps to give us a more grounded feel for where we are going.

Some may think me morbid, but others, I know, will understand what I am saying.

Many years ago, in the early 1980's, I went for a walk every evening. My first husband and I lived in Memphis, TN and I followed a street back to a long-deserted cul de sac and followed the broken sidewalk around the loop back home. I began to smell gas on my walk so I called the appropriate city office to report it. The next day the road was closed - a major gas leak was found and during the excavation an old cemetery was also re-discovered.

It makes you stop and think. Did the people there have no descendants? How, exactly, is one "lost" to time?

I know, people move and don't bother (or maybe they are/were unable) to write back to loved ones and tell of their whereabouts. Many things happen in this world that separate loved ones. I've been known to drop off of the face of the Earth myself.

The cemetery at our church has 2 "mystery" graves - one headstone simply says "Little Girl", the other says "The Stranger"...

They were both unknown to us until last year when a lady in the community died and her husband ordered a double headstone for them, and smaller ones for Little Girl and Stranger.

It seems that back in the 1880's a wagon train was moving through this area and the people were sick - one little girl died and she was buried in our church cemetery. Her name has been lost to time and once in a while I search out and read historical notes - hoping to perhaps read an account from this wagon train and maybe find out a name for this little girl. I know that her momma and daddy undoubtedly mourned her passing - for as long as they lived. In their honor, and in honor of the sacrifices these early pioneers made to explore and open this great country we live in, we keep her grave neat and this year we planted some daffodils on her grave.

The Stranger has a different story. In the 1920's, here in Dallas County, MO, there were several "squatters' shacks" in the area. Stranger was found dead in one of these shacks - searches of the man and his shack turned up absolutely nothing in the way of identification. He was wrapped in a sheet and laid to rest next to Little Girl. This spring, we also planted daffodils on his grave.

I'm positive that somewhere Stranger also had family - maybe he was a husband and father who came to this area to make enough money to send for his family. Perhaps he was a brother of a family who came here looking for a way to help his parents and siblings.

We will probably never know. But they were living, breathing people whoever they were. Lost souls? Maybe. But they are being remembered. Their final resting places are now marked and we can only hope future generations will do the same.

I know I do my best to make sure others are aware of the stories, such as they are, will be handed down.