The Final Sailing Trip

Many of you have written to ask how my gentleman friend is doing after the boating accident. He has recovered amazingly well! 

Mr. Mickey will be seventy-nine years old in June. Three years ago, he had a stroke, which left him in ICU for almost a week. He is also a diabetic with very high blood pressure and other health problems starting to slow him down. After the stroke, we both embarked upon a healthier eating journey. (Thanks to the book "Eat to Live.") 

I am telling you all of this to share with you that it's never too late to change the eating habits that might contribute to your poor health. 

We have both lost about forty pounds since changing our choices of food a couple of years ago. Mickey has almost reversed his diabetes, and his blood pressure is at the perfect level, corrected with only a fourth of the medication once required. The other health problems have vanished.   

A few weeks ago, after the boating accident, he very nearly drowned; he is back to wanting to go somewhere special every night and laughing and telling stories non-stop. 

This past week he completed the last of his follow-up visits with his physicians here in the states. In only a few weeks, his broken ribs and kneecap, along with numerous lacerations and deep bruises, have healed. His physicians were totally amazed by his speedy and complete recovery at an age when most men would have had a much longer and more difficult time after such severe trauma. They all agreed that his food choices have contributed greatly to his rapid recovery.

If you missed the first post sharing the misadventure, here it is again...

My beloved gentleman friend, Mr. Mickey, has had the same group of friends for most of his life. For more than thirty years, they have gotten together for lunch a couple of times every week. They have enjoyed countless ski vacations, tennis trips, and Caribbean sailing trips aboard a chartered catamaran Captained by a member of this group of lifelong friends.

The group spends the week sailing from one harbor to another, creating great memories to share again and again.

Along the craggy shores of the British Virgin Islands, there are vacation homes and villas for those who prefer to enjoy the view from the land.

A smaller dingy boat is used to deliver the men ashore

where there is no dock in a shallow harbor.

The men occasionally stop for a sip of something cold late in the afternoon.

As the sun starts to descend into the horizon, it's time to make their way into a harbor for dining in one of the many nice restaurants dotting the shores along most of the larger islands.

Casual attire is perfectly acceptable for fine dining in the islands since the sailors often arrive cold and wet from their ride aboard a dingy from their sailboats and catamarans.

As the tides shift and in certain harbors, much larger waves suddenly start rolling in with little notice. A calm and peaceful shore can become a dangerous and even deadly place to be in a few seconds.

The evening quickly changed from sharing a wonderful meal and joking with friends to clinging to life.

The group boarded the dinghy to make their way back to their temporary home aboard the catamaran. Suddenly a much larger wave rose up from the darkness flipping the small boat end over end violently dumping all five men into the sea. Mickey and one other man remained trapped beneath the upturned dinghy. The other man was able to free himself and make his way to shore. One of Mickey's arms had become entangled in the towing line so he could make no such escape. The tides washed the small boat back and forth on the rocky beach dragging him trapped underneath. His strength was gone, and the pocket of air trapped beneath the boat was vanishing quickly. A final desperate gulp of air, seawater, and sand allowed him to yell for help one last time. The other men finally realized he was still trapped beneath the boat and were at last able to establish a footing in the raging surf to pull him to safety.

Trembling with shock from their injuries and the trauma of what had just happened, the group knew right away that Mickey needed immediate medical help.

After a day spent in an island hospital getting wounds bandaged and x-rays of broken ribs, it was time to make the long journey home alone for further medical attention from his own physicians and specialists here in the states.

Mickey's daughter and I picked him up at the airport at midnight on the following day. She told him through her tears, "You are grounded!"

The fellows will be telling this story for years to come, but I think perhaps Mickey will choose to stay home when they embark on their next adventure.

Frumpy No More

This is me in 1998, forty-two years old, five feet six inches tall, and weighing two hundred pounds. Those pants are a size 18.

My life was crumbling, and sadness oozed from every pore. I hated my job but was too deep in debt to start over in another. My then-husband was having an affair with a much younger and more fun woman. I was grieving for the children and family I would never have. In short, my life was a big mess! I cried every single day... sometimes all day long. 

When I hit rock bottom, I decided to change everything that I had the power to change. I started to eat more vegetables and fewer heavy late-in-the-day meals. I started walking. At first, I had difficulty walking to the end of the block. Soon, I was walking for a couple of miles every day. The weight started to come off, and I began formulating a plan to survive this difficult time. 

After the marriage ended, I moved to the New Orleans area. Of course, that was not the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but it was an immensely better life than the one I left behind in Virginia. I made new friends and joined two gyms. My walks turned into five-mile runs, and my time in the gym filled the massive void in my life. 

This photo was taken at the peak of my bodybuilding obsession. I'm forty-five in this photo, weighing one hundred and thirty-five pounds. I'm still an empty shell of a human, but at least I look better!

In 2003, I left New Orleans and returned to my hometown in the mountains of east Tennessee. Some bumpy roads were still ahead, but I was home with my family and owned a successful business.

I'm telling you my life story for a reason. I hope you will read this and say if she can do it, I can! 

Change it if you are unhappy with some part of your life or body. Take little steps every day. Soon, you will be running (if not literally, then figuratively). Think of food as the fuel it is. Don't let it be your comfort and your entertainment. If you want to be healthy and thinner, you must make wiser choices about the foods and quantities you eat daily. The other twenty-two hours a day are worth making a few changes in your food choices.

The photo above is a more recent photo taken just before my fifty-sixth birthday at one hundred and

forty-two pounds. Those pants are a size 4!

My life truly began at fifty. I've never been happier or more healthy than I am right now. Not that being thin is the answer to all life's problems, but when you can sleep well at night without being in pain or struggling to breathe, you can make better choices during your waking hours. Sometimes, things are better than they seem after a good night's sleep.

I hope my story touches the lives of people going through something similar. I share fashion tips and my personal tragedies and triumphs, hoping to inspire you to improve your life. 

What Villa?

My classmates and I were in a social science class in seventh grade. We were having a discussion about what our lives might be like at the turn of the century. That fateful day was about thirty years away. My little girl dreams came from the only small-town life I had ever known. I envisioned a life with a loving husband in a white two-story house in the suburbs of a large city far away. Our children, a boy and a girl played with a golden retriever underneath the oak trees at the edge of our lawn. Simple, sweet, secure was how I saw my destiny.

When the waning years of the last century finally arrived, they found me not in a happy home but in the middle of an agonizing divorce from the man I loved so much; my heartfelt as if it would implode. Even after more than thirteen years of emotional abuse, I still loved him. As he drove off into the sunset with his young girlfriend, I stood at the jagged edge of the end of my world.

I had invested everything I could borrow and every ounce of energy I possessed into our home and my jewelry design business. When our marriage ended, I had no reliable income to speak of yet. I had just begun to show at the Fashion Markets, and the boutiques were finally starting to buy my work. I had no savings, insurmountable debt, and no place to go. When we sold our home and almost everything we owned, there still wasn't enough to pay for all we owed.

At forty-five years old, I was deeply in debt, homeless, and emotionally destroyed. When an old friend offered me a place to live in exchange for caring for him during his last years of life, I felt as if an angel had offered me his hand.

 Many years have passed since that ultimate sadness.

My villa in the snow.

At last, I have a home of my own. It's only a few miles away from that classroom where I dreamed of a happy life so long ago. There are no children, and there is no dog. There isn't even an oak tree. Those dreams of a family of my own never came true, but I do own two businesses, and I am happy spending time with my dear Mr. Mickey. 

I am very grateful for this part of my life, but it is different from the one I imagined in my youth's restless dreams. 

C'est la vie.