Shoe blues weight loss/gain news

I am soooo cranky today and it's the first beautiful day we've had in a week or two [Disclaimer: I started this yesterday] and that makes me even crankier that I'm cranky on such a nice day! I think part of my crankiness stems from my diet. You know, food is my weakness. There's just always a reason to eat. And I'm a huge stress eater. And according to my scale, I've been stressed for three years. And we've had the store for three years. Hmmmm.
Well, before the store opened, I got a divorce and quit my state job, benefits and all.(Weight Gain 10 pounds). Once the store opened, I was so happy.(Weight loss 10 pounds). But then, the recession hit. I was like Lloyd Bridges's character in "Airplane!" --"Looks like I picked the wrong year to start retail!" (Weight gain 10 pounds). Then I decided to quit wallowing in wallow. (Weight loss 7 pounds). But then, I found out that I had to have a hysterectomy.
Believe me, I was happy to have the procedure, but I decided to wait 6 months until our slow season, right after the holidays. Now how could I possibly diet knowing that I was going to have my insides taken out? (Weight gain, 15 pounds). Oh sure, I lost part of the weight I gained the following summer (weight loss 8 pounds), but then we decided to relocate. Talk about stress! (Weight gain 7 pounds). Then I tried to follow a routine (weight loss 2 pounds), but the truth is, I never felt quite at home there. (Weight gain 5 pounds). And then we moved again! (Weight gain, 5 pounds). Well imagine my surprise when I couldn't fit into any of my clothes! Yes, I was surprised because the clothes I had were my fat clothes from last summer. And apparently, I was in denial. Actually I was also in spandex, which really helps with denial, because if something has even 2% spandex, you can stretch it to fit. So I went back to Weight Watchers. I figure if I pay someone else to watch my weight, I tend to lose it easier. It's called paying the piper. So I played this game. They were not allowed to tell me how much I weighed, they could only tell me whether I went up or down. The first week wasn't great, but I went down, just a smidge. The next week I felt confident -- I had exercised and watched what I ate. "Down!" She exclaimed. I was excited. "Really? How much??" I asked, eager to hear the dramatic results. ".08" Well that put me in a tailspin. A lousy eight-tenths of a pound? What the hell? If I had not tried, I would have been thrilled with that, but I did try! I really worked at it. I even skipped my favorite beer when I went out to eat and got a salad instead of a three cheese individual pizza. (This was in part because when I went to the bathroom, I noticed the toilet paper holder had a spare roll. My favorite beer is Fat Tire. Spare roll? Fat Tire? I took it as a warning to be good.

Well, the next week I had a doctor's appointment and since they always add at least 5 pounds to the scale there, I just held my head high -- high enough so I wouldn't see the scale-- and told them I didn't want to face the ugly truth. Which was that I had gained 12 pounds in 2 years, but since I didn't look two years ago, I still only had a vague idea of my actual weight. Finally the following week, I went back to weigh in. She looked happy. "Down!" I had almost given up hope. "How much?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the total. "Two pounds!" Two pounds! I was triumphant. Two pounds! Alone in my car, I mustered up the courage to peek at my weight. HOLY S***! It was awful. I had no idea I weighed that much! I hadn't weighed near that amount since 1997. After seeing my weight, I had plummeted from the top of the world to the depths of hell. "I HATE EVERYTHING!" Of course, I still hadn't come to terms with the fact that it was my choice to wait in line for an eternity for the double dipped chocolate cone at Dairy Queen's drive-in, as was it my choice to test every restaurant in our strip mall, as was it my choice to eat a bag of Cheetoh's for dinner. (They were puffed, so half of them were air.) And what do I really have to complain about? I have a great job, great friends, a great house, great pets -- no love life, but I was married, so being single is really appealing to me right now. But I'm not perfect, and I want to be. And perfect to me is 20 pounds lighter. Once I lose that, I'll find fault with something else, I'm sure, but I'll be thin, so how bad could anything else be?
So anyway, that's where shoes come in. Many of you have seen the book we sell at ShoeTopia, "The Shoe Diet", in which the author uses her love of shoes as inspiration to lose weight. For example, whenever she felt tempted to cheat, she'd surf the net and look at shoes to keep herself on track, since shoes would be her reward when she reached certain goals. I think this is a fabulous idea, but since I have a shoe store and have shoes staring me in the face 6 days a week, I find it virtually impossible to wait to get them until I lose a few pounds. So I came up with a better idea. One of our customers had told us that every inch of heel height makes you lose five pounds -- visually, anyway. And it makes perfect sense too. Think about it --the healthy weight range for someone who is 5'8" is higher than it is for someone who is 5'4." And what easier way to lose weight than to slip on a pair of 4" platforms? Look -- I lost 20 pounds! Finally, a diet I can enjoy! Sure, it's a yo-yo diet, but hardly hazardous to my health. (A podiatrist may beg to differ, but hey, everyone has to have something fun!)