My Daughter's "Other" Mommy

A few years back, I discovered my daughter believed she had two mommies. It was one of those car seat conversations when I was picking her up from preschool. As we drove by the Children's Museum I asked if she remembered the time we had her birthday party there.

"Oh yeah!" she chirped. "My other mommy took me there!"

I turned to look at her quizzically, "Your other mommy?"

"Yeah, you know!" she said, "the big one with the short hair and funny glasses? You know, that one!" Eventually, we were able to convince her that fat mommy and skinny mommy were the same, but we had to use photographs! My husband would just hoot hysterically and ponder what little Zoe must imagine happened to poor fat mommy -- Daddy must have her locked in the basement or traded her for a skinny one at the mommy store!

Diet and weight are issues I've struggled with my entire adult life with varying degrees of success. Two years after my lovely girl was born, I had to come to terms with not having lost any of my baby fat. I was easily 40 pounds overweight. I also had short hair and round John Lennon-ish glasses (What can I say? I'm not a style guru either!). After a year or two of Weight Watchers, yoga classes, and a changed cooking approach I emerged a different person and also, apparently, unrecognizable.

So I've been there. If you, like my daughter, need proof, I've got pictures. So what do I have to say with all my admitted failings and shortcomings? Well several things. First, proper nutrition and a healthy weight really are important. Naturally this is true for anybody, but now that I've joined the ranks of the RA (Rah!) it's even more important. Unfortunately it is also more challenging.

Our disease and the powerful medications we take to combat it can make fatigue a serious life limiting issue. I can also attest personally to the energy sapping results of extra pounds and unhealthy food choices. Put these two things together and you are dealing with a very frustrating double whammy! Moreover (YIKES, there's more?!) the extra stress weight puts on our joints is double, even triple the BAD an otherwise "healthy" heavy person might experience -- and PAINFUL!

My journey to a healthier me started in the usual cliché way, by admitting I had a problem. I could no longer laugh it off with my "big boned" or "Reubinesque" jokes. It really wasn't funny. I felt like hell, looked worse, and my self esteem was taking a beating. I couldn't do it alone. I tried before and was getting nowhere. I needed a plan so this time would be different. No more fast weight loss only to gain even more back. No plans that eliminated entire food groups. I needed to choose a path with the same care that goes into choosing a spouse; if I couldn't live with it forever, I had to move on.

I decided on Weight Watchers. I liked the emphasis on lifestyle change and needed the moral support and feeling of accountability. Sensible weight loss was emphasized over the quick turnaround. We were told to shoot for a pound a week. Heck, even I could maybe do that! The money was a funny thing too. It was actually very motivating to have some proverbial "skin in the game". By God if I'm paying for it I'd better work for some results! I also justified the cost by considering how much I was usually paying for junk food anyway. I could either keep spending to be fat or pay for a plan to get healthy.