Viewing The Oprah Show
	I was on The Oprah Winfrey Show on November 28, 2007. If you'd like to view my weight-loss bio on Oprah.com, click here. Finally watching the Oprah show last Wednesday was a relief. As I said in an earlier blog, I don’t remember much about the actual experience except that I hugged Bob Greene and Oprah and said something about my workout. In the three weeks between the taping and the airing, I was sure I’d stood on that stage stiff as a board and quiet. Then I watched the show. My first response: Where the hell did those legs come from and where did I get all those teeth?! I moved across the stage like I had the right to be there and that surprised and delighted me. My body didn’t let me down, my smile didn’t let me down, the person I am on the inside didn’t let me down. In fact, she came out just the way I wanted and I didn’t even try. The nervous me was in my head, but the confident me did the talking. Thank God. Life post-Oprah continues to amaze me. I suspected a few people would write or call after seeing the show, but the response is more than I imagined. I’ve gotten hundreds of emails and phone calls and I’ve appreciated them all, especially the ones from long-lost friends and family members, and from strangers struggling with weight-loss issues. This has challenged me to think about how best to use this momentum to help people who face their own weight issues. More on that in a moment. I love to be a part of anything that unites family and friends, brings them out of the woodwork, like reunions or even funerals. I never in my wildest dreams imagined it would be because I was on Oprah. A few of my elapsed relationships that have been rekindled are with Teela in New Mexico, whom I’ve known since I was 5 and had no idea I was going to be on Oprah and happened to be watching it when I walked out on stage; Kayla in Texas, a good friend from high school, who confessed to reading my blogs but not writing as often as she’d like; Jason, my nephew in South Dakota, who shared with me his own weight-loss success: nearly 100 pounds lost; and Rhonda, a fellow flute player from junior high band who is now a doctor and living in Florida. My mother got an email from her cousin Nora in Texas whom she hasn’t seen in years. Nora got an email about the show from another of Mom’s cousins and the chain reaction began. Mom was very happy to be reconnected with Nora and no doubt they will get reacquainted through email. Thanks, Oprah! Then there are the strangers and online acquaintances who found me mostly through the Weight Watchers 100+ Pounds to Lose discussion board and my weight-loss website. They’ve shared with me their stories of weight gain and weight loss and many have told me that seeing me on Oprah helped them know that they can succeed, that it is possible to get to goal. Some have said that hearing my voice and seeing me “in person” helped them read the words on my website with more clarity because they now have a face to put with the words. I’ve said all along that if my weight-loss story can inspire just one person to take control of their weight and fitness, then telling it in any way I can is worth it. I’m merely paying a debt. I’m paying back the people who encouraged me and helped me reach my own goals. If I’ve inspired someone to lose weight, it’s because I was inspired to lose weight by someone else who lost weight. Losing weight, while a solitary physical act, does not have to take place in a vacuum. We all have questions, we all have doubts, we all have victories, both on and off the scale, that we want to celebrate with other people who “get it.” The people who inspired me also answered my questions, calmed my doubts, and celebrated with me. It’s my turn to do the same for others. Thus the challenge. I’ll be featured in People magazine’s Half Their Size special edition coming out at the end of this year or the first part of 2008 (click on the link to sample the last special edition). A writer at People found my weight-loss site through my host, Freewebs, and asked me if I’d be willing to share my story. They will focus on others, too, who have kept an online diary of their weight-loss.

Oprah/Chicago Blogs, Nov. 2007
	Air date for the Oprah Winfrey Show is November 28. The week of November 5, I was in Chicago taping the Oprah Winfrey Show. Here are the blogs I posted on my ZenBagLady website about my experience, starting with when I first learned I'd be on the show to my thoughts after I came home. Oprah/Chicago Blogs, November 2007   My 15 Minutes   In a few days I will be two degrees of separation from Bono, Tom Cruise, Maya Angelou, Bill Clinton, Nelson Mandela, probably Bill Gates, maybe Queen Elizabeth, and almost every other famous person on the planet. Who’s the link that can my simple little life so global? That’s right. Oprah. It hasn’t really hit me yet that in a few days I’ll meet Oprah Winfrey. I’m so busy packing and organizing and getting ready for my trip to Chicago tomorrow that I’ve not allowed myself time to let it sink in. My mind tried last night at about 2 a.m., but I forced it to sleep. I was selected to be a guest on The Oprah Winfrey Show after writing a letter to the producers last April. There was a posting on the show’s website for people to submit their weight-loss stories and my friend, Shari, who’d been a guest on Oprah’s radio show, saw it and said what the heck, give it a try. And so I did. I forgot about the letter until August when I came home from a hike with my husband and stepsons. There was a message on the answering machine from a screener at the Oprah Winfrey show and would I mind giving her a call back? Mind? MIND? No one minds calling Oprah back. It’s like a law that you have to, isn’t it? I chatted for an hour with the woman and when we hung up I asked my husband if I’d sounded like a dork. He said no and I was happy and so I left it at that. Again, I forgot about the whole thing until last Sunday when I got a phone call as I was making soup. I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID and so I figured it was a solicitor. I let the machine get it and a woman’s voice came on and said, “Hi Lynn, this is --- from the Oprah Win…” She didn’t get the show’s name out before I had that phone in my hand. I said, in my most calm voice, “Hi, there. Sorry I didn’t answer but I thought you were selling magazines.” This led to another hour-long conversation, only this time instead of sitting calmly at my dining room table, I balanced the phone on my shoulder so I could finish making the soup (it would have been ruined if I’d stopped at that moment) and then I went to the pantry and shut the door so the dogs couldn’t find me. I was shaking a little when I hung up. Did I say what I meant to say? Larry hadn’t heard the conversation so he couldn’t tell me if I sounded stupid or not. I had a bowl of soup (that I’ve dubbed Oprah Soup) and took a deep breath and played the conversation over in my head. I must not have sounded too bad because the next day I got an email and subsequent phone call from another producer at the show. Her phone number came up as Harpo, Inc. on my caller ID so I answered that one right away. What followed was a series of phone calls and emails throughout the week and this weekend from the woman I fondly refer to as my “Personal Producer and Temporary BFF” because she knows me almost better than I know myself right now and she’ll be with me this week as I try to not make a fool of myself on television. PP&BFF last Monday asked me to throw together a three-minute video of myself in my “best outfit” and tell the camera how I lost weight and what it meant to me. She needed the video by Wednesday and gave me her FedEx info. This happened at 9 p.m. Monday night, I didn’t own a camera and I’d never been in front of a camera like that before. I called in reinforcements. Shari had a camera, and my hairstylist, Ashley, said she’d do my hair. I figured maybe if my hair looked good, the outfit wouldn’t matter. My “best outfit” was a problem. I’ve bought clothes since losing 165 pounds, but nothing I’d consider Oprah worthy. After trying on every article of clothing I owned (and putting none away), I chose brown leggings and brown knee-high boots. I had no shirt that worked, though. The only one that was color-coordinated for my pants made me look like Peter Pan and I wasn’t going on camera looking like a flying boy. So after Ashley finished my hair and before Shari came over to tape, I drove downtown to a women’s clothing store and found a shirt I thought might work. I didn’t try it on. I just paid for it and rushed home. It worked. At least I thought it worked. Here is aphoto. I wrote up a little script, practiced it, and Shari and I shot the video in one take. Not bad for amateurs. The best part about it for me was that I liked it. As an obese woman for years I dreaded all cameras, especially video cameras. But when I played back the tape, I saw a confident and happy thin woman and it clicked that that was really me. PP&BFF and the powers that be at Oprah must have liked it, too, because on Friday night she called and asked me if I wanted to be on the show. I said yes. She said good because she’d already booked my flight for Monday. See? I told you PP&BFF knows me well. And so here I am, on the eve before Chicago and Oprah and all that it will entail. There is much shopping involved, PP&BFF told me, along with hair styling, a manicure, and waxing, if I so choose. I’ll have to think about the waxing thing. That scares me more than walking out on stage in front of an audience. I’ll be interviewed, videotaped, driven around town here and there. I’ve only ever driven around downtown Chicago. I’ve never stayed there. I hear the hotel is nice. Twenty-four-hour room service. Not sure that’s a good thing for someone who used to weigh 300 pounds. I’m a little nervous since I’ve not flown in 10 years, but that’s why God invented xanax. I just hope to get through security without causing an incident or being felt up by a female security guard. But Shari is coming with me and is crazy excited and in her energy I find strength. Lots of deep breaths. I’m the ZenBagLady. I can do this. EEEEEEEEHHHH!!! I’m going to meet Oprah Winfrey!!!!! And my PP&BFF!!! OK, so maybe it’s starting to sink in……. I promise to blog from Chicago.   Chicago Monday   I’m tired. Wait. I take that back. I’m exhausted. I’m also homesick and a little sad, and because of why I’m in Chicago, I’ve got a lot of self-doubt going on. I want go home, forget all this and crawl into my own bed. I drove to Pittsburgh and stopped at my daughter’s house. I held my granddaughter for awhile, changed her diaper, gave her a little kiss on her fuzzy head and headed to the airport. I felt pretty confidant, considering I hadn’t flown in 10 years. I passed through security with no problem, ate a small salad, boarded my flight and, except for a little turbulence, had a smooth ride to Chicago. A driver named Lenny loaded me and my luggage into a black stretch limousine and I was off to Harpo Studios. I was fine when I got there. Everyone was nice, I met PP&BFF (see yesterday’s blog) and I waited in a room filled with apples and bananas and granola bars. One of the production assistants said they usually keep the room stocked with bagels and cream-filled croissants, but they thought since they were producing a weight-loss show they’d offer healthier fare. I said they should do that all the time. He just laughed.  The voice-over is what has me slapping my hand against my head tonight. Before my interview, I met a few of the other people who will be on same show as me. One has lost 350 pounds and the other more than 400. How could my measly 165 pounds measure up to that kind of tenacity? My story felt insignificant and I’m afraid I brought that feeling into the audio room. During the recording I spoke in a quiet voice. That strong bold me of yesterday was out to lunch. I had to answer carefully worded questions in full sentences. It was hard to remember how I’d answered similar questions during phone interviews. I definitely made more sense during those interviews because they were conversational. Today there was a microphone clipped to my sweater and a camera focused on me while a woman I’d never talked to before asked me questions about what I felt like emotionally and physically when I was morbidly obese. I struggled to stay focused, but I feel I crashed and burned. Thirty minutes of audio will be reduced to 40 seconds, but I walked away feeling I hadn’t conveyed my true feelings from those days and that Max and Josh the audio guys will be lucky to come up with even a few seconds of usable material. I’ll sound like an idiot on national television while photo after photo of me at my heaviest flashes across the giant screen. What the hell was I thinking when I wrote that letter in April? Self-doubt’s a bitch.  I’m tired and so my feelings are magnified. I have to trust that tomorrow will be what tomorrow will be. Tonight, I’m in a lovely hotel in downtown Chicago. My bag is unpacked. I put on my pajamas and ate shrimp and salad, a few cashews and the little mint chocolate square on my pillow. I’ve turned off my phone and won’t check email anymore tonight. The outside world is there, all I have to do is look out my 25th-story window to see it, but for now, my mind and body need to be quiet. Tomorrow morning I will work out, eat breakfast, and walk along the Magnificent Mile. After lunch, a car will pick me up and take me to Macy’s for some shopping Oprah style. I will remember to enjoy myself. This isn’t how I thought I’d feel tonight. This isn’t the blog I thought I’d write. When will I learn that life is never what we anticipate it will be, but to allow it to be what it is in the moment? I’m not as sad anymore having written this and my self-doubt has eased a bit. I’m still a little homesick, though. …sigh… Good night from Chicago.   Tuesday Morning Addendum to Monday’s Post   I knew it. A good night's sleep, a little xanax, a little God, a little deep breathing...I woke up this morning feeling so much better. It helps to have a friend along, too. When we woke up, Shari and I disected yesterday's events and concluded that it really wasn't as bad as it seemed. It was just overwhelming and unusual. Not a typical day in the life. The weatherman said the winds will gust to 40 mph today. This city's already a wind tunnel. What will 40 mph feel like? I don't think I brought along enough hairspray. I will write more tonight. I just needed to say a quick hi this morning and assure myself that I am OK and ready to finish the job I'm here to do. Shopping's dirty work, but someone has to do it.   Chicago Tuesday   Getting fitted for a bra is like wiggling yourself head first through a child’s padded steel wire playground tunnel. I had so many women stuffing my breasts through straps and lace today that if I swung that way, it might have qualified as foreplay. Laugh if you will, but trying on clothes for four hours is hard work. I’d never taken my clothes on and off so many times, and never have I unabashedly undressed in front of a man I never planned to sleep with – Michael, the head stylist, whom Oprah’s people flew in from LA the night before. It was a matter of efficiency. No time for modesty. If I’d kicked him out every time I needed to take off one pair of jeans and put on another, I’d still be in that Macy’s dressing room. Besides, he didn’t give a damn about my stretch marks. His goal was to make me look good and we had fun doing it. He’s hilarious and a little snarky. He wanted to know the story behind my tattoo, and we both agreed the hotel we’re staying in needs to do something about the sandpaper they call toilet paper. Hello, Charmin? Emergency at 676 Michigan Ave. Each of the guests for this show (21 in all) needed to have three outfits for the Harpo people to choose from. I ended up being photographed in six for some reason. The powers that be wanted me in something tight. Well, they got tight. Tight jeans, tight dresses, tight tights. I have no idea which one they’ll select (I’ll find out in the morning), but I’m hoping for the purple knit dress and knee boots. I have a feeling they’ll select the $200 jeans and the off-the-shoulder sweater with pointy boots and a belt. The dress is something I’d wear in real life, but most of the clothes I tried on today are way out of my league – fun, but expensive and not appropriate for grocery shopping at WalMart. Tomorrow’s schedule is packed tight. I start out at Harpo Studios for a fitting and then I’m off to a salon for a makeover and (hmmm….) waxing. Afterwards I go back to Harpo for rehearsal. I will not meet the divine Ms. O until Thursday when I walk out on stage. She doesn’t like to meet guests, even celebrities, before taping. It takes away from the spontaneity of the conversation, she says. I haven’t had time to be nervous about that and I doubt I will until that very moment. It takes a lot of people and a lot of money to be Oprah. You can’t sneeze at Harpo without at least two producers handing you a Kleenex. They are nothing if not attentive. Things seem chaotic, but there is a perfect rhythm going on underneath the chaos and each program has its own perfect production formula. As a side note, I talked to a few of the women who will be on the show and they all said the same thing about their audio taping experience yesterday as I did. I was so relieved. I thought I was the only one.  Today was everything yesterday wasn’t. I’ll let tomorrow unfold the way it needs to. I’m finally having (gasp)…….fun. I’ll write again tomorrow. Good night from Chicago.   Chicago Thursday Morning   Sorry I didn’t get to blog yesterday. I was busy all day being driven around in a limo to rehearsals and fittings and hair and makeup and nails. (That’s not a sentence I expect to write again in my life.) Fortunately the only thing that got waxed were my eyebrows. Whew! There was an Oprah sighting when I was getting my makeup on. She was on her way to the studio to interview 100 Osmonds. Of course I missed it. So did Shari. Oh well. Today I’ll hug her for real (and Bob Greene, too) and that’s better than just seeing her from afar. The Harpo powers picked the black/grey tight jeans combo for me to wear on the show. They said they want me to be their “rocker chick.” I hope they realize I’m 44 years old and a grandmother. I’ll also wear a big studded belt that costs more than my entire wardrobe on any given day and knee-high suede boots. The shirt is off-the-shoulder and my bra straps show which feels really awkward because my mother always told me to never show your bra strap in public. Sorry Mom. I didn’t recognize myself after they were done styling my hair and putting on makeup. I was a bit shocked actually. The reflection in the mirror was pretty, but it wasn’t me. Dina the hairstylist with two assistants (one of whose job is merely to hand her combs) blew my hair straight and ran a flat iron through it. No one would ever guess I had curly hair. They did the same thing to Cathie and Kelly and Tori, all of whom have curlier hair than me. The makeup they use for camera is thick and I looked like a cadaver. That’s disconcerting all its own. I couldn’t get the mascara off my eyes before I went to bed last night and my eyeballs were glued to the insides of my eyelids this morning. I’m definitely stopping at Walgreens when I get back to Pennsylvania today and buy a bottle of makeup remover.  I know I’m supposed to have fun with this whole process, but the makeover kind of messed with my head. It’s like when I was 300 pounds, I still felt like the same person inside but I didn’t look like myself. Now when I finally feel and look like the same person, my look totally changes. I’m still the same person, but the outside doesn’t match the inside. I think I’ll bring my curls back on Friday. I also think I think too much. I’ll write when I get home and am in comfy clothes and my face is breathing again. I’ll also be sure to write a blog when I know the day the show will air. Most likely it will be later this month or December. Thanks for reading and for all your support this week. You’ve helped me stay connected to the real me.   Chicago Thursday & Home   Two days ago I was glammed up and shaking Oprah Winfrey’s hand. Today, I’m wearing leggings and a sweater and grocery shopping at WalMart. I love that about life. You just never know. Here’s what happened on Thursday. Shari and I packed our bags and went to the lobby to wait for our limo along with the other folks from the show. It was like the last day of summer camp when everyone stands around talking, exchanging email addresses, taking photos. Here’s a group shot and one of me with the hot Russian door man. The limos were an hour late, which turned out to be a good thing because it gave us all more time to swap stories. We were all a little nervous, too, unsure of how our moment in the spotlight would unfold. The limos arrived and Shari and I shared a ride with four other people, one of whom was Michael the head stylist. Here’s a photo of Michael, Jahi and I. I definitely had the best seat in the limo. Jahi lost a lot of weight and is now a competitive body builder. Michael saw me naked and yet he still has a smile on his face. Guess it didn't scare him too much! At Harpo, the producers were in full “show mode.” I was led right to the makeup chairs where a very nice, very tall, thin, beautiful woman worked magic on my face. I managed to get some good makeup tips before I was handed off to the hair lady. She’d touched up my hair the day before so we were already BFF. She, too, worked magic and made my curly hair oh so straight. The producers wanted me glammed out which meant bangs in my eyes. I hate hair in my eyes. It itches and pokes my eyeballs, not to mention I can’t see much. But I was willing to sacrifice for Oprah. When that was done, a few of us went to final rehearsal. There were a lot more people in the studio than were there the day before. Camera guys, sound people, directors everywhere. Kelly, Jahi and I were the second segment of the show. We quickly ran through rehearsal in our street clothes, but Kelly and I had on the shoes we’d be wearing. Nothing screams redneck quite like the crop sweats and t-shirt I was wearing with $200 suede boots. After rehearsal, I went to the changing room where Michael helped me get dressed. I thought he was my friend until he and Lisa chose big gold hoop earrings as the accessory. My earlobes still haven’t forgiven me. After I was dressed, PP&BFF went over the script with me. She told me, “Oprah might ask this question and so you might want to say this, but then, she might ask you something completely different and in that case you’re on your own.” Great. I could barely remember my name at that point, let alone the answer to a question I might get asked. I started pacing a little, memorizing the following: “I can tie my shoes, cross my legs, fit in airplane seats, I work out five to six days a week.” I figured if I could remember the highlights, I was good to go. I went back to the dressing area to hang out with some of the other folks. Shari had been taken to the green room along with a few other friends, trainers and SOs that had accompanied other guests. I talked to Artie and Melissa and Cathi and Nancy. We were all in a zone, trying to deal with the unknown. We were taping the show at 1:30. At 12:45, Kelly, Barbara, Mandy and I got called back to the stage. The director made a change. We weren’t going to walk out and sit between Bob Greene and Oprah. He decided it would be better if we stood there and chatted. Kelly was thrilled because she was sewn into a little green dress that had the possibility of showing the world a little too much Kelly. I was worried because I didn’t know what to do with my hands. At least when I’m sitting I can fold them in my lap. I’m a hand talker. I fling my hands everywhere when I’m talking. Dammmmit. I was so cool up til then. After showing us our new marks, they whisked us off stage because the audience was starting to file in. They didn’t want them to see us. I started pacing again. The audio lady came over and hooked up my microphone on to my bra and wired it under my arm to the top of my shirt. As I said before, modesty gets you nowhere in television. I did a quick sound check and she left me to hook up another guest. 1:15. Time to get lined up. Kelly, Barbara, Mandy and I were brought to the hallway outside the back of the studio. Hair and makeup people kept walking by, fussing with our faces and hair. Then I heard a producer say, “Oprah’s walking.” She doesn’t want to see guests before the show because it interferes with the spontaneity of the meeting on stage. We were then led to the another part of the hall and watched the show on monitors. Nancy was first. Then David. I couldn’t listen to David’s story because it was so heartbreaking. I had tears in my eyes. The makeup artist saw me and whispered, “You can’t cry!” So I paced the floor and blocked out David’s voice. A producer took Kelly and me backstage. I was nervous, but not overwhelmingly so. That surprised me. Lisa had told me to stand tall, like a string was pulling me up straight. I was tall and beautiful in that moment. Kelly went out on stage and did her thing. I got on my mark. They started my montage. I watched 10 seconds of it and had to look away. I heard my voice talking about how I felt when I was 300 pounds and I saw the photos of me and I got sad and I knew I couldn’t take that person out on stage with me. I had to be positive. I looked away. The guys behind stage kept looking at the monitor and then at me, their faces skewed in disbelief. Yes, I thought. That was me. This is me. We’re the same person inside, just not on the outside. Then I heard Oprah say something like, “Come on out, Lynn, and show us what you look like now.” And so I did.  I walked out, the crowd clapped and cheered, I smiled and waved a little (at least I think I did) and then I hugged Bob Greene. Then there was Oprah. Oprah Winfrey. She shook my hand and gave me a hug and when I looked in her eyes, I was calm. She has the most soulful, calming eyes. I knew that anything I said up on stage, she would hear. I knew she was in the moment, not thinking about what she was going to do after the show. She was there. Right there. And I was able to answer her questions as though I was talking to her at my dining room table. Before I knew it, the segment ended and the director led me to my seat. I did it. I let out a huge breath. Some women in the audience gave me smiles and thumbs up. A man behind me said I looked fabulous. Fabulous? I was just so happy to be sitting down and breathing again that I hadn’t thought about what I looked like up there. I can’t wait to see the actual show. After the final interview, we were all called up on stage for the last segment. Standing there, looking out at the audience, I felt empowered. I thought, ‘I’ve lost a lot of weight. I really worked hard for this moment.’ While I didn’t lose weight for that moment, I finally appreciated and understood what I’d done the last (nearly) three years.  Back in the production area, we were all relaxed and happy and so full of joy and energy. So were the producers. Adrenaline was everywhere. My flight home was changed since taping ran long and I was scheduled to fly out at 8:00 rather than 5:00. Shari and I shared a limo to the airport with David, his trainer Chris (see photo), Mandy, Barb, Donna, Mandy and a few of their friends. I didn’t care that it would take an hour to get to O’Hare. I wasn’t driving and I got more face time with some amazing people. At the airport, we all said good bye. Shari’s flight didn’t leave until the next morning, so the driver took her to her hotel and I was alone at O’Hare. I repacked my bags, changed my clothes in the ladies room, and headed to the kiosk to get a boarding pass. A very nice woman from Ukraine helped me, but when she asked for my ID and I gave it to her, she looked concerned. Oh no! I thought. This makeover makes me look nothing like my ID! I explained to her that I’d just been on the Oprah show and, well, you’d think I’d just met Jesus himself. She was all about Oprah and we laughed and talked like we were old friends. Then I went through security. I was prepared to be questioned and I was, but again, the guy thought my story was just outrageous enough to be true and let me through. It was smooth sailing from there. My daughter picked me up at the airport and I stayed in Pittsburgh Thursday night so I could pick up Shari the next day. Friday morning, I washed out the straight hair, stuffed my curly hair into my new Oprah ball cap, and drove home. The French manicure is fading, but I still have a million memories and stories and new good friends. I met Oprah Winfrey. I also met 20 other amazing people who walk a similar walk as me. I slayed dragons and took chances and am today not the same person who boarded that plane to Chicago on Monday. I know this was long and I thank you for getting to the end of this blog. As I told you all last time, I couldn’t have done this without your support. Thank you so very much.   The Oprah Experience Continues   I’m sorry I’ve been so out of touch this week. I’m catching up with my life after two weeks of Oprah prep and execution. I finally updated Marty’s Writing Page and Val’s Writing Page, and I’m working on a new writing page for my friend Shari, the one who started all this Oprah brouhaha in the first place. I should have her page in place tomorrow. Here’s what I realize since I got home last Friday: My life is the same, but I’m not the same. I slew a lot of dragons these last two weeks and I learned a lot about myself and others. For instance, I hadn’t been on an airplane in 10 years. Flying scares me, but over the years I’d gained so much weight I knew I would not fit comfortably in the seats. More than my own comfort, I worried  about the physical and emotional comfort of those around me. When I sat in an auditorium or theater seat, my 300-pound body spilled over to the seat beside me. That’s why I always sat at the end of rows so I could maneuver as much of myself as I could to the aisle. In an airplane, the seat space is small and there is no allowance for a large body other than to inconvenience the person in the next seat. I knew I’d be embarrassed. I’d feel unworthy. I didn’t want to deal with the other passengers’ disgusted looks and so I stayed home and prayed no emergency would arise that would force me to fly. Today I weigh 130 pounds. I fit in most seats, but the eyes take awhile to catch up to the body. When I see small chairs or seats, I still panic a little. I always wonder, “Will I fit?” My fear of flying didn’t go anywhere either, so two dragons were slain when I stepped on that plane for Chicago. We took off, we landed, I was fine. On a much lighter note, I’d never had my eyebrows waxed before. A few of my friends have it done, but I’m blond, Norwegian and generally hairless there, so it never occurred to me to visit an aesthetician. I just load on the eyebrow makeup. Have you ever been lectured by an aesthetician? It’s a little like disappointing your first-grade teacher. You lay there on what looks like a gurney, a bright light shines on your face, and she hovers over you wearing a mask like she expects mad gobs of gunk to come squirting out of your pores. She holds a tweezers and tape for ripping out your hair. She sighed, disappointed in the sad shape of my brows and said to me, “I’ve been doing brows for 25 years. I love brows. They are my life.” That’s when she proceeded to pluck and pour hot wax on my eyebrows. “Keep your eyes closed,” she kept saying. She said I need to use a blond pencil, perhaps taupe, but never anything in a honey color. OK, I said. I promised her I’d throw away the light brown pencil if she just let me walk away with my face in tact. As for my hair, you know that the hair lady at Oprah straightened it for the show. While I didn’t recognize myself at first, I confess I liked it that way. So last Saturday, I bought a flat iron. Sunday I bought shampoo, conditioner and product specifically designed for straightening hair. Today, I did it. It took me an hour, but I did it. I blew my hair out with a big brush, flattened it with an iron and went out in public. No one laughed or stared so I assume it looked OK. I went with my daughter to her doctor’s appointment and I watched Claire in the waiting room. A woman asked me when I had my baby. I told her I was the grandma. She said no way, that I looked too young to be a grandmother, and so now I’m pretty sure I have to straighten my hair every day. On to the clothes. I doubt I’ll wear the outfit in that combination again, but I do like the jeans and the shirt (although I won’t wear it quite as low on my arms as I did on the show), and the boots are amazing. The belt, well, it’s pretty flashy and I live in Appalachia, so I think the belt will be willed to my granddaughter. I might be a little too confident in clothes selection, however, because when I was at Macy’s today buying a new eyebrow pencil, I also bought…..   …….leg warmers!   (Michael, if you’re reading this, please don’t hate me.) Yes, those 1980s throwbacks are BACK! I loved them in the 80s, wore them into the 90s, and am very glad to see them for sale again. I promise I won’t wear them in public unless I’m going to a Flashdance party, but I’ll wear them in my house because I get very cold in the winter at night in my fleece jammies. Don’t laugh. I know I’m no Jennifer Beals, but I really like leggings. Stop laughing! My Oprah adventure continues to amaze me. And it’s not just the flying and the eyebrows and the clothes and the hair. I met so many awesome people, had so many interesting moments. They keep coming to me, flashing in my mind when I’m driving or cooking or working out. Was I really there? Did that really happen? Yes, it did, and I smile and shake my head throughout the day when I remember. I was glad to get home and back to my life. But I’m not the same person who got on that plane for Chicago last week. I’m even better.