She’s Losing It!

Before I became a full-time novelist, there was a season of my life that felt completely unmanageable.

I was training for a bodybuilding competition, potty-training my son, juggling motherhood, and trying to hold together a life that felt messier than I wanted to admit. Somewhere in the middle of all that exhaustion, frustration, and stubborn determination, this blog (and eventually my memoir She’s Losing It!) was born.

What started as a place to process weight loss and practice writing quickly became something deeper: a way to tell the truth about transformation. Not the glossy, highlight-reel version, but the real one. The kind that happens while you’re tired, overwhelmed, and still showing up anyway.

The excerpt below comes from that season—when I was learning that changing your body often means changing your story, too.

Here is an excerpt from She’s Losing It!

BLOGGER BIRTH

Since Valentine’s Day is coming up, the Pflugerville Library is hosting a discussion with three local romance novelists. Henri is watching the kids so I
can go for an hour. I arrive to find a table filled with every kind of chocolate deliciousness you can imagine. Cupcakes, brownies, chocolate hearts, you get the idea. ’Cause nothing says “love and romance” like chocolate.
But I stay strong. I don’t want to have to write in “cupcakes” in my food journal, because that would be wrong. Right?
Each woman speaks about her book and the path she took to get it published, and then we audience members get to talk to each of them one-on
one to practice pitching our own books, or whatever we want to talk about, really.
So I tell the author with the red hair my romance novel pitch. She’s actually pretty into it, which is cool, because she didn’t seem that into the
other two pitches before me. My problem is that the Scottish book keeps getting more and more complicated plot lines, and even though I know how I
want it to end, I don’t know how to make the beginning connect to the end yet.
“You have ‘The Middle of the Book Sucks Syndrome,’” she said. That sounded specific and very official.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The excitement of figuring out the beginning and the end is over and the only thing left is hard work and rewrites. But you have a really good
storyline and the characters are interesting. I think you just need to practice writing more. Do you have a blog?”
“No,” I say sheepishly.
“Everyone has a blog,” said another author. She had short whitish gray hair and grandkids. Shit, even grandma has a blog!
“Look, the first thing any publisher is going to do when you send them a manuscript is Google you. You need an online presence.”
“I know,” I said. I’ve been told this before. “Does it have to be about my romance novel? I’d feel weird writing kissing scenes online. I wrote a kids
book, but I don’t want to write a Mommy blog. I don’t really feel qualified for that.” (Pretty telling statement, huh?)
“You can write about anything you want. You just need to do it consistently. Read other blogs and books to get ideas. Writers read, and
writers write. Daily. Good luck to you.”
Hmm.
The librarian hands me a bag of romance novels and a bag of chocolate candies as a parting gift. I take two more bags of candies (one for each kid)
and start to leave.
Then I get a brilliant idea: I’ll blog about the bodybuilding bikini competition! I have absolutely no experience in it, so no one’s expecting me to be an expert. I already started the story by signing up for training, and know it ends somehow with me looking hot in a bikini (perfect ending, if you asked me), so this whole daily blogging thing will take care of “The Middle of the Book Sucks Syndrome” for me. Perfect!
Now I just need a name for the blog…

NAME THAT BLOG

It’s been a very productive day. We held “The Diaper Ceremony” after my workout. The Diaper Ceremony involves having your toddler gather up all
the diapers in the house, put them in a trash bag, and then throw them away in the outside trash can so he can make that connection: This is the real deal. I have to use the potty now.
But when Little Henry wasn’t looking, Big Henri took all the diapers out of the trash and put them in the garage for later use. Big Henri’s not about to
waste $40 on symbolism. Little Henry is wearing his Go, Diego, Go! underwear and sweatpants (as they are easier for a toddler to navigate on and
off than jeans) and I have the downstairs bathroom set up with a blue potty chair, and a basket full of exciting books, and we had a very constructive
discussion about the merits of using a toilet versus a diaper.
Then he peed on the floor.
But this is just part of the process. I have him take off the wet clothes and put them in the washing machine, and have him help me clean up. See
how I’m making him connect the consequences with his actions? It worked wonders with Rylee. She was potty trained in 10 days when she was 18
months old. It is my understanding that boys take longer than girls, so I have allotted two weeks for this process.
On the way out the door, Henri asked me to scan and email a lease for our new tenant. Scanning leases is a big fat pain in the ass. First, you have to
convert it from legal to letter size, and then you have to do this one page at a time for each page because our scanner is so old it won’t handle multiple
sheets. But I’m trying to pay attention to Little Man so I can catch him before he goes. The potty training book that told me about the Diaper Ceremony said I’m supposed to take him to the bathroom every 30 minutes, but it neglected to mention whether the 30 minutes started from the top of the hour or from the point where he gets up off the potty. Because sometimes he’s on there for like 20 minutes, and other times I have to practically hold him on the pot in a wrestler pose.
My cell phone rings.
“I need the lease, Lisa!”
“You know today was the Diaper Ceremony! I have to focus on Little Man.”
“The tenant needs his lease. It’s a little bit more important than getting a toddler to pee in a bowl.”
“Why is everything you do more important than what I do?”
“I didn’t say that. Why are you putting words in my mouth?”
I look over and Little Man is naked from the waist down running up the stairs. “Great! You made me miss it!” I hang up and clean the disaster on the
floor.
I really could use a drink here. At least when I potty trained Rylee I could have wine.
But after a day of back-and-forth, I finally got Little Henry to use the potty once and was able to email Big Henri his lease. In between that I picked
up Rylee, did the laundry, and started sorting all the receipts into piles so I could work on our taxes. Also, I sorted all the romance novels the library
gave me into different genres: corset-rippers, cowboy, Danielle Steele books, Amish girl wanting an outsider, Highlander meets spunky lass, modern day trashy ones, and Nicholas Sparks tearjerkers.
By the time Big Henri comes home it looked like a giant had sneezed underwear and paperwork all over the house. I’m typing on the computer
when he walks in the door.
“Hey.” He looks at the piles of chaos everywhere.
“Hey. So what should I name my blog?”
“You’re starting a blog now?” He drops his jacket on the floor, because God forbid he hang something up in the closet.
“I told you everyone said I needed to start a blog if I wanted to publish romance novels.” Duh.
“And you need to do this now, because why?” He pulls out Home Depot receipts from his jeans pockets and throws them into my overflowing
in-box.
“Daddy!” Rylee screams in glee and tackles him. Little Man wanders in half naked and sits on my lap.
“Because if I don’t do it now, I think I’ll never do it. I’m going to blog about trying to lose weight by entering a bikini competition. If I don’t like
blogging, then I can say it was only for the length of the training and stop at that point, and at least I’ll have an online presence. But I don’t know what to name it. I was thinking “The Bikini Project,” but then people might think it was just a bunch of pictures of hot chicks in bikinis, and that’s not really my audience. I want to appeal to women my age, you know?”
Little Henry is tapping on my keyboard and I manage to move my green tea just in time before he knocks it over.
“You’re going to potty train our son, do the accounting for our business, write a romance novel, lose weight by training for a bikini competition, and,
since that’s apparently not enough, you’re going to start a blog, too? She’s Losing It.com”
He walks towards the kitchen.
“That’s brilliant!” I say standing up with the baby. Yay! A blog is born!

 

January Giveaway

That season of my life taught me something important: transformation doesn’t happen in isolation.

Whether I’m writing about fitness, motherhood, or historical fiction, the common thread is always the same—stories help us make sense of hard things. They remind us we’re not alone, and they give us language for change.

That’s why my newsletter lives on LisaTraugott.com.

It’s where I share the stories worth telling—behind-the-scenes reflections, book excerpts, author and artisan giveaways, and the throughline connecting all my work, past and present. It’s not just about books; it’s about growth, creativity, and the quiet magic of rebuilding a life one chapter at a time.

If this story resonated with you, I’d love to have you there.

You can sign up anytime at www.LisaTraugott.com.

Each month I do a giveaway to people who follow my Wise Ones newsletter and since it’s January, famous for New Year/New You books, I’m giving away a chance to win a signed copy of my memoir.

How to Enter the Giveaway

Want to win a signed copy of She’s Losing It! by Lisa A. Traugott?

Here’s how:

• Sign up for my newsletter at LisaTraugott.com
• ✉️ Reply to the January newsletter email with the word “giveaway” by 1/31/26.
• One winner will be chosen and announced in next month’s newsletter
• The prize: A signed copy of She’s Losing It!
•  U.S. residents only due to shipping costs

 

Stay healthy,

Lisa 😉

Copyright (c) Lisa A. Traugott 2026. All rights reserved.