One of the things I've been doing this summer is getting in shape. I've hesitated to write about it, because I wanted to make sure I could do it, and because I really, really hate talking about weight loss issues.

But after having Hideo, I realized that I needed to decide what kind of life I want to have. I've always had a fairly positive relationship with my body. I've never felt like I was grossly overweight or anything. I've always been a healthy person with low blood pressure and low cholesterol, even at my heaviest. I've only had one doctor suggest I need to lose weight, and I hated her already, so I didn't take what she said seriously. (And switched from her ob/gyn practice to the nurse midwives at Illinois Masonic who I love, love, love.)

The fact is, however, that my mom died of metastatic breast cancer. She was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 45, and fought the disease for ten long years. Her last year of life was one spent in excruciating pain.

I will never get over losing her. I don't want to do that to my kids, if I can help it. And, selfishly, I don't want to suffer the way she suffered.

I want to meet my grandchildren. My mom didn't get to meet Todd or my kids. She wasn't at my wedding. And that sucks.

So I joined Weight Watchers in April. I had never had any interest in a commercial weight loss program, but I knew that Weight Watchers was more about long term health versus quick, short term weight loss. And my dear friend Kris joined WW and went from a size 16 to a size 4. She looks amazing. She and I were the same size, and now we're not! She inspired me a great deal.

But my greatest inspiration is my kids. Anytime I think I'm sick of worrying about what I eat or how much I exercise, I think about Emiko and Hideo. And I repeat my mantra -- I want to meet my grandchildren. It's worked well for me so far. My motivation is really high.

I've lost 40 pounds. Yay! I have 30 pounds to go to get to my goal. The day my Wii Fit avatar went from calling me "obese" to merely "overweight" was a really great day. The day that damn avatar calls me "healthy" will be even better.

I can't control much in this world. I can't control if I get cancer or not. I might get hit by a bus tomorrow. But I can control what I eat and how much I exercise. And if it helps, then it's worth it.

I'm not going to lie to you, though. It's hard. It was really hard the first month. The first two weeks I thought I would starve to death. Thank God for air popped popcorn. I ate a lot of that the first two weeks. I'm amazed at how little I eat these days.

In the past, I would go on a diet, and then I'd go off and do whatever I wanted to do. And gain back all the weight. Now that I'm on WW, I realize that this is not a diet, it's my new lifestyle. And it's for the rest of my life. Which is pretty daunting, but it's getting easier.

I promise that this will not turn into a diet blog. Blech blech blech. If we go out for lunch, I will not discuss fat grams or calories or WW points with you. I will probably never mention my new lifestyle again on this blog, except to mention when I get to my goal weight.

If we are having a conversation, and I start talking about calories or fat grams, you are welcome to smack me. Losing weight is not going to bring joy or happiness to my life, or change who I am. I have a ton of joy and happiness in my life already. It's just going to help me be healthier, hopefully. And I want to set a healthy example for my kids. But that's all I'm aiming for. I will only mention what I'm up to if you ask me.

You know, one of the reasons I resisted losing weight was that it makes me mad that as a woman, I'm supposed to be thin. My dad has been annoying me about my weight since before I was in high school. I was not fat in junior high or high school. But he ingrained in my head that I was. It made me mad, and I would often eat more just to spite him. Which is crazy, but it's true.

When I told my dad I was doing Weight Watchers, it was the happiest he's been with me in ages. He was so excited. It was irritating. And when I took Hideo to Arkansas earlier this month, it was the first time that people could actually tell I had lost some weight. My dad was so proud of  me. He went on and on about how great I looked and how happy he is. Seriously, I could win the Nobel prize, and my dad would still be happier that I was thinner. Made me want to eat a Snicker's bar in spite. (But I didn't.)

OK, so that's enough of that. Just wanted to fill you in. Now I'm done with this rhetoric. In conclusion, I'll just post this article that made me angry this morning. Really, "big attendants?" They couldn't use a more appropriate descriptor for the plus size flight attendants?