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fatty fatty boom boom

dianeseattle

dianeseattle

Member
This will be published in November, but it's getting great reviews:

www.workman.com

Hachette Book Group

Hachette Book Group is a leading book publisher based in New York and a division of Hachette Livre, the third-largest publisher in the world.
www.workman.com www.workman.com
5410


“A delicious and mouthwatering book about food and family, the complicated love for both, and how that shapes us into who we are . . . I absolutely loved it!”
—Valerie Bertinelli

I vividly remember all the snide comments people made about Valerie Bertinelli from the time she was a cute little girl in a sitcom through her public appearances with Eddie Van Halen. And of course, she had a cooking show which didn't exactly feature low-calorie, low-fat and -carb dishes. But I'd like to peek behind the curtain and learn more. It's got to be illuminating, especially since she had her son Wolfgang be her taster and you could watch his figure getting thicker and him apparently making his life of homemade food a big attraction for his friends.

But she didn't write this book--just the blurb--so I don't know exactly what it's about. It does seem to recommend body-image-acceptance, but I hope that is couple with body health, because its one thing to be comfortable in your body, and quite another to fight against making obesity and overeating okay. We are raised weird by family and corporations who push food down our throats while designing ads claiming their products to be good for us, really, only in comparison to eating a stick of butter for breakfast and swinging by 7-11 for a Big Gulp every day.

IMHO, no one would buy a book about healthy eating unless it were written by a celebrity. With few exceptions, the celebrities who have cooking shows could really lose a few pounds or incorporate an exercise segment into their 30 minutes. But I'm not going to argue the point. Each of us is here for a reason, and not because we eat healthy, balanced diets and get regular movement and exercise.+I used to have five sisters and two brothers. Now one brother is dead from diabetes and multi-system organ damage/failure, and one sister is dead from gross obesity, having her last dozen years spent having one toe nipped off, then another, until her legs were amputated up to her knees. She also had diabetes and congestive heart disease.

The price of loving a food addict carries the same weight as loving a drug addict. But the food addict gets to come to family potlucks.

Nuff said.
 
dianeseattle said:
This will be published in November, but it's getting great reviews:

www.workman.com

Hachette Book Group

Hachette Book Group is a leading book publisher based in New York and a division of Hachette Livre, the third-largest publisher in the world.
www.workman.com www.workman.com
View attachment 5410

“A delicious and mouthwatering book about food and family, the complicated love for both, and how that shapes us into who we are . . . I absolutely loved it!”
—Valerie Bertinelli

I vividly remember all the snide comments people made about Valerie Bertinelli from the time she was a cute little girl in a sitcom through her public appearances with Eddie Van Halen. And of course, she had a cooking show which didn't exactly feature low-calorie, low-fat and -carb dishes. But I'd like to peek behind the curtain and learn more. It's got to be illuminating, especially since she had her son Wolfgang be her taster and you could watch his figure getting thicker and him apparently making his life of homemade food a big attraction for his friends.

But she didn't write this book--just the blurb--so I don't know exactly what it's about. It does seem to recommend body-image-acceptance, but I hope that is couple with body health, because its one thing to be comfortable in your body, and quite another to fight against making obesity and overeating okay. We are raised weird by family and corporations who push food down our throats while designing ads claiming their products to be good for us, really, only in comparison to eating a stick of butter for breakfast and swinging by 7-11 for a Big Gulp every day.

IMHO, no one would buy a book about healthy eating unless it were written by a celebrity. With few exceptions, the celebrities who have cooking shows could really lose a few pounds or incorporate an exercise segment into their 30 minutes. But I'm not going to argue the point. Each of us is here for a reason, and not because we eat healthy, balanced diets and get regular movement and exercise.+I used to have five sisters and two brothers. Now one brother is dead from diabetes and multi-system organ damage/failure, and one sister is dead from gross obesity, having her last dozen years spent having one toe nipped off, then another, until her legs were amputated up to her knees. She also had diabetes and congestive heart disease.

The price of loving a food addict carries the same weight as loving a drug addict. But the food addict gets to come to family potlucks.

Nuff said.
Click to expand...
Wow! What a powerful post! I wholeheartedly agree with you! I watch ALL those cooking shows and I am one of the few who go to create channel and watch those healthier shows lol.
I am sorry for the loss of your siblings and your strength to try and change your ways.
Every family function for my Italian family or Sunday dinner started about 3pm and was food galore until the last piece of cake and drop of coffee was gone,, Goodnight said by 11pm. That's a long time at the table...or kids table depending on how old you were. Of course we played Pokémon, or une due winner take all lol (thats not the real name but I don't know it and that's what my grandmother (mama) called it lol.
We had to finish what was on our plate and never insulted anyone who cooked by not tasting.
I'm trying to change that! I now purposefully leave food on my plate! It's not easy! Because we were programmed not to. But I try.
 
Ange6012 said:
Wow! What a powerful post! I wholeheartedly agree with you! I watch ALL those cooking shows and I am one of the few who go to create channel and watch those healthier shows lol.
I am sorry for the loss of your siblings and your strength to try and change your ways.
Every family function for my Italian family or Sunday dinner started about 3pm and was food galore until the last piece of cake and drop of coffee was gone,, Goodnight said by 11pm. That's a long time at the table...or kids table depending on how old you were. Of course we played Pokémon, or une due winner take all lol (thats not the real name but I don't know it and that's what my grandmother (mama) called it lol.
We had to finish what was on our plate and never insulted anyone who cooked by not tasting.
I'm trying to change that! I now purposefully leave food on my plate! It's not easy! Because we were programmed not to. But I try.
Click to expand...
*pokeno
 
I have to admit, that I've thought about "why can't people just accept me like I am" but every time I see pictures of myself with my friends, I feel embarrassed. I havn't been fat all of my life. I was skinny 5'1 and 110 lbs until my son was born when I was 22. I gained 70 pounds during pregnancy. I did return to 115 pounds, and I kept it off chasing my son around.

My job was an accountant/paralegal and my company was always ordering food for meetings. There were always leftovers and I indulged (AFTER I already ate). What is it about food that you can't just stop? I WISH I would have STOPPED. It became, oh, just ONE MORE BITE, that turned into 20 more bites, and here I am.

There was a lot of stress in my life between my job, and my drug addicted son who was threatening suicide because he hated being an addict, but couldn't quit doing drugs. He went to rehab more than once, but went right back to the same friends and the same drugs that got him to rehab in the first place. This went on from the time he was 18 until he finally overdosed at 31, in 2013. I talked to him until I had no air left in my lungs, I did the tough love, I did empathy, but NOTHING I did broke the addiction. He was a functioning addict, meaning he worked two jobs while using heroin. He moved in and out from my home. He said he couldn't live by my rules of going to bed at 10 pm, and staying away from the people he hung around with at rave parties. I lost a lot of sleep during those years. It was a really long nightmare that I would never wish on anyone. It makes you angry, it makes you cry. You want to kill the drug addiction, but not the person. No matter how many times I told him "you are better than this" he chose the heroin. He was bright, had a high IQ, very intelligent, understood things that were way over my head. He was handsome and had a great personality. When we were together we laughed so hard, our sense of humor was the same and we fed off each other, things got funnier and funnier until we couldn't breathe. Call me crazy, but I could never tell when he was using, or when he wasn't. I was looking for large pupils or tracks on his arms, but I didn't see it. I found out later than he was shooting up between his toes or in his neck. The day he passed, I called to invite him to lunch or dinner. He sounded drunk, slurring his words, and said he didn't feel well. I thought he drank too much and had a hangover. Then I went to his apartment and he didn't answer. I thought he must have felt better and gone with his friends somewhere. I felt a knot in my stomach and my hear started pounding so hard that I thought I was having a heart attack. I told my husband "I am not ready to bury my only son". My husband told me that I had a very vivid imagination and he left to go fix his Mom's garage door. After he left, I was sitting on the couch watching "CBS Sunday Morning" and someone started pounding on my front door. I ignored it because I didn't feel like having company. The pounding continued until I opened the door to find two police officers. They asked me to identify myself, then asked me if they could come in. At that moment, I was thinking they must be looking for my son, who wasn't there. I invited them inside and they asked me to sit down. I was thinking that they were going to search my house. Then they told me that my son was found dead in his apartment. I didn't react. I didn't cry. It didn't seem real. I was not processing what they said. They asked me to call his Dad who was on his way to work. I asked him to pull over and told him what happened. The police waited with me until my husband got back home. I still didn't cry. I didn't cry until I went to bed and said "God, please take me now, I can't do this" and I cried myself to sleep. I didn't want to get out of bed, but I had to clean out his apartment. His Dad identified his body and planned the funeral, and I was grateful for that. I didn't want to go to the funeral. I didn't want to see anybody, and I didn't want anybody to see me fall apart in public at my only child's funeral. It happened anyway.

After that, I lost my job because I could no longer concentrate. I started taking antidepressants that made me hungrier. I ate myself into prediabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, sleep apnea, and GERD. I was miserable, but the more miserable I felt, the more I ate.

During this period of mourning, my son's ex girlfriend had my son's three year old child, and she was homeless. She would call and ask if we could watch my grandson so that she could go party with her drug addicted friends. She actually left him with us when he was 8 months old and didn't come back, before my son passed away. I missed a few days of work because I had no one to leave him with, no birth certificate, no proof that I was his grandmother, and I ended up calling Department of Family Services because I didn't know how to contact his Mother. She had no phone, no car, no home, nothing. I should have demanded Legal Guardianship right then, but I didn't want to take a child away from his Mother. As time went on, we picked him up at various flop houses where his Mother was couch surfing. After my son passed away, I did contact an attorney and went to court to get Legal Guardianship. One day we were babysitting my grandson, before we were his guardians, and he passed out in the back seat in his car seat. He just went limp. He stopped breathing. We rushed him to the hospital, and we had no ID for him, no birth certificate, nothing. He had asthma, but we didn't know it. We had no way to contact his Mother. I was afraid we would get arrested for kidnapping. That is why we finally decided to get Legal Guardianship. His Mother had the good sense to know that we could provide a much better life for him than she could, and she was also free to party on. My grandson is now 13, and she never calls him, but we do try to keep in contact by way of her Mother. She is still couch surfing but does have a pickup truck and a phone. She has never tried to talk to us about taking him back. We have always left the door open and told her that if she got a job and a permanent address, we would give him back. She isn't able to do that, yet. Before my grandson, she had two other children that were put into foster homes. We don't hate her, we've never had a bad disagreement with her.

My Grandson is doing well, even though he struggles with ADHD dyslexia, dysgraphia, and dyscalculia. He is making As ad Bs, plays baseball, football, basketball, and is a Boy Scout working toward Eagle Scout. I give all that credit to my husband who never had any children of his own. He is the best parent and has patience. He is an excellent athlete and coaches my Grandson's teams. He was never a Boy Scout, but enjoys learning scouting along with my Grandson.

I decided that it's time to focus on ME, on MY HEALTH, and live long enough to see my Grandson graduate and thrive. Better late than never. I look forward to gaining energy and stamina. I look forward to new clothes that don't look like a tent. I look forward to being able to squat down into a sports car or climb up into a big truck. I look forward to maybe even running.

Sorry for this extremely lengthy read, but I wanted to share my journey, and let others know that it's never too late, no matter what cards you've been dealt in your life. I would encourage you to be the BEST YOU, whatever that is.
 
Last edited:
Ready to Lose Weight said:
I have to admit, that I've thought about "why can't people just accept me like I am" but every time I see pictures of myself with my friends, I feel embarrassed. I havn't been fat all of my life. I was skinny 5'1 and 110 lbs until my son was born when I was 22. I gained 70 pounds during pregnancy. I did return to 115 pounds, and I kept it off chasing my son around.

My job was an accountant/paralegal and my company was always ordering food for meetings. There were always leftovers and I indulged (AFTER I already ate). What is it about food that you can't just stop? I WISH I would have STOPPED. It became, oh, just ONE MORE BITE, that turned into 20 more bites, and here I am.

There was a lot of stress in my life between my job, and my drug addicted son who was threatening suicide because he hated being an addict, but couldn't quit doing drugs. He went to rehab more than once, but went right back to the same friends and the same drugs that got him to rehab in the first place. This went on from the time he was 18 until he finally overdosed at 31, in 2013. I talked to him until I had no air left in my lungs, I did the tough love, I did empathy, but NOTHING I did broke the addiction. He was a functioning addict, meaning he worked two jobs while using heroin. He moved in and out from my home. He said he couldn't live by my rules of going to bed at 10 pm, and staying away from the people he hung around with at rave parties. I lost a lot of sleep during those years. It was a really long nightmare that I would never wish on anyone. It makes you angry, it makes you cry. You want to kill the drug addiction, but not the person. No matter how many times I told him "you are better than this" he chose the heroin. He was bright, had a high IQ, very intelligent, understood things that were way over my head. He was handsome and had a great personality. When we were together we laughed so hard, our sense of humor was the same and we fed off each other, things got funnier and funnier until we couldn't breathe. Call me crazy, but I could never tell when he was using, or when he wasn't. I was looking for large pupils or tracks on his arms, but I didn't see it. I found out later than he was shooting up between his toes or in his neck. The day he passed, I called to invite him to lunch or dinner. He sounded drunk, slurring his words, and said he didn't feel well. I thought he drank too much and had a hangover. Then I went to his apartment and he didn't answer. I thought he must have felt better and gone with his friends somewhere. I felt a knot in my stomach and my hear started pounding so hard that I thought I was having a heart attack. I told my husband "I am not ready to bury my only son". My husband told me that I had a very vivid imagination and he left to go fix his Mom's garage door. After he left, I was sitting on the couch watching "CBS Sunday Morning" and someone started pounding on my front door. I ignored it because I didn't feel like having company. The pounding continued until I opened the door to find two police officers. They asked me to identify myself, then asked me if they could come in. At that moment, I was thinking they must be looking for my son, who wasn't there. I invited them inside and they asked me to sit down. I was thinking that they were going to search my house. Then they told me that my son was found dead in his apartment. I didn't react. I didn't cry. It didn't seem real. I was not processing what they said. They asked me to call his Dad who was on his way to work. I asked him to pull over and told him what happened. The police waited with me until my husband got back home. I still didn't cry. I didn't cry until I went to bed and said "God, please take me now, I can't do this" and I cried myself to sleep. I didn't want to get out of bed, but I had to clean out his apartment. His Dad identified his body and planned the funeral, and I was grateful for that. I didn't want to go to the funeral. I didn't want to see anybody, and I didn't want anybody to see me fall apart in public at my only child's funeral. It happened anyway.

After that, I lost my job because I could no longer concentrate. I started taking antidepressants that made me hungrier. I ate myself into prediabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, sleep apnea, and GERD. I was miserable, but the more miserable I felt, the more I ate.

During this period of mourning, my son's ex girlfriend had my son's three year old child, and she was homeless. She would call and ask if we could watch my grandson so that she could go party with her drug addicted friends. She actually left him with us when he was 8 months old and didn't come back, before my son passed away. I missed a few days of work because I had no one to leave him with, no birth certificate, no proof that I was his grandmother, and I ended up calling Department of Family Services because I didn't know how to contact his Mother. She had no phone, no car, no home, nothing. I should have demanded Legal Guardianship right then, but I didn't want to take a child away from his Mother. As time went on, we picked him up at various flop houses where his Mother was couch surfing. After my son passed away, I did contact an attorney and went to court to get Legal Guardianship. One day we were babysitting my grandson, before we were his guardians, and he passed out in the back seat in his car seat. He just went limp. He stopped breathing. We rushed him to the hospital, and we had no ID for him, no birth certificate, nothing. He had asthma, but we didn't know it. We had no way to contact his Mother. I was afraid we would get arrested for kidnapping. That is why we finally decided to get Legal Guardianship. His Mother had the good sense to know that we could provide a much better life for him than she could, and she was also free to party on. My grandson is now 13, and she never calls him, but we do try to keep in contact by way of her Mother. She is still couch surfing but does have a pickup truck and a phone. She has never tried to talk to us about taking him back. We have always left the door open and told her that if she got a job and a permanent address, we would give him back. She isn't able to do that, yet. Before my grandson, she had two other children that were put into foster homes. We don't hate her, we've never had a bad disagreement with her.

My Grandson is doing well, even though he struggles with ADHD dyslexia, dysgraphia, and dyscalculia. He is making As ad Bs, plays baseball, football, basketball, and is a Boy Scout working toward Eagle Scout. I give all that credit to my husband who never had any children of his own. He is the best parent and has patience. He is an excellent athlete and coaches my Grandson's teams. He was never a Boy Scout, but enjoys learning scouting along with my Grandson.

I decided that it's time to focus on ME, on MY HEALTH, and live long enough to see my Grandson graduate and thrive. Better late than never. I look forward to gaining energy and stamina. I look forward to new clothes that don't look like a tent. I look forward to being able to squat down into a sports car or climb up into a big truck. I look forward to maybe even running.

Sorry for this extremely lengthy read, but I wanted to share my journey, and let others know that it's never too late, no matter what cards you've been dealt in your life. I would encourage you to be the BEST YOU, whatever that is.
Click to expand...
Thank you so much for sharing part of your story in this safe space of supporters. You know, nobody really knows what joys, sorrows, and burdens we carry that lie just below the surface unless we allow others to get a peek. Yet that sometimes is the only way for some of the pain to exit and the healing to begin. You are such an incredible soul, and we are blessed to have you along with us on our live's journeys. ❤❤❤❤
 
The best thing about this group is that it IS a safe place. I've been in lots of groups, from the time they were called "newsgroups" back in the early 80s, and this group has always been a place where people gave something of themselves to others. No one tries to be a star. We all share pain on the same continuum. Share your emotions here, with us, because someone here has lived your story and can reach out to help you. There's a reason it's called a support group.

When you have a negative thought about your opinion, don't ignore it. Argue it. There's a book I've recommended here, and it's listed on my profile: "The Only Diet There Is." Search for it and read how it works. By being proactive with your life's challenges, you can ease or rid yourself of them.

You're really a blank canvas. Paint yourself beautiful, strong and able. You can do it, but you need to fight. The book I mentioned gives you tools. In fact, the best tool is just a few pages in--making a 2-column list of lies and truths.

You are loved here, for real.
 
Ready to Lose Weight said:
I have to admit, that I've thought about "why can't people just accept me like I am" but every time I see pictures of myself with my friends, I feel embarrassed. I havn't been fat all of my life. I was skinny 5'1 and 110 lbs until my son was born when I was 22. I gained 70 pounds during pregnancy. I did return to 115 pounds, and I kept it off chasing my son around.

My job was an accountant/paralegal and my company was always ordering food for meetings. There were always leftovers and I indulged (AFTER I already ate). What is it about food that you can't just stop? I WISH I would have STOPPED. It became, oh, just ONE MORE BITE, that turned into 20 more bites, and here I am.

There was a lot of stress in my life between my job, and my drug addicted son who was threatening suicide because he hated being an addict, but couldn't quit doing drugs. He went to rehab more than once, but went right back to the same friends and the same drugs that got him to rehab in the first place. This went on from the time he was 18 until he finally overdosed at 31, in 2013. I talked to him until I had no air left in my lungs, I did the tough love, I did empathy, but NOTHING I did broke the addiction. He was a functioning addict, meaning he worked two jobs while using heroin. He moved in and out from my home. He said he couldn't live by my rules of going to bed at 10 pm, and staying away from the people he hung around with at rave parties. I lost a lot of sleep during those years. It was a really long nightmare that I would never wish on anyone. It makes you angry, it makes you cry. You want to kill the drug addiction, but not the person. No matter how many times I told him "you are better than this" he chose the heroin. He was bright, had a high IQ, very intelligent, understood things that were way over my head. He was handsome and had a great personality. When we were together we laughed so hard, our sense of humor was the same and we fed off each other, things got funnier and funnier until we couldn't breathe. Call me crazy, but I could never tell when he was using, or when he wasn't. I was looking for large pupils or tracks on his arms, but I didn't see it. I found out later than he was shooting up between his toes or in his neck. The day he passed, I called to invite him to lunch or dinner. He sounded drunk, slurring his words, and said he didn't feel well. I thought he drank too much and had a hangover. Then I went to his apartment and he didn't answer. I thought he must have felt better and gone with his friends somewhere. I felt a knot in my stomach and my hear started pounding so hard that I thought I was having a heart attack. I told my husband "I am not ready to bury my only son". My husband told me that I had a very vivid imagination and he left to go fix his Mom's garage door. After he left, I was sitting on the couch watching "CBS Sunday Morning" and someone started pounding on my front door. I ignored it because I didn't feel like having company. The pounding continued until I opened the door to find two police officers. They asked me to identify myself, then asked me if they could come in. At that moment, I was thinking they must be looking for my son, who wasn't there. I invited them inside and they asked me to sit down. I was thinking that they were going to search my house. Then they told me that my son was found dead in his apartment. I didn't react. I didn't cry. It didn't seem real. I was not processing what they said. They asked me to call his Dad who was on his way to work. I asked him to pull over and told him what happened. The police waited with me until my husband got back home. I still didn't cry. I didn't cry until I went to bed and said "God, please take me now, I can't do this" and I cried myself to sleep. I didn't want to get out of bed, but I had to clean out his apartment. His Dad identified his body and planned the funeral, and I was grateful for that. I didn't want to go to the funeral. I didn't want to see anybody, and I didn't want anybody to see me fall apart in public at my only child's funeral. It happened anyway.

After that, I lost my job because I could no longer concentrate. I started taking antidepressants that made me hungrier. I ate myself into prediabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, sleep apnea, and GERD. I was miserable, but the more miserable I felt, the more I ate.

During this period of mourning, my son's ex girlfriend had my son's three year old child, and she was homeless. She would call and ask if we could watch my grandson so that she could go party with her drug addicted friends. She actually left him with us when he was 8 months old and didn't come back, before my son passed away. I missed a few days of work because I had no one to leave him with, no birth certificate, no proof that I was his grandmother, and I ended up calling Department of Family Services because I didn't know how to contact his Mother. She had no phone, no car, no home, nothing. I should have demanded Legal Guardianship right then, but I didn't want to take a child away from his Mother. As time went on, we picked him up at various flop houses where his Mother was couch surfing. After my son passed away, I did contact an attorney and went to court to get Legal Guardianship. One day we were babysitting my grandson, before we were his guardians, and he passed out in the back seat in his car seat. He just went limp. He stopped breathing. We rushed him to the hospital, and we had no ID for him, no birth certificate, nothing. He had asthma, but we didn't know it. We had no way to contact his Mother. I was afraid we would get arrested for kidnapping. That is why we finally decided to get Legal Guardianship. His Mother had the good sense to know that we could provide a much better life for him than she could, and she was also free to party on. My grandson is now 13, and she never calls him, but we do try to keep in contact by way of her Mother. She is still couch surfing but does have a pickup truck and a phone. She has never tried to talk to us about taking him back. We have always left the door open and told her that if she got a job and a permanent address, we would give him back. She isn't able to do that, yet. Before my grandson, she had two other children that were put into foster homes. We don't hate her, we've never had a bad disagreement with her.

My Grandson is doing well, even though he struggles with ADHD dyslexia, dysgraphia, and dyscalculia. He is making As ad Bs, plays baseball, football, basketball, and is a Boy Scout working toward Eagle Scout. I give all that credit to my husband who never had any children of his own. He is the best parent and has patience. He is an excellent athlete and coaches my Grandson's teams. He was never a Boy Scout, but enjoys learning scouting along with my Grandson.

I decided that it's time to focus on ME, on MY HEALTH, and live long enough to see my Grandson graduate and thrive. Better late than never. I look forward to gaining energy and stamina. I look forward to new clothes that don't look like a tent. I look forward to being able to squat down into a sports car or climb up into a big truck. I look forward to maybe even running.

Sorry for this extremely lengthy read, but I wanted to share my journey, and let others know that it's never too late, no matter what cards you've been dealt in your life. I would encourage you to be the BEST YOU, whatever that is.
Click to expand...
You are amazing! My surgery is on Monday and I have been waffling back and forth and so afraid and anxious. This post and your story was life changing and I want to thank you for it. I felt the fear and anxiety just melt away
 
MANDY2910 said:
You are amazing! My surgery is on Monday and I have been waffling back and forth and so afraid and anxious. This post and your story was life changing and I want to thank you for it. I felt the fear and anxiety just melt away
Click to expand...
Alright Mandy, finally that time is here. May you have a successful surgery and speedy healing. Good thoughts being sent your way (+ a little prayer, hope you don't mind). ❤❤❤❤
 
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