Before the First Scroll

It was January, 2004. I was living in New Mexico in the first apartment I had ever lived in alone. I loved that apartment; partly because it was so cute and simple, partly because I found it and lived in it, all on my own. I remember the most unique (the only unique) feature of this apartment was the mirrors. One whole wall in the living room was floor to ceiling mirrors. Not the slightly yellowed, slightly warped, 70s trashy mirrors… no, these were bright, clear, clean mirrors that enhanced the new carpet and freshly painted walls. My bedroom closet doors were also sliding mirrors. All of this glass certainly expanded the size of my $465 a month living space.

I was about to start my second semester of graduate school. My boyfriend at the time, who was just about to graduate from college, had come down from Minnesota to visit me for a long weekend before winter break ended for both of us.

It was Saturday night, his last night in town before he left the next morning, and we were on our way out to Johnny Carino’s, a new restaurant that had just opened down the street. I had already eaten there several times … mainly because of their bread. Their bread was AMAZING. I would eat three loaves of that bread before I had even opened the menu. Best. Bread. Ever. (This was BEFORE Texas Roadhouse opened – they REALLY have the best bread).

I was in my bedroom digging through my closet with the mirrors on the doors. It was one of those evenings where I could not find a single thing I was in the mood to wear. I didn’t want to wear jeans because this was supposed to be “fancy” (and plus they didn’t fit). I didn’t want to wear a short skirt because it was a little chilly out (and plus it didn’t fit). I had a pink sweater in the closet that didn’t quite look right.. too pink (and plus it didn’t fit).

I pulled out some charcoal gray pants that I had purchased at the Mall of America when I was in MN for Christmas. They were size 12, but that really didn’t mean anything BAD because I had purchased them at a “junior-ish” store where all of the sizes were a little off … (Maurices ... definitely NOT a juniors store).

These would be perfect.

I pulled them on … well, I tried. After a bit of an aerobic workout, I finally pulled them all the way up my legs and to my waist. I groaned and squeezed and clenched and willed the pants to clasp. Poor charcoal pants, when they finally DID clasp, they visibly showed the stress they were under. They stretched and puckered across my hips. They squished and squeezed my butt. The only place there was any extra fabric was in the only place I didn’t need it … in the length. Yes these pants extended a full four inches past my ankles.

I looked at myself in the mirrored door of my bedroom closet. It wasn’t pretty… It was war. But similar to when the United States invaded Kuwait sometime in the early 90s, it was over before it even started. The pants won.

It is a wonder, really, with mirrors everywhere, that I didn’t notice my rapidly growing waistline, or the increased amount of “junk” in my “trunk” before this moment.

I collapsed, sobbing and defeated, to the new carpet in my apartment bedroom. I cried and cried and when my boyfriend came into the room to ask what was the matter, I cried even harder. I didn’t want to tell him that I was fat – just in case he hadn’t figured it out yet. I instead told him I didn’t have anything to wear, and that everyone was going to look at me at Johnny Carino’s and make fun of the girl who doesn’t have a single cute outfit (that fits) in her entire closet.

He, of course, told me I was beautiful. Told me to put on some sweat pants, he would pick up a pizza and a movie and we would enjoy each other in the comfort of my sweet little apartment.

A few minutes later he left to pick up the pizza and movies. It was just me in my apartment. Suddenly the apartment I loved became cruel game in which I was merely a (chubby) pawn. Everywhere I turned there were mirrors waiting to show me the me I had been choosing to ignore when I made Pizza Rolls in the middle of the night, or spooned up a tub of Ben & Jerry’s every time I had to read a chapter (keep in mind … I was in grad school – all you do is read chapters). I threw on my sweats and sat on the futon staring squarely forward where there was no mirror, no facing reality. Just the television.

Fortunately Blockbuster wasn’t far, and the boyfriend returned before there were anymore breakdowns. We ate pizza, watched the first two installments of XMen, and went to bed. The next morning I dropped him off at the airport. When I returned home, the mirrors were waiting.

I decided I couldn’t hide from them forever… I had to know the truth.

I went into the bathroom. Wiped the dust off the scale, and stepped on.

156.

I am 5’4”.

156 is not good.

I looked up from the scale... only to be face to face with yet another mirror. I saw myself for the first time and knew that enough was enough. I must change.
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In a recent interview Tony Robbins, personal growth guru, become awesome expert, super-hero-ify yourself maniac said (oh so wisely I might add): in order for your resolutions to become realities, your "shoulds" have to become "musts."

From 'I should pay off my credit card' to 'I must pay off my credit card.'
From 'I should be nicer to my spouse' to 'I must be nicer to my spouse.'
From 'I should become a great author' to 'I must become a great author.'

From my experience, the distance from 'should' to 'must' is a span of time, desire, determination, and discipline. Some people cover that distance quickly, for others it takes longer but one thing is constant: no one ever creates reality out of resolutions without consistent, unstoppable effort. For this reason some ... never make it.
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The story of the Greatest Salesman in the World (according to Kindra) starts with a young camelboy. This camelboy has been working for quite some time, for the Greatest Salesman in the World. He travels with the Salesman, and many of the Salesman's salesmen from city to city. The camelboy tends the camels while the salesmen sell. For the most part things have been going pretty well for this camelboy; he likes his boss, he isn't mistreated, and he enjoys the exciting bustle of the cities to which the Greatest Salesman and his crew travel. Perhaps the camelboy daydreams about one day becoming a salesman, maybe he thinks of it from time to time. He might have even listed it as one of his new year's resolutions. He never, however, took any serious action.

Then one day, the camelboy meets a girl.

She is the most beautiful girl he has ever known. She steals his heart, she has his soul. Our camelboy knows that a day without her is a day he would rather be dead. There was just one problem... this girl, this sun in his sky, this breath of life, was the daughter of a mighty ruler. A king. Surely, she would never be allowed to marry a camelboy. To have her, he knew he had no choice...

He must change.
He must become the Greatest Salesman in the World.

When the camelboy approaches his master with this desire, the Greatest Salesman in the World is surprised at the sudden change in ambition. The camelboy insists. The Greatest Salesman in the World agrees... but warns the young man:

"The rewards are great if one succeeds, but the rewards are great only because so few succeed."

What it takes to succeed is time, desire, determination, and discipline. To master all of these elements, the camelboy is eventually given the 10 ancient scrolls with whose wisdom, practiced daily, one can become the greatest salesman in the world.
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That day I, looking in that mirror, I made a decision. I must lose weight.

I must... and while I think about how I'm going to do that, I should return the XMen DVDs.

As I headed toward my car, DVDs in hand, I remembered it only takes a matter of moments to get to Blockbuster by car ... it couldn't be THAT bad on foot.

"I must lose weight" echoed in my ears.

I walked back up the stairs to my second (and Top!) floor apartment, traded my sandals for sneakers, and took my first walk since I had moved to the desert. I returned the videos on foot, and on the way home, I took an unnecessary lap around the park, just for good measure.

Over the course of the next five months I wrote down everything I ate. I went walking, then skipping, then running in the desert. I rode my bike to school and home again and I rented movies often, ALWAYS returning them on foot. Slowly but surely I started to fit into every outfit in my closet ... and then they stopped fitting again.

From January to May, I went from 156 pounds to 127 (well, 125 one day because I had a little flu bug). I went from a size 12 pants to a size 4.

Yes, it felt good. But most importantly, I learned what it meant to go from 'should' to 'must.'