Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Scale? Or Saboteur?

Before I started attending the Tyson Method Boot Camps, I was pretty obsessed with what the scale said.  In fact, there are still times when the number on the scale improves or ruins my day.

I found an article that describes exactly what I feel on the subject and what the Tysons are so brilliant and proving to all of us in the boot camps.

The scale is NOT what should make you feel pretty, healthy or happy.

This article was found on Weight Loss Rebels (I changed some of the words because I don't agree with the language used)

Read on and let me know your thoughts:


I’ve been on so many rants about this subject, but I thought it was finally time to put my thoughts together in something slightly more intelligible than a few curse word ridden sentences on Facebook. You’ll hear varying opinions about the scale from different trainers, some say that weighing yourself every day is great for accountability, some say don’t weigh yourself at all. Well ladies and gents, welcome to camp #2 AKA DON’T WEIGH YOURSELF!

Here’s why; unless you’re an athlete that requires your weight to be recorded for competition, or perhaps in another line of work that REQUIRES that number, your weight means NOTHING and it serves you no purpose to know it. Seriously. Think about it. Imagine you never weighed yourself again, how would that be to your detriment? It wouldn’t! I suppose if you avoid the scale while you stuff your face with Oreos and wallow in miserable denial about the number, it could potentially be a bad thing, but that’s not what we’re talking about here. I’m talking about your average person who’s just trying to get healthy and maybe lose a few pounds in the process.

The biggest reason I like the scale as much as I like getting sand blown in my eyes isn’t for the reason you think it is; it isn’t because the scale doesn’t reflect body composition and it doesn’t show you how hard you’ve worked or how much water you’re retaining or insert-typical-anti-scale-reason-here. Don’t get me wrong, those are all excellent reasons to avoid the box of unimportantness (that is not a word), they’re all true, and I use them as my own reasons periodically, but the number one reason I hate the scale is because people use it to TORTURE themselves.

It sits there in your bathroom waiting, just WAITING for you to step on it to make you feel bad about yourself. Oh you had a piece of pie last night? STEP ON ME YOU FAT COW. Let me show you how indulgent you are! Get over here so I can reflect your gluttonous, pleasure seeking self for all the world to see! You think you’re fat? Just wait until I toss this number out into the universe, that’ll teach you!

You get on that scale to punish yourself. It’s a literal, real world model of the lowest rungs of your self esteem ladder. Do we really need to manifest the deepest, darkest parts of our self loathing? Now this isn’t to say that every person that weighs themselves does so for masochistic purposes, but I’m not talking about those people either. They probably hop on the scale and give themselves a hug at the same time, I WISH I was one of those people. Chances are, you ain’t either.

The worst part about it is that it doesn’t seem to matter what that scale says, it could be a few pounds lower and you’d still be upset that it wasn’t LOWER, and if it’s the SAME, or HORRORS, HIGHER! That’ll send you into a full on mental breakdown filled with cupcakes and ice cream and french fries oh my! Bye bye motivation! I tried that hard and I gained weight? I’m such a loser! I knew I couldn’t do it. Pass the poutine (that’s french fries with cheese and gravy for you American folk).

I think the most revealing demonstration of the punishing, program-derailing effects of the scale have been witnessed when people are actually physically SMALLER (think inches) and the scale has gone up or stayed the same, and they’re mad at themselves. Think about that. SMALLER PERSON, MAD. It makes no shred of logical sense whatsoever, and yet I probably can’t count the number of times that it’s happened to people I train or those around me. It’s something to behold, a smaller person angry at their results. If anything I see a lack of movement in the scale paired with smaller measurements as the BEST possible outcome, because that means you probably didn’t flush your muscle down the toilet with your fat loss! Win win right! Errrrr…… no?

We need to lose the stranglehold that our relationship with gravity holds over our collective psyche. Think about how many times you felt great and that your clothes felt looser, then you got on the scale and POOF it messed up your entire day/week/insert-time-until-New-Years-Resolution. Now imagine you didn’t get on the scale. You’d STILL be motivated. You’d STILL feel great. You’d STILL be on track! Have I convinced you yet? Good. Here are some better ways to measure your progress:

1. Progress Pictures – Hands down one of my favourite ways to track progress, just ask my Ambassadors how much I love my side-by-sides.
2. Clothes – Are your clothes looser, then you’re smaller!
3. Measurements – Take measurements, they are MUCH less fickle than the scale and actually reflect if you’re getting bigger or smaller.

If you don’t like any of those options, don’t do ANY of it. I don’t care. But whatever you do, don’t use the scale as a way to tell yourself you aren’t worthy or that you’re fat/ugly/unattractive. You should take pleasure in food, you should take pleasure in eating tasty things, don’t step on the scale as way to exercise your nutritional demons. You don’t need to be punished for eating a few pieces of pizza.

In short (or really long and ranty), it’s time to get all Office Space on that hunk of junk. Take it to the field behind your house, toss it in the dumpster, run it over with your car. Target practice? I’m pretty sure you can throw a scale REAL far. PULL!!
You with me? I want to see those busted ass scales. It’s time to start a revolution of dictating our OWN success which does not involve triple digits!


Now there are days when I still step on the scale and cringe at the number and spend the rest of the day in a slump.  There are also days when I step on the scale, do a little dance and spend the rest of the day smiling and thinking things are going pretty good.  Whatever it is, the scale and number on it SHOULD NOT dictate our mood.  I'm going to try really hard to avoid stepping on the scale and having that number dictate my life.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

20 Years Ago Today

I remember where I was 20 years ago today, when we got the phone call that my grandpa had passed away.

My mom and I were at my grade 7 winter retreat at Red Rock.  It was a beautiful winter weekend.  While I was outside playing with my friends, one of my teachers approached me and said my mom needed to talk to me.

Right then I knew.

I felt it in my heart -- and cried.

I remember my Dad driving to Red Rock to pick us up, and I remember lying in the back seat the whole ride home -- remembering.

The first memory I have of my Grandpa is when I was about 3 or 4.  I remember waking up from a nap, walking into our living room and seeing my Grandpa there.  He smiled when he saw me.

A lot of my memories of my Grandpa included Hockey Night in Canada.

I remember sitting at his feet in their living room, listening to Hockey Night in Canada on the radio.

I remember the theme song.

I remember him explaining what "off side" and "penalty" meant.

I remember when he had his leg amputated.

I remember my Grandma changing the dressings with me in the room.

I remember how he never let having only 1 full leg slow him down.

I remember rides on his scooters to and from the park.

I remember his smile.

I remember his love for God, his Bible ever present.

Grandpa, I love you and miss you.

There are SO many things I want to share with you now.

I've told my kids about you and they would have called you Opa.


My Grandpa kept a garden.
A garden of the heart;
He planted all the good things,
That gave our lives their start.
He turned us to the sunshine,
And encouraged us to dream:
Fostering and nurturing the seeds of self-esteem.
And then the winds and rain came,
He protected us enough;
But not too much because he knew
We would stand up strong and tough.
His constant good example,
Always taught us right from wrong;
Markers for our pathway that will last
a lifetime long.
We are our Grandpa’s garden,
We are his legacy.
Thank you Grandpa, for all you've taught me.

Monday, October 8, 2012

His Love Endures Forever by Beth Wiseman ~ A Book Review

Book Description

An unplanned pregnancy. An absent father. Can love really endure all things?
Danielle Kent is anything but Amish. But as destiny would have it, she has fallen in love with an Amish man.
Now she’s 18, pregnant, and hopeful that the child’s Amish father—Matthew Lapp—will do the right thing and marry her. She knows Matthew plans to leave his Colorado settlement for a life in the Englisch world. But that plan never included a baby.
When Matthew walks away from her and their unborn child, she has nowhere to turn. Her unlikely friendship with Levi offers some comfort—yet they have so little in common. This wasn’t the plan she had for her life, and she has never felt so alone. She doesn’t want to be pregnant. Doesn’t want to be Amish. Doesn’t want to trust God.  And yet.... 
God has plans beyond what her mind can imagine . . . loving plans to show a lost young woman that His love never fails but endures forever.
I love reading Amish fiction.  True most books are around the same story line and you can always kind of figure out what is going to happen in the story.
This book was very different and I couldn't predict what would happen at the end of the story.
I also really liked this book because the writer wrote about how God's plan is not always our plan and can be a difficult road to follow.  But if we truly follow God, his plan for our lives will always lead us the right way.
I definitely recommend this book for your next reading.
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

A Path Toward Love by Cara Lynn James ~ A Book Review


Katherine came home to forget her past.
The last thing she expected is a hopeful future.

Young widow Katherine Osborne returns to her familys rustic camp on Raquette Lake in the Adirondack Mountains. Shes determined to live a quiet life, but her socialite mother is equally determined to push her into a new marriage while shes still young.

Andrew Townsend has known Katherine since they were children. An attorney who is successful, but not wealthy, he knows she is socially out of his reach. But hes curious what changed the free-spirited girl he once knew into this private, somber young woman.

Katherine has kept hidden the details of her unsuccessful marriage. When past sins come to light, she must turn to God for the courage to be honest. But how can she trust the God she feels has let her down? When she confides in Andrew, their relationship takes a dramatic turn into uncharted territory.

Amid impossible obstacles, two young people must learn to trust enough to walk the path that God has cleared for them. A path that leads to healing and restoration. A path toward love.

Cara Lynn James does a great job of Developing the characters and story line in this book to make it feel like you are living in their time, in their circumstances and walking alongside them.

How many times do we beg God to give us an answer or to clear a path for us and in time (with much heartache and trouble) we realize that if we would have just kept our eyes on him that the path is very obvious?

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Through Rushing Water by Catherine Richmond ~ Book Review

Sophia has her life all planned out—but her plan didn’t include being jilted or ending up in Dakota Territory.
Sophia Makinoff is certain that 1876 is the year that she’ll become the wife of a certain US Congressman, and happily plans her debut into the Capitol city. But when he proposes to her roommate instead, Sophia is stunned. Hoping to flee her heartache and humiliation, she signs up with the Board of Foreign Missions on a whim.
With dreams of a romantic posting to the Far East, Sophia is dismayed to find she’s being sent to the Ponca Indian Agency in the bleak Dakota Territory. She can’t even run away effectively and begins to wonder how on earth she’ll be able to guide others as a missionary. But teaching the Ponca children provides her with a joy she has never known—and never expected—and ignites in her a passion for the people she’s sent to serve.
It’s a passion shared by the Agency carpenter, Willoughby Dunn, a man whose integrity and selflessness are unmatched. The Poncas are barely surviving. When U.S. policy decrees that they be uprooted from their land and marched hundreds of miles away in the middle of winter, Sophia and Will wade into rushing waters to fight for their friends, their love, and their destiny.
This is the second book I have read from Catherine Richmond.  I love that her books are easy to read.  Even though they are easy to read, there is a lesson for everyone in each of her books.  Through Rushing Water is no different.
How often have we prayed to God, deliberately asking for a certain thing to happen in our lives, only to have God point us in a very different direction?  The main character in this story, Sophia, prays that God will send her to China to be a missionary.  Instead she gets sent to the furthest place from China she could get.  She finds out through the book, that perhaps God knew what he was doing!  An amazing thought, huh.  I think we can learn a very important lesson from this story - what  we think is best, is not always in God's plan for us.
If you are looking for a great read, this book is for you.
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Happy 4th Birthday Ryan!

Today my baby turns 4!  How did THAT happen??

Since I shared Ashley's birth story with you, I thought I would share Ryan's as well.


About a month before Ryan's due date, we found out that our doctor was leaving, and she would be gone long before he would even be born.  Not sure if it was because of the stress of that, or because I just couldn't eat anything because there was no room for my stomach, but I started to loose weight at every appointment.  But since baby was still growing and doing fine, the doctor's weren't too concerned.

Wednesday June 17, we met with the surgeon.  Ryan had been sitting funny for the last couple of appointments (kind of crooked) and hadn't changed at this one.  In fact he seemed more "stuck" as it were.  So after lots of discussion, we decided on another c-section.  The next day we received a date - July 9th.

Wednesday July 9, 2008 – We showed up at the hospital at 5:45 am!  VERY early!  We registered and filled out all the paperwork and then were sent upstairs to get ready.

Once I was prepped, we had to wait about an hour before they wheeled me to the OR.  Dr. Galessiere, was the surgeon, Dr. Horne was the doctor assisting with the surgery, and Dr. Duerksen was the doctor to look after you.

The spinal didn't go nearly as smoothly as it did with Ashley (although THANKFULLY the catheater part went MUCH smoother)  The anesthesiologist wasn't the same kind woman that I had with Ashley.  It was some older guy and he was poking around in my back for a long time.  FINALLY it worked and I could feel my body starting to numb up.

Once they had me lying down they strapped my arms to the table, put a heart monitor on me, started my IV and put oxygen in my nose.  I don't remember any of this happening with Ashley so it was a much scarier experience.

I remember feeling very tired and a little nauseated at times.  A nice nurse by the name of Nicole brought me a cool cloth for my head which helped a lot!

At 8:40 am Dr. Galessiere pulled baby out and announced “It's a boy!”

They started to stitch me up and as I was starting to doze off, I heard them say the word "tumor" and "more time" and started to freak out!  I guess my heart monitor must have been going crazy because a nurse came over, held my hand and told me to go to sleep.  I didn't but I relaxed a little.  (Afterwards we found out that I had a dormid (?) tumor on my left ovary)  So after and extra 30 minutes of being "open" on the table they finally started to stitch me up.

When they wheeled me back into my room I noticed that Ryan was grunting while breathing. They had a monitor hooked up to Ryan to monitor his breathing and heart rate.  Ryan was 8lbs when he was born and had NO fat on him :)  He was one of the tiniest looking babies I had ever seen.

Ryan's grunting gradually got better although it was still there.  They assured us that he was alright and by the time we left to go home it was gone completely.

On Friday Dr. Horne came in to check on us and to say that we could go home whenever we wanted although if we wanted to stay another night that was perfectly fine. After discussing it we decided we would stay in the hospital for one more night.

Throughout the day the thought kept going through my mind that maybe we should go home.  At 7:30 pm I decided I would probably be more comfortable at home so we checked with the nurses.  Well, bad news. They said that although the papers were ready for me to go home, Ryan's papers weren't there. That meant that a doctor had to come in and check him out before we could leave.  At this point I really wanted to go home so they said they would see what they could do.  About an hour later the doctor showed up, checked Ryan out and said that we were good to go.  YAY! So we packed everything up and headed home!

I am so blessed to be the mom to this wonderful, loving, energetic not-so-little boy.


Saturday, June 23, 2012


My beautiful daughter turns 6 today - *GASP* - where did the time go?!?!

Well in honor of her birthday I thought I would share her birth story with you.


Ashley's due date was June 7th (according to the ultrasound).  Well that date came and went with nothing happening except for the regular evening contractions that were consistently 7 minutes apart.  But when I woke up in the morning, everything was back to normal.  My feet were swollen and it was hard to walk, but we walked & walked & walked.

Wednesday June 21, 2006 – only 14 days after my due date, we had another doctor's appointment.  The doctors checked me out and signed a form to start the induction process at 6:00pm.  I was given strict instructions to go home, eat, keep my feet up and rest.

At 6:00 pm off to the hospital we went.  After filling out lots of paperwork we went up to the 2nd floor. Then they had me change into a gown and took my blood pressure and other vitals. They gave me a drug called cervidel which was supposed to start labor. Then they hooked me up to monitors to monitor my contractions.  Sometime shortly after that I had another contraction – but this one was 8 minutes long!  So they were a little concerned and watch the monitors for a bit.  By 10:00 nothing serious was happening and someone else was coming in to have a baby so they sent us home and told us to be back at 7:30 the next morning.

The next morning we got to the hospital at 7:30 and were told that there was no room for us. So we had to wait a while till they had discharged someone. Originally they were going to send us to Winnipeg, but our doctor fought for us and said that we had to be in Steinbach.  Once we got into a room I was hooked up to all the monitors and an pictocin IV.  With this medication I had to have a nurse with me all the time.  Once they upped the meds a couple of times I started to have contractions, but nothing that really made me uncomfortable or have pain. One of my contractions lasted 5 minutes and again the nurses were concerned so they took me off the medication for about 1 ½ hours.  I pretty much stayed in bed all day except for a few bathroom breaks.  At around 5:00 they took me off the drug again because the nurse that was with me was at the end of her shift. I was off the IV for about 45 minutes while I ate supper and till they found someone else to monitor me.  They called everyone who wasn't working to try and find someone to come in and sit with me, but no luck. It looked like they would have to send me home and we would have to start the whole process over the next day.

Luckily for us a friend of ours had surgery that day and his wife worked in L & D.  Since she was at the hospital anyway, she agreed to sit and monitor me. Well she stayed till 9:00pm and though my contractions were getting more intense nothing was moving along.  I was on the maximum amount of pictocin that they can give and they were all shocked that nothing was happening.  They called our doctor and we waited for a little while longer to see if anything would happen.  Around 10:30 the nurse came in and said that we needed to talk about a c-section.  I was terrified and wasn't sure what to say. The nurse said that with each contraction the baby's heartbeat would go down and not come back up as quickly as they would like.  The nurse called our doctor again and she and Craig decided that they would administer the cervidel again to see what would happen.  That night was definitely NOT restful since the nurses came in to check my vitals about every 1/2 hour.

By 7:00 the next morning, nothing had changed and they decided to do a c-section.  Again I got kicked out of my room because another woman was having a baby.  Around 8:30 they moved me into a private room and prepped me for surgery.  They tried to get the catheater in 6 times and failed at EACH attempt.  (The doctor assisting with the surgery, introduced himself and asked if his intern Curtis could be present to watch. At that point I would have been okay with all the hospital staff watching.)

The operating room is was a very bright and very cold room.  They gave me the spinal and before they could get me lying down I could feel my body starting to numb up.  The anesthesiologist was on my left side by my head and told me exactly what was going on.  About 10 minutes in the anesthesiologist told me that I was
going to feel lots of pressure on my chest as they pushed and pulled out:  A GIRL!

Dr. Galessiere (the surgeon) said that Ashley never would have been born naturally because the umbilical cord was wrapped around her chest.

So that is the l-o-n-g story of how our little baby girl came into the world.

I am SO proud of her and the beautiful young woman she has become.