I have always wanted to see whales in person. I have often told my husband this, yet he misses the hint and we have never gone. When we went to Hawaii last month, I heard people saying they could see whales from our hotel balcony, but I never did.

I thought of booking us on a whale watching cruise, but since it was April and theoretically whales have already mostly left the Hawaiian islands, I didn't want to spend the money on a while whale hunt.

Recently, two humpback whales ventured inland in California. They ended up in the deep water channel of my city. We are 90 miles inland, and it was a quite a shock to all of us. I really wanted to go see them and even contemplated keeping my kids out of school for a few hours so we could go see the whales. But I didn't.

I wanted to see them a day later, taking the kids after school, but then I read that experts were saying all the foot traffic on the levees around the water might be distracting to the whales. They encouraged people to stay away. So I did.

I thought after the weekend, I would take the kids and we would go anyway. I've always wanted to see whales, I reasoned, and thousands of people were making the pilgrimage each day to see them. Many people were coming from miles around to see them.Why not us?

Tonight, I was delighted to learn that the whales had finally begun the long trek back to the ocean. Nobody knows quite why and I am actually saying a little prayer that the mom and baby make it home safely and especially get back into salt water so their wounds can heal. But I was also quite sad and found myself tearful upon hearing the news.

Why?

I realized that my wanting to see the whales and not going out to see them is like a metaphor for my life, especially when it comes to weight loss. I *want* to do the right thing, but always fail at the crucial moment when I can do something to make a difference. I have good intentions, but often lose interest, or the ability, to make my plans a reality.

It might not seem like a good connection, but to me, my desire to see the whales in person, to finally see these great creatures up close, and not do it says volumes about other failures in my life.

I may never be a size 2, or even a 10 for that matter, but I have to prove to myself that I am worthy of the whales, of everything in life that I want. If I want weight loss, I have to get in the car, make the drive and take that walk. I must do it for me.

Have you ever been able to turn on a light switch with your butt? I can, and do often. Not on purpose, of course, but accidentally when bending over to put dirty laundry into my front-load machine. The laundry room is small and often my butt will hit the opposite wall and turn the light on, or the fan switch next to it.

It's when that happens (at least several times a week) that I am reminded I am fat. I don't need reminders, really. When you're this big, you are aware each time you get dressed, see your reflection in the car or a window, or feel left out by people too important to pay attention your obese self.

But it reminds me how fat I have gotten and I wonder if I can ever crawl out of this hole. This is a big hole, one that often shows me no daylight. It's very lonely in here, and sometimes hopeless.
I recently returned from a trip to Hawaii. I spent hundreds of dollars on clothes just to make me feel like I might fit in. I posted a message on a weight loss message board asking for suggestions for bathing suits. One person opined that while there would be a lot of hard bodies there, I would also find many people "just like" me.

I don't know where that poster stayed on her last trip to Hawaii, but where I stayed, it was all hard bodies. I think perhaps of the dozens of women I saw at the pool each day, there were 2 or 3 that even wore one pieces. It was bikini central. What did I wear? A plain black tank suit from Lands End and a pair of Eddie Bauer water shorts, with a nice, 9" inseam. Since I hadn't worn a swimsuit since I was 18, I was proud of myself for putting myself out there and getting into the water. Once in the water, though, I wouldn't get out until I had to. I felt like all eyes were on me.

So what is my situation? I am 5'7" (I think) and about 260 pounds. I haven't weighed since I got back home and I may have lost weight, though I think it's more likely I gained or remained steady.

Why this blog? I am a writer by nature and profession and I believe strongly in the cathartic nature of "getting it all out". I intend to take readers on a ride with me. At this time I don't plan to join a weight loss program, but rather try to eat right and (most important) MOVE. I might fail -- I certainly have many times before. I might then join a weight loss program. Maybe I'll opt to have surgery. I will do whatever I have to do to get healthy and to live past the age of 50. My kids really adore me and I owe it to them to be the mom they deserve.