Tag Archives: diet

On Weight Loss and Metabolism

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It may not be scientific, but it’s what I’m seeing here.

As regular blog readers know, last summer I went on a diet and lost 45 pounds. That translated into four pants sizes (14 down to 6) and more than 20 inches (total) off my bust, waist, and hips.

I did all this in about four months — I started on June 15 and was pretty much off the diet food by October 15.

45 pounds was about 23% of my body weight. A friend, on seeing me in January for the first time in more than two years, said I was 2/3 the person I was. Not exactly accurate; I was closer to 3/4 the person I was.

My point: I lost a ton of weight in a very short time.

The Real Benefit

The benefit — other than looking great — was feeling great. I had (and still have) a ton of energy. I can walk faster, hike longer, and even climb hills without getting winded. And I have a theory about that.

When I was fat — there, I said it! — I was carrying around a lot of extra weight. My body had to adapt to carry that weight — it had to get stronger just to lift that extra weight off the ground and walk with it. When the extra weight disappeared, I still had the strength to carry it, but had nothing to carry.

Imagine being forced, every day of your life, to walk around with a backpack that gets heavier over time. After nine years, it’s 45 pounds. Because the weight was added slowly over time, your body has become accustomed to it and, although it’s not easy to carry, you can carry it because you’re used to carrying it.

Now imagine someone taking weight out of that backpack at the rate of 10+ pounds a month for four months. Your body still has the strength it needs to carry all that extra weight, but now it’s gone! How do you think you’re body’s going to react? It’s going to have all kinds of extra energy that it doesn’t need.

I’ve been putting that energy to good use since this summer by going on long hikes, getting out and about with friends, maintaining an aggressive travel schedule, and keeping active around the house, packing and moving my belongings into storage.

How Metabolism Fits In

Here’s where my theory gets a bit sketchy — mostly because I have no scientific evidence to back it up.

As we age, our metabolism slows down. I think that’s pretty much accepted as fact. Because most of us don’t reduce the amount of food we eat or eat smarter or better as we age, we gain weight. I’m pretty sure that — and normal female hormonal changes — are what caused me to pork up over the years.

After losing all that weight, I worried a lot about gaining it all back when I got off the diet — which required me to eat special food. But I certainly didn’t want to stay on the diet forever. So I weaned myself off the food and tried to eat sensibly.

Then the holidays came and I ate whatever I wanted to. And then I did some more traveling and I ate out a lot. And I spent a lot of time with friends, eating and drinking and having a grand old time.

At this point, I eat almost exactly as I did before I went on the diet. I should be gaining weight, right?

But I’m not. The weight is keeping off me.

And that’s where I think the metabolism is coming into play. I suspect that my weight loss and increased activity levels — because I now have more energy to keep active — has raised my metabolism. My body needs those calories and it burns them off.

What do you think? Does this make sense to anyone who knows about this kind of stuff?

My New Wardrobe

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A new wardrobe for a new me.

One of the good (and bad) things about losing a bunch of weight is the need to buy new clothes. Good because it’s always nice to have an excuse to buy new things. Bad because buying a whole new wardrobe can be costly.

As reported — or, rather, bragged about — elsewhere in this blog, I lost about 45 pounds this past summer. Although my clothes closet was full of clothes I’d worn in my thin days and many of them fit me, most of them did not. And my dresser drawers had only clothes that fit me before I lost all that weight.

Taking Inventory

It took a long time to go through all those clothes and I’m just about done. The news was not good.

My much-loved Henley t-shirts — the ones with the super-soft cotton — which I wore almost all the time, were now large enough to wear as nightshirts. They were a men’s size large and a handful of them have been shifted to my pajama drawer. The 3X t-shirts I had been wearing as nightshirts were tent-like and went to the thrift store.

My long-sleeved t-shirts, which had been snug, seemed big enough to put two of me in. The shoulder sleeve seams hung at least two inches below my shoulders. They’ll go to the thrift store.

I tried on at least 20 pairs of denim jeans that had been hanging in my closet for up to 15 years. I gave at least 15 pairs of them to the thrift store. Of the remaining pairs, some of them were so worn or torn that they’d need repairs before being put back into circulation.

The three suits I’d kept from my corporate days were too large. They went to the thrift store. The same goes for most of the dress slacks, although a nice pair of fully lined wool slacks now fit me again.

And when I finally tried on my cold-weather clothes a few weeks ago, I discovered that all of them were too big for me — some of them ridiculously large. That’s long-sleeved t-shirts, turtlenecks, mock turtlenecks, sweaters, sweatshirts, and jackets. I was even heart-broken to discover that even the black denim logo jacket I’d gotten from Lynda.com — the one with “Author” embroidered on it — was now too large to wear. It had been painfully snug when I wore it just last year.

There was some good news in the closet. My formal wear, including a long satin skirt and several sequin tops and dresses, mostly still fit. I had no need for such clothing in the later years of my marriage — after moving to Arizona we never went anywhere that required that level of dress — so I never bought anything it that during my fat days. Fortunately, I kept the thin clothes and hope to wear it in the future — maybe as soon as this New Year’s Eve.

The New Wardrobe

In Color
This photo, shot during my Thanksgiving trip to California, shows off one of the brightly colored t-shirts I picked up on a shopping spree in Vegas earlier that month. (I’ve also been traveling quite a bit lately.)

Over the past few months, I’ve been buying new clothes to fill in the gaps in my wardrobe. I detailed one shopping spree in this blog; there have been other smaller ones since then. On those trips, I bought the things I needed for warm weather: t-shirts, shorts, tank tops, skirts, and casual shoes (to replace the canvas Keds I’ve been wearing for years). A lot of what I bought is colorful — something I avoided in the past.

I also bought a lot of understuff: panties and bras. None of what I had in my underwear drawer fit properly anymore. I discovered Victoria’s Secret, had a bra fitting, and bought a few lacy bras that not only fit perfectly, but also helped counteract the affects of gravity that all women experience after a certain age. Of course, with all those lacy bras, I needed lacy panties to replace the practical but not very exciting cotton undies I’d been wearing for years. My soon-to-be ex-husband didn’t seem to care much about my lingerie — or sex, for that matter — in the last year or so of our marriage but I’m sure his replacement will. And I love looking and feeling sexy again.

I spent the Christmas holidays in St. Augustine, Florida, with my mom and stepdad. It wasn’t until I packed for the trip that I realized I had problems with my cold-weather wardrobe. So two days after Christmas, at the height of post-Christmas sales but before all the good merchandise had been bought up, I hit the outlet mall there.

Sale!It was a real shop-till-you-drop experience. I bought 9 long-sleeved t-shirts, 2 short-sleeved t-shirts, 2 lace camisoles, 3 tank tops, 3 sweaters, 2 pairs of Levis blue jeans, and a belt. I also bought 2 pairs of shoes — one of which I put on in the store and threw away what I’d been wearing. The sales made all this possible. With sale prices and two coupons, I spent less than $350 and got quality merchandise from stores like Eddie Bauer, Bass Shoes, Levis, and Tommy Hilfiger.

By the time I staggered back to the car, I was carrying 8 shopping bags. I had to ship most of my purchases home; the new clothes simply would not fit in my luggage.

Wearing Clothes that Fit

My new clothes all have one thing in common: they fit.

I know that sounds like an obvious goal, but you need to understand the kinds of clothes I was wearing before I lost weight. Back then, I didn’t like tight clothes because they showed off every bulge, so everything was loose-fitting. That just made me look even bigger than I was. And because ladies sizes weren’t always big enough for me, I bought a lot of my clothes in the men’s department — especially shirts. As a result, I always looked kind of big and shapeless.

Not so with my new wardrobe. All of my shirts are skin-tight, showing off my flat belly and new figure. Most of the jeans are “skinny” jeans — straight-leg and form-fitting. Even my shoes are cute and stylish; heck, just yesterday I got a complement on one of my new pairs.

Looking Lean
This shot, from my October 2012 Glamour Shots photo shoot — which was done before I finished slimming down — is a good example of my personal style.

And not only am I fitting into some of the old clothes I wore in my 20s and 30s, but I’m also dressing the same way I did back then — wearing clothes that accentuate my height (5’8″) and slim build. (That’s not as scary as it sounds, mostly because I never did go into the slutty look so many 20-somethings seem to like today.) I’ve resurrected my own personal style from the 80s and 90s: simple clothes in timeless fashions and basic colors. I look good, which, in turn, helps me feel even better.

It feels great to turn a few heads when I’m out and about.

What’s Still on My List

My wardrobe is nearly complete. The only thing I can still really use is a good mid-weight jacket. The few jackets I have — including my often-worn Robinson Helicopter jacket — are way too big on me. I already gave three jackets away, including a denim baseball-style jacket I got long ago for test riding a Yamaha motorcycle at Americade in 1991. (Did I mention that I seldom threw anything away?)

The good news is, my leather bomber jacket — the one with the sheepskin collar — still fits well enough to wear; I’ll put it to use on my upcoming photo gig at Lake Powell and Monument Valley. It’s freaking cold in the helicopter up there this time of year with two doors off, especially at dawn.

And my costly outback style oilskin duster — which I wore exactly twice on horseback rides during foul weather — fits fine. Now all I need is a reason to wear it again.

Maria 3.0: Shopping for Clothes

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Still very weird.

Okay, I’ll try to make this my last post — at least for a while — about all the weight I lost: about 40 pounds. Some of you must be getting tired of it. I’m still in disbelief.

Yesterday, I went to the mall to pick up some clothes. My wardrobe is extremely limited these days and I needed a few things to fill in the gaps. Mostly stuff that was a little dressy, or at least things that could be easily dressed up. I wanted something new to wear to court — and I really wish I didn’t have to think about things like that.

Maria 3.0
Maria 3.0 — AKA, Maria Rebooted. This is one of my Glamour Shots photos. I’m wearing old clothes in this one, folks — clothes I wore when I was in my 30s. (I saved a ton of money on clothes by keeping that old stuff. I remember wearing those shoes at my first job out of college!) I feel like I’m in my 30s, too.

What’s blowing my mind is the size thing. Before the diet, I was a size 14 or XL and really pushing the seams. Apparently, I’m now a size 8 or S.

But I’m in denial. So when I try on clothes, I keep bringing size 10 and M into the fitting room. And they’re just too darn big.

I do want to say that I don’t think today’s sizes are in the same scale as the sizes back in the 1980s when I was a size 8. (I was also a size 6 for a short while, when my activity level and metabolism brought my weight down to a sickly 105 pounds.) In my size 8 days, I weighed 130-140 pounds. Today, I weigh around 155. (No, I’m not ashamed of my weight. Indeed, I’m rather proud of it. Remember, I’m 5’8″ tall; according to this chart, I’m right about where I should be.)

My closet was full of old clothes and I tried on every single item in there. What I found is that I’m fitting into size 10 and 12 from the “old days.” Not size 8. It’s the new size 8, which seems to be equivalent to the old size 10, that I’m fitting into.

Why are clothes sizes different? I suspect it has to do with the fattening of America. As I walk around the mall — and elsewhere — I can’t help but notice all the fatties around me. I used to be one of them. Now I’m not. And I really feel sorry for them.

Yesterday, I was in Clearwater Creek, trying on some of the clearance clothes. A skirt in size 10 actually fit better in size 8. (I didn’t buy it because I didn’t like the cut. I look much better in slim-line skirts than ones that flare out.) A sleeveless knit shirt in size M actually fit better in size S. Small! Can you believe that? I can’t! I was busting the seams on XL in women’s sizes just four months ago!

I caught on by the time I got to JC Penney. I brought both size 10 and size 8 into the fitting room with me. The size 8 fit. I bought a funky tweed-like skirt and a red skirt — if you can imagine that. I would have bought a black faux leather skirt if they’d had it in my size.

Today, I tried to find a pair of plain black Levi’s jeans. What I discovered is that it’s nearly impossible to find ladies’ jeans that aren’t made out of stretch fabric. I used to like stretch denim. I used to need stretch denim. But now I just want regular old denim. Like the kind they sell to guys. I almost bought a pair of men’s 505 jeans in black denim, but I wanted them in 34 length instead of 32. Apparently, Levi’s doesn’t make them. I like the 550s, but really think that with my new, slim figure the 505s would be more flattering. I’ll have to hit the Levi’s store at the outlet mall and try again.

Shoes are easy. I’m still a size 8 or 8-1/2. In the old days, I wore a size 6-1/2. I guess my feet got fatter and stayed that way. Picked up a new pair of plain black pumps today. Can’t wait to throw out the old patent leather pumps I used to wear when I had a “real job.”

I’m really enjoying all of this. What I’m not enjoying is having clothes that I thought would fit but are now too large. I like my clothes to fit properly. And I don’t have an unlimited budget for buying clothes.

But hell — at least I like shopping now. I haven’t enjoyed it so much since my college days, when I worked in a retail clothing store.

It’s all part of Maria 3.0 — AKA, Maria Rebooted. And it sure makes me happy.

Glamour Shots

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Reinvention needs documentation.

This past summer, I reinvented myself. It took some time — about three months — and the process is just about complete now. I went from being an overweight, middle-aged woman in a failing marriage to a slim, trim, sexy future divorcee, able to fit into clothes I wore in my 30s — and feeling like I’m in my 30s again. You can read about various aspects of my transformation in the blog posts tagged divorce.

The weight loss happened mostly while I was away in Washington. My friends there saw it happen gradually, so it wasn’t really noticed or commented on. My family had last seen me when I was at my heaviest and were anxious to get a look at me. Unfortunately, they’re all on the east coast — not within casual visiting distance. When I arrived home and began going through my wardrobe to find clothes that would fit the new, thin me, I took a few pictures and blogged them. But the pictures weren’t very good. I needed something professionally done.

Enter Glamour Shots. This company franchises professional photo services that go beyond just making photos. They work with you to make you look your best, then capture dozens of images for you to choose from.

My appointment was on Tuesday at Arizona Mills. I’d been instructed to bring three outfits — of course, I brought more just in case — and come without makeup.

Closeup Shot

Casual Shot

Cocktail Dress

I started with a makeup artist/hair stylist. I explained to her that I preferred a natural look that accentuated my features — especially my eyes — without making me look “made up.” Colorful eye shadows, for example, weren’t my style. She listened to me and made me up the way I would — if I was a little better at applying makeup.

Then she did my hair. I showed her photos of how I usually wore it and without too much trouble, she was able to duplicate the look.

By then, the photographer was ready and I was sent into the changing room to put on my first outfit. My only complaint about the Arizona Mills location was the fact that the changing room was also the restroom. Although there were hooks on the wall, there wasn’t enough space to spread out accessories like jewelry. And it just wasn’t the kind of atmosphere that I found comfortable for changing my clothes.

My first outfit was casual — my black “skinny jeans,” a blue shirt, and some Native American jewelry with blue accents. Blue works well for me — it brings out the color of my eyes.

I gave the photographer one simple instruction: make me look happy.

There were two photo studios, each set up with different floor and wall colors, as well as props like chairs and stools. The photographer instructed me on where to stand and how to pose. “Big smile,” he’d say. Then click and two flashes went off. He’d examine the image in the back of the camera, redo the shot if necessary, and then move on to the next pose.

Although I was only supposed to have three outfits, I actually had three and a half — a top change for the casual outfit. They kindly allowed me to do these extra shots, mostly because my makeup and hair had been so quick to do. Then we moved on to a skirt and top outfit, and finally, my colorful little “cocktail” dress.

For each outfit, I was shot on different backgrounds, with different poses, and at different distances. This built up quite a collection of shots, from closeups to full-body shots. The photographer sometimes tilted the camera for a more interesting image. Sometimes, he’d shoot the same pose from different angles for different framing and composition.

When it was all over — about 90 minutes after we’d started — I changed back into street clothes and organized my wardrobe. I had 45 minutes to wait for them to assemble the images. I had a quick lunch, then brought all my clothes back out to my car. When I got back in, they were pretty much ready for me.

They first showed me the images in a slide show. While I know that some people go for that kind of thing, it didn’t do much for me. The only benefit was that it kept us moving through all 80 or so images without stopping. Some of the images had been modified to remove color (or partially remove color) or convert to sepia. Again, while some people like that, I’m not too keen on it. After all, I can always fiddle around with the images in Photoshop to get a similar affect.

Once the slide show was over, we went through the images one by one. I pretty much rejected all the modified images and concentrated on the regular color shots. We weeded out a bunch, leaving me with about 36 that I liked. They asked me how many print packages I wanted and I think they were a bit surprised that I didn’t want any. All I wanted were high-resolution digital images that I could use however I liked — for profile photos, author photos, and probably dating. And, of course, I could always print up my own framed images for my mom or anyone else who wanted one.

I wound up buying 23 images that they’d touch up for me and another 13 that would not be touched up. It was expensive — I don’t want to say how much — but I think of it as a special treat to celebrate the new me. And having photos of me looking good will help encourage me to keep looking good.

I’ll get my disc from Glamour Shots in two to three weeks. The images you see here were forwarded to me at my request so I could include them in this blog post.

Many thanks to the staff at the Arizona Mills Glamour Shots for helping me look my best in pictures.

On Broken Marriages, Self-Esteem, Divorce, and Victoria’s Secret

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My year in review.

Over the last few months, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the past 29 years of my life with the man who became my husband six years ago. The same man who rather suddenly told me he wanted a divorce in June, when I was 1200 miles away at my summer job.

I’ve blogged about our life together as things happened in bits and pieces throughout the 9-year history of this blog. I’ve also written blog posts that look back on certain aspects of our relationship and marriage; you can easily find them by clicking the divorce tag. Writing about this has been cathartic for me, helping me to organize my thoughts and get them out of my head in a way that makes so much sense.

It’s unfortunate that I need to write about this so much. I’d much rather write about other more interesting things like flying and travel and cooking. Sadly, this has taken a front row seat in my life, so it’s up front in my blog, too. I know that more than a few people have found what I’ve written helpful to them as they deal with their own divorce and recovery.

Today I want to focus on the damage I suffered to my personal self-esteem as my marriage started to deteriorate and how I’ve lately been able to overcome that and emerge a better, healthier, and stronger woman.

The Decline of a Marriage

Looking back in the 20-20 vision of hindsight, I think the problem started when I returned from my summer job in October 2011.

The month before, in September when my cherry contracts were finally over, my husband had flown out to Washington to spend about a week with me on a little vacation. We loaded up the truck and headed out on a trip around the Olympic Peninsula that included a day trip to Victoria, BC in Canada. We had a great time together — at least it seemed that way to me — and got to tour some of Washington’s most beautiful coastal and mountain areas with unbelievably good weather. I blogged about the first three days of the trip here, here, and here. As we finished that trip, I thought things were pretty darn good with our marriage. It was great to do a trip together — we’d had so few vacations in the previous few years due to his limited vacation time — and I looked forward to coming home and spending more time with him.

He’d been living 4 days a week in his Phoenix condo, which was much closer to work than our Wickenburg house. He’d been doing this for years — since he bought the condo — and had a roommate there to help keep his expenses down. I knew the roommate pretty well — he and his wife had been friends for years. His wife lived in their Williams area home and worked in Flagstaff. I liked her a lot; I thought (at least then) that she was a genuinely good person. But the roommate, who worked for the same company as my husband, was sometimes hostile toward me. As a result, I felt uncomfortable spending time at the condo with my husband when the roommate was around. So I pretty much stayed in Wickenburg during the week with occasional trips to Phoenix on weekends when it was less likely for the roommate to be around.

But in the late summer of 2011, my husband had asked the roommate to find another place to live. With the roommate gone, I’d move my office to the condo and spend more time with my husband. I could work in the condo while he went to his job in north Phoenix. We’d be together, without a third party hanging around.

So the roommate moved out and I moved my office into his bedroom. We also got a new king-sized bed and set up a small bed for guest in my office. I bought new blinds and fixed the place up a bit. Like my husband, I shifted many of my personal possessions to this new (for me) home and began living there during the week.

Because I’d been away all summer, I didn’t immediately pick up on the vibes coming out of my husband. But looking back on it now, I realize that he was distracted and distant almost from the very beginning of my time living in the condo. When I finally caught on, I assumed it had to do with his job. The company wasn’t doing well in the economy and although my husband usually didn’t have much trouble selling product, customer purse strings were tightening and my husband’s boss wasn’t being flexible enough on pricing. They were losing sales — he was losing sales. This not only affected his commission income, but it was making his boss unreasonable.

As the months ticked by, the stories my husband brought home from work became more and more disturbing. He was in a frustrating work environment, sharing a tiny office with a loud co-worker. His boss wanted to see him at his desk but also wanted him out in the field talking to customers. His boss was attempting to micro-manage everyone, throwing my husband — an experienced sales guy — off his game with idiotic instructions and demands. People were quitting or getting fired. My husband was stressed out and was bringing this stress home with him.

There was nothing I could do to help him. Instead, I watched him become more and more distant from me. Our time spent together was limited to going out to dinner, going to a movie, or watching TV. We seldom had sex; he seemed more interested in watching TV than coming to bed with me. When we went home to Wickenburg on weekends, he seemed more interested in doing chores around the house or catching up on DVRed episodes of his favorite car show than spending time with me. I couldn’t work in Wickenburg, so when I had work to do, I began staying in Phoenix over the weekend to work.

All through this time, he never told me what was bothering him. We never communicated about what was important in our lives together. When he didn’t like something I did or said, he’d fix me with a disapproving glance, letting me feel the unspoken anger that lurked within him. Spending time with him was becoming difficult, if not downright painful.

A Self-Esteem Death Spiral

Again, I didn’t realize it as it was happening, but when my husband and I started drifting apart, I began taking less of an interest in myself and my appearance. I’d always preferred loose-fitting clothes, which were more comfortable than more fashionable and feminine clothes I could have been wearing. But there seemed no reason to dress up or put on makeup — my husband obviously didn’t care so why should I?

At the same time, all our eating out and my lunch breaks spent walking Charlie the Dog to the nearby shops and restaurants started going to my waist. I started to gain weight. The loose-fitting clothes hid it, making me just another shapeless middle-aged woman.

I began noticing a certain lack of attention or even respect from sales clerks — especially younger ones — when I went shopping. I’d sometimes be ignored as I waited for service. More attractive people got more attention, smiles, polite responses. I began feeling like a second-class citizen.

Worse yet, my short hair and lack of makeup sometimes caused me to be mistaken for a man. The first few times this happened in front of my husband, he corrected the waiter or sales clerk or whoever very sharply. Once or twice, we even walked out of a restaurant. But after a while and too many times of this happening, he stopped correcting them. It must have made him feel like crap to be with a woman that some people thought was a man.

It made me feel like crap, too. But rather than do something about it, I just made it worse. I kept eating. I continued to gain weight. Few of my normal clothes fit me. I had nothing feminine in my closet to wear. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the overweight, middle-aged, possibly lesbian woman that everyone else was seeing. I hated what I saw. But I didn’t do a damn thing about it. As our relationship continued to decline, my self-esteem declined with it. Even when I stood on the scale one day and read 198 pounds, and my doctor prescribed three blood pressure medications, I continued on what would likely have been a self-destructive course.

I think that if my husband and I had talked about our situation and come up with some sort of plan to make it better, my problem might have begun to resolve itself sooner. At least we would have had a chance of saving the marriage along with my self-esteem. But because we never had the talk the marriage counsellor we saw said we needed, the marriage was never saved. Lack of communication is what ultimately killed our marriage; what came after I left for this summer’s work were just nails in the coffin.

The Diet and Divorce

In May 2012, once I’d relocated back to Washington for the summer and could bury myself in the flying work I enjoyed, I started feeling a little better. Other things that helped were:

  • Being among friends. After four summers in Washington, I had far more friends there than I had in Wickenburg or Phoenix. In Washington, I had a social life that included dinner out with friends, wine tasting, and socializing.
  • Being away from my husband’s dismal moods. It was a relief to be able to do what I wanted without having to worry about seeing his disapproving glare.
  • Being in a simpler living situation. Living in an RV isn’t ideal, but with just one person calling all the shots, it isn’t bad.

Meanwhile my husband got a new and better job that would allow him to work from home and travel. We were both excited about this. I think that if he’d gotten the job about three months earlier, I wouldn’t be using a divorce tag on my posts. I think the job could have saved our marriage. But the job came just after I left for the season. And although we talked on the phone about him coming to Washington with the dog and spending the summer with me and even traveling together, none of that ever happened.

I started the diet in mid June. My friend Mike and his wife Cheryl had lost 80 and 70 pounds respectively. My friend Jim, another pilot, jumped on board about a week before I did. It was Medifast and I already blogged about it and its results.

My husband began the divorce discussion on June 30, my birthday. I was shocked and wanted to meet with him in person to discuss it further. We met on July 12 in Cle Elum. By that time, I’d lost about 10 pounds.

Our meeting was charged with emotion. It was very civil. I did a lot of crying. I flew him out to Malaga in the helicopter to show him a wonderful piece of land where I thought we could reboot our lives together. He was not interested. The decision was made. He cried with me a little at lunch before we parted. And he also lied to me, assuring me that there was no other woman.

The emotional roller coaster I was on this summer isn’t worth recounting here. Reading my divorce-tagged posts should give you an idea of what I was experiencing and feeling. Until I found out about the other woman in August, I thought we still had a chance together — so did so many of our friends and family members — especially the ones he kept assuring that he still loved me. It was part of what motivated me to stay on the diet and keep losing weight.

Once I found out about the lies, I became doubly motivated. And as the fat fell off my body, my self-esteem began to come back.

Yes, it’s true — my husband wants to sleep with someone else. Someone who just happened to come along and tempt him when he was weak and needed someone. That should make me feel like crap. But it doesn’t. It makes me feel sorry for him and his weakness. It makes me realize that a strong woman shouldn’t be married to a weak man. It makes me realize that I can do so much better — and I should.

When I came home early and unexpectedly on September 15 and jumped the few hurdles he’d set to keep me out of my home and hangar, I was a full 40 pounds lighter than when I’d left for Washington on May 1. As I blogged earlier this week, I went “shopping” in my own closet and managed to fit into clothes I haven’t worn since I was in my 30s. And I look good in them. Another boost to my self-esteem.

One afternoon, I went to the Clinque counter in Macy’s and sat down for a makeup consultation. She made up my face in the “natural” style I prefer, explaining how each of the products would help my skin stay young or make me look better. I spent $200 on skin cremes and cosmetics and now use them daily. Yes — I wear makeup every day now. And I’m seeing a real difference in my skin.

But the best part was driving home from Macy’s in my Honda S2000 with the top down, when a guy in a pickup truck beside me at a light rolled down his window and called, “You look cute in that car!” Another boost to my self-esteem.

The other day, after my first court appearance for the divorce, I stopped off at the Arizona Mills mall. I needed new undergarments — everything I owned was too big. I went into Victoria’s Secret and got a professional bra fitting. (The sales woman told me my current bra was a “granny bra.” Oops.) I bought two new bras that make quite a difference in my figure — especially with the tank tops that have become a staple in my wardrobe. Let’s just say that only a blind person could mistake me for a man now. Another boost to my self-esteem.

At 51 years old, I’m not only turning heads, but I’m getting the respect and attention I deserve. My self-esteem has been repaired and is thriving.

And it’s not just self-esteem. It’s my health, too. I don’t just look good, I feel good. More energy, better stamina. Even more sex drive — which is frustrating and a shame since I have no one to share it with. I think about how good I feel now and I can’t believe I let myself go so badly. I encourage everyone reading this to evaluate their physical situation and if it’s not perfect, do something about it now.

(And to you “big and beautiful ladies” who think the extra pounds just make you more beautiful, you’re only fooling yourself. Sorry. I’ve been there and back and I know.)

I’m proud to say that my recovery from the brink took less than four months.

My GlamourShots photo session is today. I can’t wait to share the results!

My Poor Husband

Despite the incredible frustration and pain he’s been causing me almost every day for the past year or so, I still love my husband. I always will. The good memories from twenty-nine years together simply can’t be washed away.

I think he’s going through some deep psychological problems that were likely fueled by age, his unsatisfying work situation, his deteriorating relationship with me, and the promises offered by the woman he chose to replace me. I know this because I know him and how he thinks. I know that deep down inside, he’s a good person, one who is probably feeling a lot of guilt about how he’s hurting me and the people who care about both of us — people like my mother, and my stepfather, who he also lied to.

My husband’s irrational behavior over the past year or so — ramped up since I left home in May for work — is likely a textbook study of male mid-life crisis. His crisis came late in life (mine began in 2006 when I was 45) and I’m so sorry he didn’t turn to me for help. Instead, he’s found other people to help him justify his behavior toward me, to ease his guilty conscience and to support his idea that I’m some sort of evil witch who is out to ruin his life. I suspect he’ll snap out of it one day, and I hope that happens before too much more emotional damage is done.