I knew when I got up to over 200 pounds I had to do something but I had no clue where or how to start. Ken was overseas at the time and the kids and I were staying with my folks. I went up to bed one night and my dad had put a little note on my pillow - "Tomorrow we go buy you some clothes - at Sioux Falls Tent and Awning." Ouch. I was so mad at him! The next morning at breakfast I was still giving him the silent treatment. He looked over his coffee cup at me and said, "Sorry if I hurt your feelings, but nothing else has sunk in. You don't have anything but tomorrows, and you have a husband and 3 little kids depending on you for every tomorrow you can give them. Now, what the he11 are you going to do and how can we help?" I have never been a sweet eater - I'm one of those rare people who doesn't like dessert, candy bars, or even chocolate, unless it's chocolate pudding or hot chocolate. Those are the only two chocolate things I like. I've said before, my idea of a bedtime snack is a pork chop!
At home we had a rule - you stayed at the table until everyone was done eating, then whichever ones of us were assigned after-dinner cleanup got busy. He hated it when someone was still eating and the table was being cleared around them, therefore we all sat and talked until the last fork got put down. It didn't matter that I was a grown woman with a family of my own - it was a rule inviolate. So while others were still eating, I was picking....picking another "tiny" bit of potatoes, or meatloaf, or whatever. The first change was that as soon as my single, smaller helping of dinner was gone I was allowed to leave the table - as long as I was going for a walk. The first evening I didn't get very far - maybe half a block and back! The second change was while I was helping - or totally preparing if Ma was at work - dinner. I'd eat an apple and have a glass of water while I cooked. By the time my brother or sisters had the table set and everyone was gathered, I wasn't as hungry. As the weight started coming off, very fast at first, I got into the whole process so much better. My half block walk became the whole block, then two blocks, and so on. I figured out that eating a salad was a total cop-out. All salad was to me was a plate to cover with salty, fatty salad dressing...usually more dressing than salad. I also figured out that buttering a slice of bread and browning it in the drippings from whatever meat I'd cooked was probably not a good idea either.
To give my folks credit, after that first note and conversation with my dad, they never said another word. They didn't criticize if I messed up, but they didn't lather on praise either. Dad used to say that praising someone for simply doing what had to be done was empty praise - that praise, like respect, had to be earned. That doesn't mean they didn't encourage, they just didn't gush over it. By the time Ken got home I'd lost over 20 pounds. I knew I still had a ways to go, but I would exercise along with Jack LaLane on the old black and white TV (Boy, does that age me!) take the kids to the park and actually run and play with them instead of sitting on a bench with a book, and still took my walks every evening. The bad habits were broken, and new habits had taken their places. I actually had to go to thrift stores periodically and get clothes to replace those that didn't fit anymore!
One night, about 4 days before Ken was due to come home, I went up to bed and found another note from Dad. "Tomorrow we go buy you a nice outfit to wear for Ken's homecoming. How does Fantle's sound?" Fantles' was a huge department store downtown - Holy Toledo it had elevators AND a mezzanine and everything! He bought me a lovely soft gray blazer, black dressy trousers, and a bright blue satiny feeling blouse - with ruffles! I felt so beautiful. Driving home that evening he looked over at me and said, "You probably don't even realize that you're smiling again."
Thanks for the tomorrows, Dad.
