All in the Family

Ahhhh family. Gotta love 'em. Or not. That is entirely your call. I love my family and friends very much, extended or otherwise. They helped us out quite a bit as young parents on the line of living in poverty. They gave us food and shelter and were always there when we needed them. Of course we have been there for them as well. That is how all great relationships last. Give and take in equal amounts with a whole lot of love mixed in.
Read More...

Our families have seen my wife and I start this weight loss tug 'o war so many times, I am sure they have lost track. Hell! We have lost track of all our starts and stops. We knew this time around we might meet some skepticism, especially with our kids. Our kids are so sick of hearing us bitch and complain about our weight and how we are gonna start tomorrow, that the minute we start to talk about it, they leave the room. After the crap that they went through as little kids, I really don't blame them.

You see, like most addicts, I made lots of promises to my kids that I would promptly break because I was just to fat or lazy to follow through. It is amazing how much your levels of procrastination rise as your waistband expands. Man! In True Jabba like fashion, sitting on the couch in my underwear with loads of junk food scattered about was the order of the weekend. The remote firmly gripped by the hand that did not have some sort of Hostess product in it, surfing the channels all day. My stomach acting as a table and my wife beater it's stained and tattered table cloth. This is not a pretty image. I know this because my kids took a picture of me in that very state once. When I saw it, I destroyed it and went back to my sloth. I found safety in those moments because I did not have to commit to anything. If I didn't commit, then I could not fail. Right? Isn't that the way it works?

What I didn't realize was how much of a failure I had become at teaching my children about living a healthy and active life style. Teaching them the value of taking care of your things and cleaning up after yourself. Our house was constantly a mess. Dishes rotting in the sink, the lawn over grown. Our kitchen table became the laundry table and we ate meals in front of the TV on the couch. Why did we need a table anyway? Sure every once in a while it would get bad enough to motivate my wife and I to take care of things. We would joke about Child Protective Services taking our kids away from us if we didn't clean things up (very bad joke, I know). We weren't "Hoarders" bad! Not by a long shot. But it was still not the kind of example to set for our kids.

So this time around, when we decided it was time to "Get busy living" we knew that we would have to tell our family that we were very serious and we needed them to help us out. This is the difference from all the other times. Those times we never sat them down and told them what kind of support we needed. We just tried to quietly go about our lives and then when the first family gathering came around, rather than talk about it we would just give in and eat what was there so we didn't hurt peoples feelings. Wrong thing to do.

We sat the kids down and laid out our plan. Our kids are adults now, and they could tell that we were serious enough to not walk out of the room this time. They agreed to help monitor us and call us on things when we needed it. We knew they would be on board. Getting my wife's family on board was going to be tough.

She comes from a very mid-western-white trash-rough and tumble family tree. Hard drinkin' and chain smokin' but all really great people. They don't get the process of overcoming an addiction. They don't understand why you need therapy to discover and fight your demons. What the hell is wrong with having a few belts here or there? You got a problem, just suck it up and move on. No whining! Her mother recently got sober and the family still drinks around her! They are definitely tough nuts to crack. So telling them we won't be by for Thanksgiving is gonna be hard. I guess we will cross that bridge when we get to it.

The other person I am going to have a hard time telling is my step-dad. Those of you who have read my past blogs know that this is the man that helped me develop my taste for rich and expensive foods. Not only did we go out to eat, but he himself in an accomplished kitchen commando. This mans lasagna is so good it will bring you to tears.

When I was about 13, he made a pan for my birthday. This is by far my favorite meal on the planet. I am talking death row, last meal good. We had all my favorites actually! Garlic bread smothered in butter, anti-pasto, mashed potatoes, my Mother's Cream Cheese Pie topped with Cherries for dessert and of course the heart stopping lasagna.

Everybody was served and I couldn't even wait for it to cool down. I proceeded to shovel bite after bite in my mouth, barely taking the time to taste what I was eating or caring that the flesh on the roof of my mouth was singed and painful. Piece one down! Piece two down! Piece three down! Well, that last one is not completely accurate. I did get it down, but in a flash found myself running to the bathroom and promptly throwing it all up. You want to know the saddest part? I went and sat back down at the table and asked for another piece. I got demons I tell ya! Demons.

So while choking back the tears at the prospect of not having that lasagna for a long while, I told my dad that I couldn't eat like that any more. No more prime rib at Christmas. No more lasagna or meatball sandwiches. No more of mom's famous cinnamon rolls. No more trips to Cattleman's Steak House for the bottomless bread sticks and Ceasar Salad. No more feeding my face until I puked. If he invited us to dinner it would have to be on our terms. At least for a while, until we were strong enough to eat those things with sensibility and moderation. He agreed. How could he not? He himself was on a restricted diet due to Type Two Diabetes and the loss of his leg.

In addition to the family we of course had to let our friends in on it as well. They were much like our kids in their "Yeah! Right!" undertones, but they could also see that this time we were more than serious.

I guess the point of this diatribe is that, this time around, we made the effort to involve others in the process. Not to get on our case or get mid-evil on our asses if we fall down from time to time. But to help them understand why we don't go out to eat as much anymore. Why we don't hang at the bar for happy hour. They are also more conscious of what they serve at their backyard hootinanies as well. Some of them have even started to make some of the same changes we have. It seems that by communicating with the ones that matter most, it makes it easier to face the challenges knowing your they are behind you.

For those that have family and friends that don't share your enthusiasm for the journey, you are truly in a tough spot and I feel for you. Hopefully they can at least respect the boundaries you have set for yourself and not try to derail your efforts on purpose. You always have the site and all of us to get you through the tough times. That is for sure.