My Story, From The Beginning, Part 2

Awaken the Diet Within: From Overweight to Looking Great-If I Can Do It, So Can You
By Julia Griggs Havey

(Page 2 of 2)

I didn't know my mother very well; I have seen her only a few times since my parents divorced. I do remember her, though, as the outwardly perfect southern woman, very graceful and charming to others. I felt that joining her old sorority would somehow make us closer. Growing up without her all those years, I wanted more of a connection to her. I never told anyone why this was so important to me; everyone thought I just wanted the social fun of belonging to a sorority, but to me it meant more-a lot more. I would share something with my mother that was a huge part of her life. Joining that sorority and being part of that group was all I wanted out of college.

I guess I thought that would make up for the mother I didn't have. When I began college, I was much too immature and unprepared to be on my own. I had no clue what I wanted to be when I grew up, or even if I wanted to grow up. My ignorance during those days stretched so far as to question my friend Betsy, who knew that she wanted to become an engineer. I thought, Why in the world would she want to operate a train? My grades in high school reflected my don't-give-a-darn attitude at the time, and therefore the sorority system that I so desperately wanted to be part of turned up its nose at me-Ouch! They pushed my dreams aside without so much as a chance to prove myself worthy. I had blown my chances without even knowing it.

I was miserable at college. I felt like everyone belonged to something except me. I really tried to fit into the college scene, but it never seemed to work for me. I became very depressed and plunged farther into my eating disorders. I even dabbled with bulimia. My dad insisted that I pull myself together, that I tell my professors I was sorry and would work hard to make up the work I had missed. But it wasn't as if I had the confidence to walk up to a professor and admit erring. That was my whole problem. I lacked any belief in myself or my abilities, academically or personally. I allowed not getting into a sorority to eat me up inside. I felt like a big loser.

At one point, though, I did manage to confront my philosophy teacher. He was understanding; perhaps he knew that my self-esteem was very low. He convinced me to stick with school and try. He would rank as one of those wonderful people whom I have been lucky enough to encounter along the way who really cared about me and tried to get me to see that I was more than what I gave myself credit for.

After a few more years of the same, my dad eventually tired of my academic-probation status and suggested I take a break-maybe to become a stewardess. So I left school in hopes that change would do me good. I was accepted for the stewardess position, and it gave me great happiness to have been accepted-I finally belonged to an elite group. There was the weight requirement, though, and as time went on I noticed (as did my boss) that I was always on the high end, literally, of the acceptable weight limit. Much like at the air force bases, when I was the boss's daughter, I caught a lot of flack now. My dad ran the airport in St. Louis and this was the largest airline in the city.

It was always "She's his kid," or "Wonder how you got the job?" So much for fitting in and being accepted. But that didn't keep me from having a great time. I really loved the job and I was good at it as well.

To me, it was like hosting a dinner party every night: It was my job to make sure that all passengers not only got to their destinations safely, but also had a great time getting there. I was beginning to realize my strengths: I was social, not academic. I loved working first class on the long flights-the airline's service was very elaborate then (and so was the food).

The layovers as a stewardess (of course, "flight attendant" now) were a blast. We went sight-seeing in different cities and participated in a lot of social activities. One such layover in Hawaii, coupled with too much sun, made for a very long flight home. I remember passengers feeling so sorry for my sunburned and blistered legs that they took out their aloe and rubbed me down.

My more professional crew members didn't enjoy my style. I thought that they believed I shouldn't be having fun because I was bordering the weight limit, and that I should take this matter seriously.

I missed the point. It wasn't my weight that they took issue with; it was my lack of maturity and decorum. I thought then that everything revolved around my weight.

The variety of restaurants across the country made for great eating. My years in college had conditioned me for eating to feel good. Too good, in my case-I started filling out. Much to my embarrassment, my male boss summoned me to his office so that he could weigh me, asking, "Hop on the scale, Miss Griggs."

Weighing in was a serious matter. If I was too heavy, I could be grounded or put on weight check. For years I struggled to control my eating and maintain my weight. Laxatives became a food group for me. I didn't think I looked overweight back then, and I had only the airline's rules to keep me in check.

Out at the bars one night during an airline strike, I met a union man who kept giving me a hard time about crossing the picket line and not supporting my union. He was handsome, in a burly sort of way, and I suggested he try to change my mind over dinner. Laughing to my friends, I joked, "Watch me fall for this one!" You guessed it: I married him. We had a great time together. My weight started creeping up after one year of marriage-I was at about 160 pounds, compared to 135 when we married.

In hindsight, I am not sure how in love I really was. I think that even my decision to marry was mostly a matter of acceptance. My husband told me on our first date that his "wife and children would always come first." That sounded great to me.

To my relief, I became pregnant just at the time the airline would have required me to lose fifteen pounds. I now had a license to eat. I remember thinking, "Hey, I can gain all the weight I want now and the airline can't do a thing about it." Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face-or, in my case, to stuff my face!

And stuff it I did. I was eating for two, wasn't I? Two pastries, two sundaes; I took full advantage of the situation. I wonder if any of my first-class passengers noticed that their dessert offerings were skimpier on my flights than on others. And, although I gained sixty-five pounds during my pregnancy, I didn't feel fat; I felt amazing. I thought I was the cutest pregnant lady ever and dismissed the weight gain, convinced that the reason I had gotten so big was that the next NFL superstar was in my womb. I guess I didn't realize that it isn't physically possible to "carry" in the rear end-my biggest part. I had a tiny baby girl-six pounds, three ounces. Hardly big enough to justify sixty-five pounds of weight gain. So, along with my beautiful baby I brought home fifty-plus pounds from the hospital.

Being fat rarely entered my mind. I basked in the joys of motherhood. I loved it! And since I was breast-feeding, of course I needed extra nutrition to produce enough milk. Bring on the buffet. Needless to say, I wasn't one of those women who are able to wear their prematernity clothes within weeks of delivery.

I gave up my flying career after accepting an early-retirement offer. Good thing I didn't return to my job as a stewardess, because I never could have squeezed into my uniform. I enjoyed my time off with my baby Taylor and I had actually started to trim down. My ten-year high school reunion was that summer and I starved myself until I could wear this super little red dress. Even though I was bigger than I was when I was in high school, I thought I looked great.

I loved being a stay-at-home mom. I could have done it forever if we could have afforded it. Instead, I entered the nine-to-five, sit-on-your-butt-all-day business world. My thighs and rear end thrived in this environment. I nibbled on snacks all day. My only exercise was walking to the snack machine-little wonder that I kept getting bigger.

My reunion weight-loss diet was thrown out the window, and I added a few more pounds. Despite my weight gain, things were looking up. I had found my calling at this job: sales. I had finally found a job where my gift of gab didn't get me in trouble, but actually made me successful.

I am a born salesperson. I really loved what I was doing for a living. It was a great feeling being good at my job and enjoying it. The only problem for me was that my desk job was so sedentary.

As a flight attendant I moved around the airplane all day and walked a lot in the cities I stayed in. I was never a jogger or an exercise type of person, but at least I was moving. The most physical activity I got then was taking the baby to the park-I would walk from the car to the bench and sit down. Sometimes I even pushed her on the swings. It never even dawned on me to consider adding exercise to my routine. My husband didn't get any exercise; it just wasn't part of our lifestyle. We went out to eat for our socializing. We didn't even do that as often as we used to. I wasn't into the party lifestyle anymore, and I longed to be at home with my daughter when I wasn't working. Given my lack of movement and my increased appetite, I gradually kept getting bigger-it happens so slowly that you hardly notice the pounds creeping up. It starts with a belt that is too tight here, an old pair of jeans that you can't zip up there. The new clothes I bought were more comfortable a size or two bigger. Before I knew it, all of my clothes had become the new baggy look. Eventually they seemed to have shrunk and then it was back to the tight look again.

I really thought that the problem wasn't me, that they didn't make clothes like they used to. I certainly never set out to become obese. It just happened-one bite at a time.

Copyright © 2002 by Julia Griggs Havey

About the Author

JULIA GRIGGS HAVEY