SIX POUNDS DOWN. Blood pressure lowest of my adult life. Decaffeinated. Old jeans sitting on my hips. Dress that didn’t fit does.  Drinking green tea. Sleeping through the night. Only one question remains: Who the hell is this woman?

Let’s be honest, it can’t be me. Can’t be, not this woman who more resembles my serene-ish older sister, Margaret. Can’t be me who stuck out her arm at my one-year anniversary with the OB-GYN surgeon, and got back a blood-pressure result that was the lowest in my adult life. That can’t be me on the scale, smiling. And that absolutely, positively cannot be me actually falling asleep in the bed, instead of making lists and checking them twice, alphabetizing them, and then reciting them backwards.

Except it is.

Among the lovely things about this diet is how easy it is to adapt. No, we didn’t buy all Dr. Hyman’s favorite brand of intelligent but expensive supplements, since many of the ones I already take fulfill all of his suggestions at a lower price. Yes, we did buy one item, and the protein powder for the shake he recommends, but I did so because it contains turmeric, one of the great defenders against inflammation. In future I may simply add more turmeric to a less-expensive, fructose-free, and organic rice-protein powder. (Note: I have been taking turmeric daily in pill form since reading a Johns Hopkins study a few years ago on its possible defense against Alzheimer’s disease, the illness that killed our mother).

Striking, too, about this diet is how I now possess a wonderful vegetable broth recipe, since it’s required for the diet (you drink it between meals). Also good is how you can cook ahead. I did: brown rice in a big pot, as well organic chickens, which I roasted three at a time. (Margaret, a longtime vegetarian, used beans or tofu for her protein.)

We’re on a diet, my sister and I. Same diet, very different sisters. And we’re joined by Margaret’s best friend, Erica, whose work we’ve seen her on TSP, and whose interview with her brother we read when we were just a young blog looking to define ourselves. Completely different from either of us, she’s having great success, too. There is magic in doing this together, as there is whenever sisters and sister-friends set out for shared success.

Share our success, sisters. I’m calling it peaceful health, which for me, it is. And it’s a first. And it’s only two weeks in, with great results already.

(Scales image from Apartment Therapy.)

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In 1960, older Margaret's on the light end of the seesaw at age 6.

IF A POUND IS GAINED in the forest, and no one is there to see it, is it still a pound? This is the exact kind of question I’ve pelted my poor sister with over the years that I’ve seen my weight go up and hers go down; her side of the seesaw is ever higher up in the air. And trust me, there were more annoying exchanges, like these:

I’ve actually called and accused her of shipping parts of her body to me; sent her emails reminding her to come and take back her butt, which seems to have adhered itself to mine; Skyped her to reclaim at least one bra size to where it belongs. I’ve considered skywriting, homing pigeons, and the much-missed telegram.

Nothing. Nada. The girl almost never shows up, and when she does, she’s still skinny. So, the only thing for us to do was move on, and we have, and now for the first time in our lives we’re on a diet together, my sister and I.

And here’s the rub: We’re on the same diet—and it’s working.

Maybe it’s because we went on a diet for the right reasons. Both of us have varying inflammation issues, including asthma, as well as some sore joints aching around the landscapes of our very different bodies. Our mother had Alzheimer’s disease; our father had cancer. So, just like you, we have some family histories we’d prefer to dislodge, or at least discourage.

And like most things that happen in families, it was the older sister who dragged this little sister into this kicking and screaming. And now you see who’s bragging on the whole thing, right? That’s right: me.

Margaret, you were right. This is the best diet ever. You want to tell the nice people reading this all about what you talked me into? Please do. Though we do invite everyone to follow along with this as we see where this takes us, my sister and me, on our diet path toward our different but healthy bodies. (And P.S., TSP Sister Paige has a thing or two to say about the Body Mass Index, or BMI, speaking of our bodies and weight.)

Update September 24: The weigh-in results and more are in this later post.

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HEADING BACK TO THE BLEACHERS, as our children are heading back to school, reminds me that last year we had some issues. But as it does each year, September gives all of us a brand clean slate on which to write. Our kids have changed over the summer: They’ve gotten taller, had braces put on (or taken off), have moved up to JV or Varsity. And us? Well, hope as our kids might, we haven’t changed all that much.

But then again, we’re not supposed to. We’re the adults, and right about now that noise heard all over the Northern hemisphere is us, getting out our tush-cushes, filling up our thermoses, and throwing our stadium chairs into the backs of our cars. And with all that to do, who could possibly change, as well, especially since we’re back so soon? So here we are again, kids–the Sisters on the Sidelines–and we are every bit as embarrassing as we were last year.

Gotcher pom-poms, sisters? Your foam fingers firmly in place? Let’s get our game on. Yeah, again.

Have you forgotten the rules we lived by from last year? Not to worry.

Got ‘em right here.

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This post is part of TSP’s network-wide “Sisters I’ve Met Along the Way” celebration, marking 9 months of blogging together, and the women (and men) we’ve met.

I NEVER THOUGHT when I first wrote about bra-shopping months ago that it would prove the start of such a supportive (sorry!) new sisterhood. This song is my attempt to start to thank some of those I’ve met as a result.

To be sung to the tune of The Yellow Rose of Texas. Oh, yeah.

‘Thanks to the Sisterhood of the Bra’

If ever I should lose my way
You’d be the first to write,
Reminding me that possibly
It’s just my bra’s too tight.

As April did, you’d tell me that
You’re proud I raise my voice,
And Marti’s post confirms that menopause
Gives us no choice.

Deb Wilson’s joyous nod to my good marriage
Did the trick,
Especially when the sentiment
Was seconded by Nick.

“Bra Lady” came from roadchick
On a day I was quite blue,
Reminding me that humor’s nearly as good
As new red shoes.

Renovation Therapy is shouting out with us,
And Donna Miller
Likens all her bad bras
To a truss.

But Missy then reminded me
That there really is an art,
In betting on the nags
Whose names are based on body parts.

And brothers, oh we’ve heard from you,
There’s Kevin, Steve and Keith,
Laughing right along with us
Providing some relief.

Though nothing can quite quell
The hell Priscilla does endure
When taking Mom bra shopping,
It sure sounds like Dante’s tour.

Though Georgie, she has done it, too
And somehow she’s survived,
The fitting room with Momma
And coming out alive.

You’ve piled on the friendship
While you pile on the grins,
Too many names to mention all
So many tales to spin.

So keep those comments coming
Sisters, every word is dear
Who knew we’d find a sisterhood
Stitched into our brassieres?

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NOT ASKING YOUR SISTER is dumb. I should know. I learned that lesson when our daughter was 5, and told me that she wanted to be a boy. Actually, it was more specific than that. She told me she wanted a penis.

We were driving home from pre-school when she made this announcement. An eerie silence descended in the car. Having recently polished up my death-and-dying discussion when our dog went to her great reward, you’d think I’d be better than this. I mean, honestly: What’s a mere penis when compared to the great beyond? I’d covered Heaven really well, and yet here I was, stunned into silence as my daughter listed off the names of the seemingly fortunate boys in her class, ticking them off on her little fingers.

“Ben has a penis,” she said. “And Alex has one. And Brian.”

As we pulled into our driveway I bought a little time by suggesting we wait until we were in the house. Inside, coats off, it was here that I made my tactical error. This was when I should have placed that lifeline call.

Instead, I over-corrected just the eensiest little tiny bit.

“Darling, I have a book that will help us with this discussion.”

I admit it: I went looking for my battered copy of “Our Bodies, Ourselves,” that cosmic map of the female body, and not only that—oh, no—I flamboyantly launched into an ambitious preamble to how the sexes differ, actually mentioning Sigmund Freud (remember: the child is 5. Five.), teetered around the topic of sex, and dropped in more than a smattering of anatomically correct names of body parts, all the while amusing myself with a judicious omission of any easy shots at the pros and cons of the penis itself.

Oh, I was on a regular roll.

Until I noticed that my child had her hand on her hip and was shifting her weight from side to side, looking a little bored.

“Where was I?” I asked.

“The penis.”

Defaulting to some maternal sincerity, I crouched down in that earnest way mothers without a clue often do, asking, “Why do you want one, dear?”

“Because the toilet seat is so cold,” she said.

Ah, yes. Well, there is that, isn’t there?

Had I taken that minute I’d been given when we first arrived home and called my sister, Margaret, or my friend Elizabeth, I’d have perhaps saved some face, by being reminded by one of them to simply address the issue my child was raising, instead of learning the hard way that sometimes what a child needs from a parent isn’t a Big Answer, after all, as much as a little understanding.

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Me, on the swim team, before I knew the 15 Rules.

WHY WOULD I BE ASKED TO SPEAK at a school commencement, my daughter wanted to know? I am no one’s idea of a traditional role model. But I’ve been able to chart my life to do what I love, so my speech turned out to be a list of rules to help the girls do just that. 15 Rules for Living, from overseas travel to a certain pair of red shoes:

1. Never be without at least one pair of red shoes. There are few situations in life that cannot be improved by them.

2. Don’t read the Cliff Notes. Read the book. Much like life, it’s not what happened, but how it happened—how the insecurities of one person, the passions, the human inability to choose well, the human ability to choose brilliantly—result in the events in the story.

3. Wear lipstick. It feels great, and it’s fun, and all too often we depend on other people to make us feel good and show us a good time. Get yourself some lipstick, and every time you apply it, remember that this is one of your rules of life: to show yourself a good time, in your shade, on your terms.

4. If more than three people are rushing off to do something and it’s not an organized sport, stop, take a minute, and decide for yourself: Do you really want to do anything with this pack of people?

5. Choosing a college or a major field of study because somebody who likes you and is cute chooses that college or field of study makes about as much sense as eating raw, poisonous sea urchins: I know it’s done in some parts of the world, but I can’t imagine why.

6. If you fear it, try it. And we don’t mean merely piercing. Try out for the play, speak truth to someone in power, get help for a problem, say no to someone who wants to do something with your body that you’re not sure you want to do.

7. An old expression says you can never be too rich or too thin. Yes you can. Of course you can be too thin. Too rich? We all are, every day that a child anywhere on earth goes hungry.

8. It is not possible to be too funny.  Don’t envy others’ abilities to make people laugh. Work on your own funny voice. You have one.

9. If your college has a program abroad, go. We’ll get over it, and soon we’ll be bragging about how brave you were to go to Nairobi.

10. If it seems like a bad idea, it is.

11. There is no such thing as a good reason to drop out of college.

12. Be loyal. To your friends, to your family and absolutely, to the schools who teach you. It’s easy to pretend that your school doesn’t mean a great deal to you. Anybody can do that. But it’s an interesting woman who graciously credits others for the time spent educating her.

13. Unlucky? Nope. Here’s all you need to know about luck. You make your own luck. That’s a quote from Napoleon who knew a thing or two about seizing the day.

14. A quote from perhaps a wiser man, certainly a man whose advice I try to follow, “Never, never, never quit.” Said by Winston Churchill.

15. Here’s the secret to self-esteem: It begins and ends in how you are spoken to. And the fundamental voice you need to listen to is your own. Speak to yourself the way you would speak to your best friend.

Fifteen rules. When in doubt of what to do, try this litmus test:

Is this the Cliff Notes, or the real thing? If I simply took the time to go back to my dorm room and got my lipstick, would doing what this person wants me to do still seem like a good idea when I got back? Do I truly want to be a pottery major? Does this group have my best interests at heart, or do they want me with them because I’m special and I make them seem more special? Am I afraid of doing that, and why? Will I be proud of myself if I do it anyway? What would I say to someone else right now if I wanted her to succeed? What would a snappy pair of red shoes do right now to my attitude? And what that I know to be absolutely true about how to succeed, can I add to this list?

Here at TSP, we love lists. Check out some of our others.

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Lisa Ling; image from Wikipedia

SISTERS IN THE NEWS are not all that common, we find. We look. We love being on the receiving end of your good generosity for any such news items, as one of you just did. In from Elizabeth at learningtobake, came this, about a book we bet all of us will read when it comes out. Jointly offered by Lisa Ling, a special correspondent for The Oprah Winfrey Show, and her sister, Laura Ling, one of the women journalists captured by the North Koreans in March and recently released, the proposal currently being shopped around is said to examine “the meaning of sisterhood and journalistic ideals.” Here’s the full story. We’re excited, and wish the Ling sisters all the very best, as well as our sincere offer that if they need any help, they consult our memoir tips here to keep them typing with the rest of us sisters.

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