I ran into numerous wonderful friends today while showering some brides-to-be...some that I haven't seen in awhile...and several of them noticed that I'd lost some weight. I suppose I can understand how shocking it might be to see someone lose a considerable amount of weight in a not-so-considerable amount of time...but alas, it is what it is.
I'm grateful, by the way. And I don't mind telling the story...it never gets old to me.
One question came to me at church today that I haven't had asked so far from a sweet lady who I am not friends with on Facebook or that I interact with on a regular basis. She's seen me around but apparently didn't register who I was until today. She stopped me and asked me if I'd had surgery. I suppose that's a fair question...but since I've been so open with everything for the past nine months...it caught me a little bit off guard.
No, I did not have surgery...although I did consider it. Why wouldn't I? I was 140 pounds overweight with no turnaround in sight. I accepted who I was and my friends and family loved me anyway...and believe it or not...my health numbers were always very good. With regard to the surgery, I researched it fully and had some testimonials from people I trust completely. My issue was that I knew that if I had the surgery but didn't find out how to fix my problem and change my lifestyle...it would just be a temporary fix.
But more importantly, my spirit kept telling me that this was a battle royale that God was going to fight through me. And He has...and is. But that is my story...and for others who quietly wrote another one that has also had amazing results...that is not judgment. The bottom line is that we are all trying to get healthy. I think we're getting there.
My biggest challenge right now is being comfortable. Settling for "good enough" instead of "great." Celebrating too many things too often. Not making my limits as stringent as they need to be. Getting frustrated when weight loss slows to the 1-2 pounds a week that is considered healthy instead of the cosmic leaps and bounds I experienced several months ago.
But there are the little changes. The pushing to do something I didn't know I could do. The fact that I ran a 5K (3.1 miles) without stopping on the treadmill on Saturday just to see if I could instead of the two miles that I intended.
I am grateful to be getting some things right...but I cannot just say "BOOM! DONE!" at any point because I'm not done. Far from it.
I explained to a friend this weekend that my issues with food are very similar to those of an alcoholic or a drug addict. I'm addicted to a substance. The only differences are...mine is legal...and I have to partake of a certain amount of it to survive. I am not pretending that my food addiction is anything akin to the hell that people addicted to other substances are...but if you've never been there...you honestly do not know.
So, management of it is critical. I'll never be cured and will always be subject to the whims of well meaning folks who want me to drink a little of this or eat a little of that in the name of fellowship. I have to be extremely careful in that regard. Not crazy...but careful. Because all it takes is a few days away from eating correctly and a week off from the gym and I risk a relapse.
So I keep going. I keep trying. Continue striving to move toward the goals I've set for myself.
There is something beautiful about people on a mission. Folks who are enthusiastic and passionate about what they are doing. I get that because I am attracted to people who just love what they are doing because it ramps up my hope that I can have that same experience. I believe that a lot of folks have seen a dowdy 50-something woman try to transform her life...and have been unbelievably kind to me in the process.
One person reminded me today that "you do this..." meaning that I lose weight and then gain it back. It's true. I've done that. But I've never been set up as well as I am right now to succeed. I've also understood that this battle is the Lord's and not only my own. It feels completely different somehow.
I know that I'm waxing all philosophical tonight as I think about some of the conversations I've had this weekend...from people that I've known and loved as friends for years. Who are ready to join me in trying to live their own dreams by finding their authentic selves. Who aren't ready to just have the part of their lives where they feel fit and good behind them. Who realize that 60 is the new 40.
I have learned so much these past few months that I wouldn't even know where to start listing. I suppose the biggest lesson is that physically...90% of it is what you eat and 10% is about exercise. That your success is 90% your attitude and 10% everything else. That it is never too late...and that most of what you hate doing in the gym is what is going to eventually have to be dealt with because that is what is going to help you the most. That when you run...for the first ten or so minutes...your mind will try to get you to stop. If you keep going...it will eventually quiet and your breathing will regulate. I didn't know that because I'd never run for ten minutes before. Not really. Running is about 90% in your head and 10% in your body when you first start.
I have met people who have been helpful, people who are threatened by my changes, and people who keep talking about my "willpower" or "self-control." Hardly. I just removed failure as an option. I still do.
My reason for writing this is that I need to put in writing that I am just a few pounds away from having 100 pounds off my frame. 100 pounds. 1-0-0. I need to get past that number so that I can address the 40 pounds behind that as well. I've come a long way...but I still have a long way to go.
I realize that there are people reading this who are wondering how to get 10 pounds off rather than 100. Well, you just do it. You just decide. You stop eating crap. You commit...and the teachers will show up. They certainly have for me.
I'm grateful to everyone who has said a kind word, shared some encouragement, given me tips to do better, inspired me, helped me stay faithful to the program, exercised with me, passed down some clothes, loved me when I was heavier and still love me now, or prayed for me because you knew I needed it. All of that has made a difference.
And still is...
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Filing Off the Rough Edges
One of the hardest parts about being an adult is realizing that sometimes you just have to let things be. Not changed, not fought over, not pursued relentlessly...just left alone. Kind of like emotional poison ivy that you have to remember not to scratch or you'll spread it everywhere.
I suppose most of us have things that get under our skin. And I am fairly certain that these vary from person to person. Someone may have a true issue with profanity, with one-upmanship, with folks who say they'll be there but aren't, or who get emotional over everything. Not the normal anxiety over something major...but upset to a level that is entirely inappropriate for the situation so as to draw attention to themselves.
That drives me nuts. Along with continual self-promotion disguised as "inspiring others." That last one is why I get concerned every now and again that I talk about the weight loss journey too much. Of course, I try to talk about the potholes in the road to success, the fact that I am not perfect, and the struggles as much as I talk about the successes. Personally, I prefer it when people keep it real.
I am being annoyed at this point in time by someone who has an enthusiasm level that is so far over the top that I can hardly stand any interaction. She doesn't care, and obviously this is my problem...not hers. But because this has been going on for several weeks and is pretty much making me feel the opposite of "inspired" which feels something like "incredibly annoyed"...I've decided to break it down to see what in the world my problem is.
Again...my problem, obviously.
I realize that I have some places in my life that are a little rough around the edges. Some of it comes from being in the trenches for years and feeling a little like I have to take care of myself instead of relying on others to do it. The rest comes from a sometimes out of control "Type A" personality that most people don't really see because I try to keep it as much on the "down low" as is possible. Sometimes it works. Other times...not.
I tend to blame these "leaks" on my alter-ego otherwise known as "Towanda" after the character in "Fried Green Tomatoes" who just had enough of everything and finally just rammed her car into a sassy young thing's car over and over because she'd taken "lip" one too many times. I prefer to think of "Towanda" as "righter of injustices and heinous customer service" because somebody clearly has to do it. Although my children used to see a little "Towanda" in my eyes and would quietly plead with me to not have a meltdown in the middle of Old Navy.
Sometimes I'd listen. Sometimes not.
I realize that these rough edges aren't terribly spiritual...but every so often folks just need to hear the truth unvarnished. Need to hear that their policies are idiotic. Need to know that their waitstaff needs to care. Need to solve a problem instead of passing it on. And sadly...sometimes need additional diction lessons so that I can understand what in the world some of them are trying to patiently explain in what is clearly a second language to them.
I'm fairly certain that Rudy in India, Sue in Singapore and Josie in Miami aren't really named Rudy, Sue and Josie and that they really hate talking to "the crazy lady from that Alabama." Kind of like the person I spoke with last week that I told to quit calling my daughter at 1:00 a.m. to tell her that her battery was low on her home alarm. It has since been fixed...but when I share with you that had I received that call...someone would have needed counseling...I'm not kidding. Fortunately, the little apple who witnessed enough "Towanda" in her young life to hold her own made someone's night I'm fairly certain.
Bless his heart.
Part of life is filing off the rough edges so that we are more like Jesus. And yes, He got hungry, tired, angry, and felt immense pain. But He also had incredible patience. He understood that we forget easily. That we aren't perfect. That we fail daily. And He loved us anyway.
Which is really what I should do with the person who is bothering me by posting incessantly on a group page that I'm on about what she's eating, every success she's having and how awesome she looks in everything. I am not made less by her success. Granted, I'm not inspired by it either...but there is no reason for me to allow this to keep me from shining in my own unique way just because I don't want to get on other peoples' nerves. Although I'm sure that from time to time I probably do.
I need to file off that rough edge that occurs every time she posts anything and try to understand that she probably does not have any idea how this is affecting me. And even more truthful...she probably doesn't even care. After all, it is none of her business what I think about her...any more than it is my business what anyone thinks about me.
I could be more gracious and just understand that she is excited and is shouting it from the rooftops. I could understand that when you succeed at something really, really hard...that you've earned the right to crow a little bit. After all...how many people have I told that I've lost 90 pounds? People who haven't asked...and probably couldn't care less.
Seriously.
Maybe the best thing for me to do is recognize that if this is bothering me...I need to see what it is driving it. Is it jealousy? Do I want to be part of the discussion and feel like I can't because she comments on everything? What is it? I think that is the burning question that begs to be answered so that I can move on and quit rolling my eyes at someone I don't even really know.
See? Totally my problem.
There are a lot of rough edges that each of us have that can either be filed down or can be sharp edges for someone to be hurt from coming into contact with us. I don't want to hurt anyone. And I certainly don't want to seem snarky, unsupportive, or mean. I'm honestly none of those things on a regular basis. All of those endorphins from exercise you know. Plus, I try really hard to keep a handle on it lest it gallop across the field of my life sowing all kinds of destruction.
From a biblical standpoint, I already know the answer...I'm supposed to love. To accept. To expect nothing out of people but look for opportunities to be supportive. If I can't do that...I don't have love in me...and my witness is false.
Yeah. That's not good.
So, I'll be working on a little bit of filing this afternoon. Off this rough spot that has been bothering me off and on for months. Because I've already wasted a whole lot of energy being irked and ungracious. That energy would be better spent doing something productive. Like lifting someone else up. Sharing a kind word. Doing something for a dear friend. Praying for people who've requested it. Helping people who can't repay me. Being a blessing.
Hard to do that when someone might get impaled on a rough edge. Time to work on that. Actually...past time.
I suppose most of us have things that get under our skin. And I am fairly certain that these vary from person to person. Someone may have a true issue with profanity, with one-upmanship, with folks who say they'll be there but aren't, or who get emotional over everything. Not the normal anxiety over something major...but upset to a level that is entirely inappropriate for the situation so as to draw attention to themselves.
That drives me nuts. Along with continual self-promotion disguised as "inspiring others." That last one is why I get concerned every now and again that I talk about the weight loss journey too much. Of course, I try to talk about the potholes in the road to success, the fact that I am not perfect, and the struggles as much as I talk about the successes. Personally, I prefer it when people keep it real.
I am being annoyed at this point in time by someone who has an enthusiasm level that is so far over the top that I can hardly stand any interaction. She doesn't care, and obviously this is my problem...not hers. But because this has been going on for several weeks and is pretty much making me feel the opposite of "inspired" which feels something like "incredibly annoyed"...I've decided to break it down to see what in the world my problem is.
Again...my problem, obviously.
I realize that I have some places in my life that are a little rough around the edges. Some of it comes from being in the trenches for years and feeling a little like I have to take care of myself instead of relying on others to do it. The rest comes from a sometimes out of control "Type A" personality that most people don't really see because I try to keep it as much on the "down low" as is possible. Sometimes it works. Other times...not.
I tend to blame these "leaks" on my alter-ego otherwise known as "Towanda" after the character in "Fried Green Tomatoes" who just had enough of everything and finally just rammed her car into a sassy young thing's car over and over because she'd taken "lip" one too many times. I prefer to think of "Towanda" as "righter of injustices and heinous customer service" because somebody clearly has to do it. Although my children used to see a little "Towanda" in my eyes and would quietly plead with me to not have a meltdown in the middle of Old Navy.
Sometimes I'd listen. Sometimes not.
I realize that these rough edges aren't terribly spiritual...but every so often folks just need to hear the truth unvarnished. Need to hear that their policies are idiotic. Need to know that their waitstaff needs to care. Need to solve a problem instead of passing it on. And sadly...sometimes need additional diction lessons so that I can understand what in the world some of them are trying to patiently explain in what is clearly a second language to them.
I'm fairly certain that Rudy in India, Sue in Singapore and Josie in Miami aren't really named Rudy, Sue and Josie and that they really hate talking to "the crazy lady from that Alabama." Kind of like the person I spoke with last week that I told to quit calling my daughter at 1:00 a.m. to tell her that her battery was low on her home alarm. It has since been fixed...but when I share with you that had I received that call...someone would have needed counseling...I'm not kidding. Fortunately, the little apple who witnessed enough "Towanda" in her young life to hold her own made someone's night I'm fairly certain.
Bless his heart.
Part of life is filing off the rough edges so that we are more like Jesus. And yes, He got hungry, tired, angry, and felt immense pain. But He also had incredible patience. He understood that we forget easily. That we aren't perfect. That we fail daily. And He loved us anyway.
Which is really what I should do with the person who is bothering me by posting incessantly on a group page that I'm on about what she's eating, every success she's having and how awesome she looks in everything. I am not made less by her success. Granted, I'm not inspired by it either...but there is no reason for me to allow this to keep me from shining in my own unique way just because I don't want to get on other peoples' nerves. Although I'm sure that from time to time I probably do.
I need to file off that rough edge that occurs every time she posts anything and try to understand that she probably does not have any idea how this is affecting me. And even more truthful...she probably doesn't even care. After all, it is none of her business what I think about her...any more than it is my business what anyone thinks about me.
I could be more gracious and just understand that she is excited and is shouting it from the rooftops. I could understand that when you succeed at something really, really hard...that you've earned the right to crow a little bit. After all...how many people have I told that I've lost 90 pounds? People who haven't asked...and probably couldn't care less.
Seriously.
Maybe the best thing for me to do is recognize that if this is bothering me...I need to see what it is driving it. Is it jealousy? Do I want to be part of the discussion and feel like I can't because she comments on everything? What is it? I think that is the burning question that begs to be answered so that I can move on and quit rolling my eyes at someone I don't even really know.
See? Totally my problem.
There are a lot of rough edges that each of us have that can either be filed down or can be sharp edges for someone to be hurt from coming into contact with us. I don't want to hurt anyone. And I certainly don't want to seem snarky, unsupportive, or mean. I'm honestly none of those things on a regular basis. All of those endorphins from exercise you know. Plus, I try really hard to keep a handle on it lest it gallop across the field of my life sowing all kinds of destruction.
From a biblical standpoint, I already know the answer...I'm supposed to love. To accept. To expect nothing out of people but look for opportunities to be supportive. If I can't do that...I don't have love in me...and my witness is false.
Yeah. That's not good.
So, I'll be working on a little bit of filing this afternoon. Off this rough spot that has been bothering me off and on for months. Because I've already wasted a whole lot of energy being irked and ungracious. That energy would be better spent doing something productive. Like lifting someone else up. Sharing a kind word. Doing something for a dear friend. Praying for people who've requested it. Helping people who can't repay me. Being a blessing.
Hard to do that when someone might get impaled on a rough edge. Time to work on that. Actually...past time.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Illegitimi Non Carborundum
Sometimes I turn on the news and just listen to what is going on out there until it becomes impossible to bear any more. One party is put out about this, another about that, someone feels that their rights are trampled, another is tired of having to constantly give up ground to make another side happy that never seems to actually ever be happy. It's quite depressing actually.
Then I remember the immortal words..."illegitimi non carborundum."
I have friends on different sides of the political spectrum, and they find my politics a bit amusing. A little hayseed more than likely...and definitely reflective of where I live. They are brilliant and talented people that just see the world a little differently than I do...and other than that, we tend to get along pretty well. And then there are those who see as I do but are even more devoted to certain points than I ever thought about being. It is an interesting and colorful world out there.
People also range on the view of religion and God's existence and how much tolerance should be acceptable. How to define "love" or "false prophets" or "caring for people without regard to 'x' or 'y'" but perhaps in spite of it. How to remain on the narrow road when the wide one is gyrating and pulsating all over almost everything attached to the word "entertainment" and seems to get more lurid and raunchy every year.
And prouder of it.
Folks also differ with regard to cohabitation, moral absolutes, bringing children into the world, where they choose to live, what they choose to carry, and how they spend their time.
Sometimes it is downright overwhelming. It will grind you down if you let it.
It is times like these that I tend to have to check out for a few days and do nothing but watch the Hallmark Channel, clean my house, love on my shih tzus and pray for the best. Where I have to walk room to room and recall how grateful I am that I am living where I am and that most of the dreams I had for myself at 22 have already come to pass. Where I go for a run because I still can at 51 and because I'm currently living the dream of getting weight off that has been attached to me for long enough now that it feels weird when it turns up missing.
Not that I'm complaining. Not that I want it back. No. No. No.
Not that I didn't eat a glorious meal last night that was on my program but was probably more protein than I should have eaten in one sitting. Because I totally did eat it. One does not simply leave a wonderful steak uneaten in a place where taking it home is not an option. One runs it off over the next two days.
Today my time is limited because it is devoted to a friend that I have known for twenty-nine years. I'll do whatever needs to be done today (after my gym time this morning) because I'm capable of doing it and it needs to be done. I find great joy in avoiding anything negative today...because I'll be so busy trying to help her that I won't have time to notice if the world is on fire. I won't have to think about political differences because everyone comes together for weddings. I won't have to exhaust myself mentally...because I may be doing it physically. That'll work for me.
I realize that we all love the idea of a perfect world where people get along and everything is fair...but honestly, life isn't fair. There will always be some person to mess up the "Pay it Forward" line at Starbucks. Mostly because they just want to be left alone with what they came for instead of the bigger picture of "doing for others unselfishly" that this game we play seems to to suggest we are capable of keeping up at all times. We aren't. Our time is limited. Our patience can be stretched and tried. Our financial capacity is often less than what we hope for because we're asleep at the wheel of managing it properly. And people get put out because a lady wanders into the midst of it and just wants her $2.25 cold drink and doesn't want to play the game. That does not make her a bad person. It makes her Lucy with the football. And in America she still has the right to pick it up and go home.
I've seen the Ice Bucket Challenges on Facebook all week (for ALS awareness and financial support) and I've also seen people complaining that we shouldn't waste water like that when others don't have clean water to drink, some people turn it into a Hardees ad (wet tee-shirt contest) or that it does enough for awareness. That ticks me off. Greatly. If you don't like it...just shut up. Just don't watch. But for the love of all that is good...try to see the bigger picture. It is working. They've raised untold millions of dollars for research that is desperately needed in a really, really short time. It has brought out the creativity of some folks, and has been an amazing outreach. But - of course - some people just have to pick it apart - pick, pick pick. I have no idea why. Their points are valid, but they are stupid in the big picture. I wish people would look beyond themselves sometimes and their beliefs and their rights and their whatever.
Sorry. And if you were one of those whining...well, now you know how I really feel. If you know me...this won't surprise you a bit. But that's really because I'm a big believer in "illegitimi non carborundum." I've been taught that disagreeing with someone does not make me a bad person...or them a bad person. We just see the world differently, and we are both convinced we're right. I know when I'm to the point of arguing about something...that I certainly am. Convinced...and right.
I am tired of hearing about things being "fair" when frankly all of us have something that we've achieved, been exposed to, learned to do, etc. because something was unfair. We've benefited from "unfair" and our job is to try to bring others up to that level instead of cutting down those who are achieving just to make those who choose not to feel better about themselves.
I've never been accused of being a "bleeding heart" and I'm okay with that. I suppose that comes from trying to help people in "true need" only to find out that they weren't really in need. Those who are in need are generally very quiet about their circumstances and very grateful for everything that they do have. Those who aren't really in need simply aren't. Most of the time, anyway.
But enough about all of that. Today is meant to be a day of doing for others and just enjoying the weekend. Of ignoring the clamoring voices on the radio or television telling me what is wrong with America, the President, my fellow citizens and the world. I don't need to be reminded for the next 24 hours. I plan on checking out and hoping for a respite from all of the madness, fighting, back-biting, struggles, fury, and pain by focusing on something lovely.
I'm not planning on exerting my rights today (unless the people at the deli mess up my order) and I'm not saying that there aren't things in life to fight for to try to change. I'm just saying quit picking the nits and back away from the flame every now and again. Put down your weapons and just regroup. Don't hear a few words and write someone off. Let folks just be wrong if they are. Just let it all be.
For 24 hours.
Then go for 48.
Here's hoping that you have a wonderful weekend out there. There's a lot of good out there...even if we have to remember things like "don't let the bastards get you down" - because that's probably the most important advice my mother ever gave me. Or if you want to be all classy...use "illegitimi non carborundum" ...even if it is only "mock Latin" according to Wikipedia.
Keep it real, folks. I'll do the same. After all, the "illegitimi" are out there just waiting to try to take us down. Don't let them. Don't give them the satisfaction. And get over the fact that I used that word. Sometimes it is what makes the point the point that it is.
You get that, right?
Good.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Thank You
I read something last night that I shared on social media that pretty much sums up where I am at this point in time in my life. As I have as one of my primary focuses (wouldn't "focii" be so much better of a word here?) these days getting weight off...I have started to notice that perhaps I might be making other people roll their eyes a little bit here and there.
When something is important to us...be it our children/grandchildren, a project or business we are involved in, our church, political happenings, neighborhood or home improvement, or the current state of our favorite sports team...we tend to be a bit passionate about it. We'll spend hours smocking a dress for an infant who is just going to spit up on it anyway. We'll paint the walls of our home and spend weeks tracking down the perfect comforter to make those folks on Pinterest green with envy and our friends even more so when they find out that we got it on clearance and had a great coupon and free shipping. We'll train for months to run a race...not caring if we come in 302nd...just that we finished.
In my case, I couldn't feel more supported. Folks have been giving me verbal high fives for months. It has been - some days - what keeps me going when I get stuck on a weight that refuses to budge to the extent that I think it should. It has been wonderful to have people notice the work that has gone into this transformation...and to not feel invisible. That used to be the goal, by the way. Invisibility.
But there may be someone out there who thinks I'm putting it all in their face. That when I succeed it just pokes them to feel bad about themselves. There's a line that can be crossed where people shut you out because you won't quit yammering on about your successes. That's the line I've been trying to avoid.
But back to what I read...
THIS.
I'm competing with myself. I'm trying to shatter my own limitations that I somehow imposed on myself through the years. Things like...
"I'm not a runner." (Not today...and not technically...and yet, I can run for 20 minutes on a treadmill without stopping on a good day.)
"I'm too old to lose weight." (I'm 51...I'm still here...it's not too late.)
"I don't do squats because I am worried about my knees." (Once you build up the muscles in your legs...yes you can.)
"My metabolism is shot." (Complete B.S.)
"I'll always shop in Women's sizes." (Not anymore...and I'm not going back.)
"I don't have time to work out." (I don't have time to work out and do everything I want to do as well. This had to be a priority. Hopefully, my friends understand. My husband does. Which rocks.)
"I can eat what I want as long as I burn it off." (The quality of what I am eating is a huge factor. I cannot eat what I want because if I do, I won't feel like burning it off...so I probably won't.)
"You cannot wear clothes that fit because they cling." (So what if they cling? It is what it is. It isn't necessary to have something so large that it doesn't touch my body anywhere...which was my definition of "not clinging" previously.)
"High heels are too hard on your knees...flat shoes only." (Wedges are fine. And cute.)
"I hate stairs." (I do 156 stairs every day at work at least once. That's six flights. I'm a little gassed at the top but it passes very quickly. Plus, knowing I have to do this if I go to the cafeteria is a huge deterrent to go anytime other than at lunch. Even to pick up fruit.)
"I can't eat oatmeal without cream and sugar." (Yes, I can. With cinnamon and berries.)
"I do not want to drink coffee black." (Then I can give it up or embrace the bitter. I get to choose.)
"Black is slimming." (Perhaps, but after twenty years of it in the Women's Department, I'm embracing lime green, and hot pink, and believe it or not...white pants (gasp!).)
But even with all of that, I know that sometimes when someone improves, it holds up a mirror to us that says, "why are you not getting after it?" If it does and inspires you to get after it...awesome. If it does and makes you feel bad because you can't or won't...that's not the intent. I felt bad about it for twenty years with a few periods of success during that time...but the daily flogging of my weaknesses certainly wasn't helpful to me or productive in any way. I suppose I'm talking about my journey so much because it is what I'm living right now. Kind of like an expectant mother talks about babies all of the time or a bride-to-be eats, breathes and sleeps her wedding day and upcoming marriage.
There was someone who posted something this morning that made me roll my eyes, which is why I felt the need to put this out here. She is farther along down the path and cannot resist posting photos of herself impressed with the muscularity of her legs. There's a part of me that is, "Whoo hoo! You go, girl!" and another part of me (probably the part raised by my grandmother) that thinks this is over the line. It is one thing to post your cute new outfit...another to post the muscles in your legs.
The funny thing is...she has come so incredibly far that I really hate to begrudge her the pleasure of doing so. I know the work she has put in to be at this point. And in truth...I don't know her personally. I don't know what she has had to overcome to be able to feel confident enough to put that out there. I don't know if she views her legs as her best feature like some of us do our eyes or hair or skin. I don't know if it was the shock of discovery that running was changing her legs in a way that she liked so much that she wanted to share.
Bottom line: Who am I to judge? Especially when I am doing a little bit of the same. Because I'm so excited that I am moving from Point A to Point B instead of languishing in doing it in my head and not in reality. Making plans and not following them. Trying and starting out well...and then fizzling. Self-sabotaging. Starting again on Monday. Giving up...tuning out...living with it.
So, if you are seeing these incessant posts from me about exercise and feeling better and losing weight...know that this is a journey that I once kept private but was encouraged to share by people who were asking, "What are you DOING?" The truth is...what I'm doing is not as important as why I am doing it. That is the real key. That is what my program has made me face. That is what keeps me motivated on days when I'd really rather choose the easy path. The less sweaty one with fewer muscle aches and far less winded one. The one that used to feel comfortable but is now detrimental to me. The one that made me want to be invisible instead of invincible.
Thanks to those of you who are cheering on the sidelines and who read and tell me kind words that are like balm to my worn out old psyche. To those who lead by example and show me that it can be done. To those who encourage me in ways too numerous to mention. To those who work out with me and tell me that the tight capri workout pants are just fine...quit fidgeting.
I love walking with people on journeys of discovery or as they discover brave new worlds of children, grandchildren, travel, weddings, new homes, new cities or whatever. I am grateful for those who are walking along with me on this one.
Thank you for that.
When something is important to us...be it our children/grandchildren, a project or business we are involved in, our church, political happenings, neighborhood or home improvement, or the current state of our favorite sports team...we tend to be a bit passionate about it. We'll spend hours smocking a dress for an infant who is just going to spit up on it anyway. We'll paint the walls of our home and spend weeks tracking down the perfect comforter to make those folks on Pinterest green with envy and our friends even more so when they find out that we got it on clearance and had a great coupon and free shipping. We'll train for months to run a race...not caring if we come in 302nd...just that we finished.
In my case, I couldn't feel more supported. Folks have been giving me verbal high fives for months. It has been - some days - what keeps me going when I get stuck on a weight that refuses to budge to the extent that I think it should. It has been wonderful to have people notice the work that has gone into this transformation...and to not feel invisible. That used to be the goal, by the way. Invisibility.
But there may be someone out there who thinks I'm putting it all in their face. That when I succeed it just pokes them to feel bad about themselves. There's a line that can be crossed where people shut you out because you won't quit yammering on about your successes. That's the line I've been trying to avoid.
But back to what I read...
THIS.
I'm competing with myself. I'm trying to shatter my own limitations that I somehow imposed on myself through the years. Things like...
"I'm not a runner." (Not today...and not technically...and yet, I can run for 20 minutes on a treadmill without stopping on a good day.)
"I'm too old to lose weight." (I'm 51...I'm still here...it's not too late.)
"I don't do squats because I am worried about my knees." (Once you build up the muscles in your legs...yes you can.)
"My metabolism is shot." (Complete B.S.)
"I'll always shop in Women's sizes." (Not anymore...and I'm not going back.)
"I don't have time to work out." (I don't have time to work out and do everything I want to do as well. This had to be a priority. Hopefully, my friends understand. My husband does. Which rocks.)
"I can eat what I want as long as I burn it off." (The quality of what I am eating is a huge factor. I cannot eat what I want because if I do, I won't feel like burning it off...so I probably won't.)
"You cannot wear clothes that fit because they cling." (So what if they cling? It is what it is. It isn't necessary to have something so large that it doesn't touch my body anywhere...which was my definition of "not clinging" previously.)
"High heels are too hard on your knees...flat shoes only." (Wedges are fine. And cute.)
"I hate stairs." (I do 156 stairs every day at work at least once. That's six flights. I'm a little gassed at the top but it passes very quickly. Plus, knowing I have to do this if I go to the cafeteria is a huge deterrent to go anytime other than at lunch. Even to pick up fruit.)
"I can't eat oatmeal without cream and sugar." (Yes, I can. With cinnamon and berries.)
"I do not want to drink coffee black." (Then I can give it up or embrace the bitter. I get to choose.)
"Black is slimming." (Perhaps, but after twenty years of it in the Women's Department, I'm embracing lime green, and hot pink, and believe it or not...white pants (gasp!).)
But even with all of that, I know that sometimes when someone improves, it holds up a mirror to us that says, "why are you not getting after it?" If it does and inspires you to get after it...awesome. If it does and makes you feel bad because you can't or won't...that's not the intent. I felt bad about it for twenty years with a few periods of success during that time...but the daily flogging of my weaknesses certainly wasn't helpful to me or productive in any way. I suppose I'm talking about my journey so much because it is what I'm living right now. Kind of like an expectant mother talks about babies all of the time or a bride-to-be eats, breathes and sleeps her wedding day and upcoming marriage.
There was someone who posted something this morning that made me roll my eyes, which is why I felt the need to put this out here. She is farther along down the path and cannot resist posting photos of herself impressed with the muscularity of her legs. There's a part of me that is, "Whoo hoo! You go, girl!" and another part of me (probably the part raised by my grandmother) that thinks this is over the line. It is one thing to post your cute new outfit...another to post the muscles in your legs.
The funny thing is...she has come so incredibly far that I really hate to begrudge her the pleasure of doing so. I know the work she has put in to be at this point. And in truth...I don't know her personally. I don't know what she has had to overcome to be able to feel confident enough to put that out there. I don't know if she views her legs as her best feature like some of us do our eyes or hair or skin. I don't know if it was the shock of discovery that running was changing her legs in a way that she liked so much that she wanted to share.
Bottom line: Who am I to judge? Especially when I am doing a little bit of the same. Because I'm so excited that I am moving from Point A to Point B instead of languishing in doing it in my head and not in reality. Making plans and not following them. Trying and starting out well...and then fizzling. Self-sabotaging. Starting again on Monday. Giving up...tuning out...living with it.
So, if you are seeing these incessant posts from me about exercise and feeling better and losing weight...know that this is a journey that I once kept private but was encouraged to share by people who were asking, "What are you DOING?" The truth is...what I'm doing is not as important as why I am doing it. That is the real key. That is what my program has made me face. That is what keeps me motivated on days when I'd really rather choose the easy path. The less sweaty one with fewer muscle aches and far less winded one. The one that used to feel comfortable but is now detrimental to me. The one that made me want to be invisible instead of invincible.
Thanks to those of you who are cheering on the sidelines and who read and tell me kind words that are like balm to my worn out old psyche. To those who lead by example and show me that it can be done. To those who encourage me in ways too numerous to mention. To those who work out with me and tell me that the tight capri workout pants are just fine...quit fidgeting.
I love walking with people on journeys of discovery or as they discover brave new worlds of children, grandchildren, travel, weddings, new homes, new cities or whatever. I am grateful for those who are walking along with me on this one.
Thank you for that.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Beautiful
Today I was looking at a photo of one of my instructors in a yoga pose and another sweet friend that they do through a program on Instagram to encourage others to embrace fitness and the beauty that each of us has inherently within us. Plus, they get sweet SWAG bags occasionally that I'm told totally rock. We are all so incredibly different and remarkably special that it truly saddens me when folks just give up and accept feeling bad rather than trying to shine. Yes, these two are very beautiful women externally...but even more so on the inside.
Since I began the weight loss journey, I have gone from feeling unlovable and not really wanting to be touched...for fear of shocking someone with unexpected padding I suppose...but the reasons don't really matter. I had decided that being beautiful was not something I'd pursue because I've really thought that inner beauty was so much more valuable...and I still do. Fortunately the people closest to me didn't have a problem with the weight other than a concern about my health.
But while I was accepted and felt valuable to my family and friends, what I also know is that within each woman is a little princess who wants to be looked at adoringly. Not all of the time for the majority of us...but every so often. As we get older, the accolades begin going to the younger set and then we begin to look good "for our age" or "in that outfit" or "with that haircut." We're generally okay with that...but every so often...we want to feel beautiful.
Even when we are tired, sweaty, exhausted, just woke up, are being lazy, or with our hair in a ponytail and no makeup on. Even if we have extra weight, or our arms seem to have wings, or there's some battle scars from carrying the children in our bodies that we wouldn't trade for the world. Even if we are forty, or seventy, or the perpetual thirty-nine. We want to bring delight...a flash of something lovely...a wisp of something sacred.
Beauty.
I have recently seen something going around Facebook that wants people to post five pictures in which they feel beautiful. And what an exercise it has been to observe. There are any manner of photos on display from just after childbirth to finishing a marathon to candid shots of laughter or moments from the past that show the delightful child they were at age seven.
I've decided that the photos that make me feel beautiful are those that have been taken recently. My hair is a mess, my makeup has gone MIA, and I'm generally covered in sweat from doing something at the gym. I've learned that for me...feeling beautiful means feeling capable. Not any feature on my face, or anything else in particular. When I feel like I can do something impossible...I look at myself with delight and imagine that God is smiling.
One of the blessings about being open about my journey and about this struggle is that people open up about their own. They can't find the motivation to get started. Cannot find the time, energy, resources, or will to do anything more than what they are doing to get through the day. I completely understand that because that was me for 20 years.
Now I feel a bit like Rip Van Winkle in that I've awakened into a world that I don't really recognize. With regard to my habits, my body, and my potential, anyway. I'm doing things that I wasn't doing seven months ago. I'm thinking differently about what is possible. Not comparing myself to others...but against my own ideas about my limitations and potential.
Sometimes you just have to decide. You have to really just be tired enough of the status quo to give something different a fair chance. To be prepared to do without your comfort foods, your TV time, and your Diet Coke in the morning. To learn to wear clothes that don't swallow you and get used to wearing clothes that fit. As my instructor and friend, Allyson says..."get comfortable being uncomfortable."
I now view "uncomfortable" not with trepidation...but with excitement. Because if something is hard for me...then I know that if I stay at it...eventually it won't be. There will always be something else that is...and that's fine...but this has been life changing for me.
If you want to make a change...you decide. Nobody can do that for you. They can't bribe you, threaten you, shame you, force you, or do it for you. They can encourage and help you...but the truth is...it is up to you.
I've decided to see this through. Yes, it has helped immensely that I have a strong support network and wonderful examples who have been interested enough to help me out. But even if they were in place and doing all that they do that I have been so inspired by...I still had to decide to try to pursue a beautiful path.
Funny thing...once I did...the teachers appeared. God works it out.
Sometimes the path has been really rocky to test my resolve. Full of plateaus that seem to go on forever followed by small glorious victories that keep me from being disheartened. I cannot count the number of people telling me that they wish that they could get to the place to want to start. My answer to that is...you just start. It doesn't have to be an Oprah moment...you just start where you are.
And then you don't quit. Ever. You just keep getting stronger, happier, freer. Your path will be unique to you, but I'd be willing to bet that you won't regret it.
Tonight I sashayed through the aisles of Publix wearing what I do to the gym as I'd just come from workouts. A pair of black capri pants that have a tendency to cling, a pink sports bra and hot pink shirt that my workout partner, Sandra gave me. I was dancing in the aisles to the music as I walked the perimeter of the store. I was smiling and feeling a little funny for not caring that I looked a little like a Solid Gold Dancer.
A funny thing is that lately I've just started randomly dancing for no reason. Never mind that I can't dance in a graceful and becoming fashion. I just move. I dance to my trainer's ring tone ("Ain't No Stopping Us Now") because someone always calls him during workouts.
I dance to songs that are in the MetCon class...even when the yoga students are trying to get in there and set up their mats. They care not.
I'll dance to pretty much anything. It doesn't seem to matter. What does matter is that the joy that I get from movement sure beats the stress I had from trying to not be seen before. Not that anyone was in my aisle. Thankfully. (For them.)
I suppose what I'm trying to say is that even a step in the right direction...done consistently...may inspire you to take another one. And then another. Before you know it...you're on the journey. It isn't always easy, but nothing worth having usually is.
I would be lying if I said that I don't love feeling better, being able to do more, and watching other folks start believing that they can get after it too. To me, that is the most beautiful thing of all. It really is.
I don't know if you'll turn into a dancing machine on aisle 7 or will start training for a marathon. If you'll take Zumba lessons or ballroom dance, or start bench pressing a Buick. You may get into cross-fit or may go pure barre. I don't know. It's always interesting when folks start moving.
Who knows...you make strike a pose on "What's Beautiful" on Instagram like my two gym buds and get free stuff. Sounds pretty awesome...truth be told.
Whatever you do...or don't do...just remember that you are beautiful. You are amazing. You are capable. Never forget that. Not for a minute.
Since I began the weight loss journey, I have gone from feeling unlovable and not really wanting to be touched...for fear of shocking someone with unexpected padding I suppose...but the reasons don't really matter. I had decided that being beautiful was not something I'd pursue because I've really thought that inner beauty was so much more valuable...and I still do. Fortunately the people closest to me didn't have a problem with the weight other than a concern about my health.
But while I was accepted and felt valuable to my family and friends, what I also know is that within each woman is a little princess who wants to be looked at adoringly. Not all of the time for the majority of us...but every so often. As we get older, the accolades begin going to the younger set and then we begin to look good "for our age" or "in that outfit" or "with that haircut." We're generally okay with that...but every so often...we want to feel beautiful.
Even when we are tired, sweaty, exhausted, just woke up, are being lazy, or with our hair in a ponytail and no makeup on. Even if we have extra weight, or our arms seem to have wings, or there's some battle scars from carrying the children in our bodies that we wouldn't trade for the world. Even if we are forty, or seventy, or the perpetual thirty-nine. We want to bring delight...a flash of something lovely...a wisp of something sacred.
Beauty.
I have recently seen something going around Facebook that wants people to post five pictures in which they feel beautiful. And what an exercise it has been to observe. There are any manner of photos on display from just after childbirth to finishing a marathon to candid shots of laughter or moments from the past that show the delightful child they were at age seven.
I've decided that the photos that make me feel beautiful are those that have been taken recently. My hair is a mess, my makeup has gone MIA, and I'm generally covered in sweat from doing something at the gym. I've learned that for me...feeling beautiful means feeling capable. Not any feature on my face, or anything else in particular. When I feel like I can do something impossible...I look at myself with delight and imagine that God is smiling.
One of the blessings about being open about my journey and about this struggle is that people open up about their own. They can't find the motivation to get started. Cannot find the time, energy, resources, or will to do anything more than what they are doing to get through the day. I completely understand that because that was me for 20 years.
Now I feel a bit like Rip Van Winkle in that I've awakened into a world that I don't really recognize. With regard to my habits, my body, and my potential, anyway. I'm doing things that I wasn't doing seven months ago. I'm thinking differently about what is possible. Not comparing myself to others...but against my own ideas about my limitations and potential.
Sometimes you just have to decide. You have to really just be tired enough of the status quo to give something different a fair chance. To be prepared to do without your comfort foods, your TV time, and your Diet Coke in the morning. To learn to wear clothes that don't swallow you and get used to wearing clothes that fit. As my instructor and friend, Allyson says..."get comfortable being uncomfortable."
I now view "uncomfortable" not with trepidation...but with excitement. Because if something is hard for me...then I know that if I stay at it...eventually it won't be. There will always be something else that is...and that's fine...but this has been life changing for me.
If you want to make a change...you decide. Nobody can do that for you. They can't bribe you, threaten you, shame you, force you, or do it for you. They can encourage and help you...but the truth is...it is up to you.
I've decided to see this through. Yes, it has helped immensely that I have a strong support network and wonderful examples who have been interested enough to help me out. But even if they were in place and doing all that they do that I have been so inspired by...I still had to decide to try to pursue a beautiful path.
Funny thing...once I did...the teachers appeared. God works it out.
Sometimes the path has been really rocky to test my resolve. Full of plateaus that seem to go on forever followed by small glorious victories that keep me from being disheartened. I cannot count the number of people telling me that they wish that they could get to the place to want to start. My answer to that is...you just start. It doesn't have to be an Oprah moment...you just start where you are.
And then you don't quit. Ever. You just keep getting stronger, happier, freer. Your path will be unique to you, but I'd be willing to bet that you won't regret it.
Tonight I sashayed through the aisles of Publix wearing what I do to the gym as I'd just come from workouts. A pair of black capri pants that have a tendency to cling, a pink sports bra and hot pink shirt that my workout partner, Sandra gave me. I was dancing in the aisles to the music as I walked the perimeter of the store. I was smiling and feeling a little funny for not caring that I looked a little like a Solid Gold Dancer.
A funny thing is that lately I've just started randomly dancing for no reason. Never mind that I can't dance in a graceful and becoming fashion. I just move. I dance to my trainer's ring tone ("Ain't No Stopping Us Now") because someone always calls him during workouts.
I dance to songs that are in the MetCon class...even when the yoga students are trying to get in there and set up their mats. They care not.
I'll dance to pretty much anything. It doesn't seem to matter. What does matter is that the joy that I get from movement sure beats the stress I had from trying to not be seen before. Not that anyone was in my aisle. Thankfully. (For them.)
I suppose what I'm trying to say is that even a step in the right direction...done consistently...may inspire you to take another one. And then another. Before you know it...you're on the journey. It isn't always easy, but nothing worth having usually is.
I would be lying if I said that I don't love feeling better, being able to do more, and watching other folks start believing that they can get after it too. To me, that is the most beautiful thing of all. It really is.
I don't know if you'll turn into a dancing machine on aisle 7 or will start training for a marathon. If you'll take Zumba lessons or ballroom dance, or start bench pressing a Buick. You may get into cross-fit or may go pure barre. I don't know. It's always interesting when folks start moving.
Who knows...you make strike a pose on "What's Beautiful" on Instagram like my two gym buds and get free stuff. Sounds pretty awesome...truth be told.
Whatever you do...or don't do...just remember that you are beautiful. You are amazing. You are capable. Never forget that. Not for a minute.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Reflections on Cleaning
I spent the better part of this past weekend cleaning my house. And I'm going to take a big chance here and be as transparent as possible to let you know that this was quite a feat for me. I normally clean best if I'm angry, and any angst that I have these days gets extracted from my being at the gym.
Before you make that face (yes, THAT one) about my admission of the missing Susie Homemaker gene (I can trace it back three generations...so far), please be aware that there are some areas of the house that stay clean because I'm weird about it...the kitchen...the laundry...and the sheets on the bed. But everything else just kind of takes care of itself so to speak until I can muster up the enthusiasm to get after it.
If I peer into the toilet and the bowl looks dingy...I clean it. I'm on no schedule...although I have valiantly tried to do so because I tend to work really well with schedules.
But since all of my spare time lately has been used up trying on clothes, ironing, pulling weeds and dealing with life, it has been a shockingly long time since I mustered up enough enthusiasm to do a good "deep Spring cleaning." What better time to do that than the first day of Summer, right?
When I used the word "shockingly" I'd like to give you a little bit more insight so that you know where it was. I don't want your imagination to take you to "OMG Hoarders" shocking or even "Shall We Check Her Mental Facilities?" shocking. It was more "I Haven't Seen the Top of the Dining Room Table Since Christmas" shocking or "What Exactly IS Piled up in the Laundry Room?" shocking.
You know...we live here. That kind of shocking.
Unless, of course, you are one of those people who cannot sleep until you've washed the three spoons in the sink and wiped down the counters before you go to bed. In which case...you probably should stop reading because you probably feel the need to go take a shower about right now.
I started with the master bathroom and Jill helped me by using her little steam mop while I cleaned the tubs and sinks and toilet. I have small white tiles in there with black dots...a look that I thought was charming in 2001 when we built the house, but now I find somewhere between "impossible to keep clean" and "what in the WORLD was I thinking?" The shower is in strong need of being redone from the insert that we put in when the house was built with the idea that one day we'd rip that out and tile it up and put a solid door on it instead of the glass and chrome combination that has gaskets that turn the most putrid color of green if you don't stay after it.
Of course, if you want to be all positive...you can just consider it "LeSeuer green." That almost sounds attractive. But frankly...a shower shouldn't contain anything around it the color of English peas. Just saying.
I won't even go into the contractor knob in that shower that was the one thing I asked the plumber not to use because that pea color gets all up under that ball and it is impossible to get out. But he did. And it's been there for going on 13 years now. One time Big Dave brought home another knob thingy...but it cost $60 and I think that I can find something on a clearance rack somewhere cheaper than that. Seriously.
Bottles of this or that were thrown away, and I finally decided to sacrifice three violets that have been on life support for about six months to that great recycling bin in the sky. They sat around my tub and I watered them every Thursday. The remaining two look healthy enough. For now.
I moved into the bedroom...cleaning dust off of surfaces and taking the multiple laundry baskets with clean clothes in them and consolidating them into piles on the bed. After I changed the sheets, of course, and remade the bed. Let's just say that Big Dave won't have to buy or quite frankly even wash any tee shirts or socks anytime soon. I must have put thirty sock balls and the same number of folded shirts on the bed for him to put away.
On his side of the bed, of course. He always appreciates that little surprise after an hour on the couch snoring to the likes of "Dirty Harry" and all he wants to do is fall into bed.
Due to the consolidation, I now have four laundry baskets...which is honestly too many for the two of us so I tried to cull a few of them. The broken one that has been retained because the others were full of clothes is now in the trash can. Finally. A pink one was relegated to the guest room for towels and the others are in our bedroom waiting on dirty clothes to be deposited into them this week.
Yeah, we'll see how that pans out. I'm betting that the dark blue one will not contain darks and the white one will not contain whites. They'll both be full...but sorted? Hardly.
After moving from the bedroom I went into the laundry room to see if there was anything I could do about the countertop that I haven't seen since 2012 when I spent an entire day in there with a toothbrush and a promise to never let it get that out of control again. Except I did. Generally when people were coming in and I needed to stash stuff...fast.
But I was determined. So, the laundry room was cleared of the debris that had been parked there because I had no idea what to do with any of it. I cleaned out the washing machine (gag-worthy) and dusted the dryer. Am I the only person who gets dirt and dust from the lint trap everywhere? Because of this issue...I keep Lysol wipes in there to clean up everything after every load. Of course, it helps if you actually remember to use them.
I "steam mopped" in there as well and was mortified at how dirty that floor was despite frequent mopping. I would really love to have one of these little cleaners...but then Big Dave might retire and quit mopping.
I love it when Big Dave mops.
Plus, I did find thirty-seven cents in the laundry room...two carpenter's pencils, a couple of bits, and fourteen socks without mates.
From there, I moved to the rest of the home...dusted, cleaned, threw out, threw away, and boxed up and now the house looks like a home. The table is clear, the vincas that I purchased last weekend were finally planted, and everything is as it should be. Not perfect...but nice.
Except for the ant invasion. I used to respect ants. Now I just want to kill them by any means possible.
But we'll leave that alone for now.
I think what happened to me with regard to this current round of lax housekeeping was that I grew okay with things the way that they were. I ignored the laundry baskets dotting the bedroom floor and the dust that settled on every surface. I left the sheets from the last visitors on the bed because I didn't go into that room often enough to care and we rarely get guests without some serious advance notice. In two weeks when we start "Family Visit July"...I'll be changing sheets every week for a month. I want the rooms to feel welcoming and not dusty or unmade or full of stuff that needs to be put somewhere else at best...or set on fire in a blaze of glory at worst.
Last year, I crammed a ton of c-rap into Jill's old closet because it made sense to do so. I could shut a door. I could forget it existed. My niece and nephew (the "little people") went in there anyway to get the ginormous blue bear that Brian won for Jill when he was little for a photography session that kept them entertained for the better part of an hour. Dixie and Riley were included in the festivities and neither of them appears to have any lasting psychological issues from it...so we're good.
This year, I want to be able to welcome guests to a cheery room with lots of space and not a speck of dust.
Okay, that last one was hilarious...let's go for "a tolerable amount of dust" instead.
Life passes quickly and sometimes we collect items from this decade or that, from this trip or family member or because something was a great price and found its way into our vehicles. We take these items and bring them into our homes and they become the backdrop of our days of waking and sleeping. But every once in awhile, we have to realize that it is far better to get rid of that which is just clutter or in the way or just not necessary.
Sometimes we outgrow items and other times we move on to another hobby and the remnants stay around in case we get back to it someday. Except we rarely do.
I realize that we Americans have so much that we have problems like "decluttering" and "weight loss" that the rest of the world does not struggle with because they have so much less than we do. And although God has provided me with a beautiful home in which to live my life...I tend to take that for granted until company is on the way and I want to show them my best.
Why not show my best every day? Why not deal with the little things so that I can truly appreciate and be grateful for the blessing not only of a roof over my head...but for order and peace and joy. Why not show my thanks to God by being grateful for this gift instead of griping that I have to clean my baseboards.
Which I totally do...but let's not go there. Yet.
I like order. And since I have to keep my house in order for a month...I'm hoping that it becomes a new good habit. At least I know that I won't be mortified to bring people all up in this house. Which is good.
There are still a lot of things to be taken care of...like returning the chicken wire to Home Depot that sounded like a good idea to protect our strawberries from the birds but only works if you actually take it out of the package. Like clearing the countertops of items that should be stowed away in the pantry and dusting the living room mantle that I forgot until I saw the dancing dust emanating as the sun hit it this morning. Washing the outside windows and putting sheets on the queen bed in Brian's room...as soon as the memory foam pillow top thingy arrives from Amazon because he'd rather sleep on my couch than the bed that isn't "comfy enough." Cleaning the bathrooms again because I like to make doubly sure that I give my guests a spotless tub, sink and toilet because I'd quite frankly appreciate the same.
I don't know what would make housework less like drudgery to me other than looking at it as an act of thankfulness for everything that has been given to me. Hand-me-down family furniture, the Christmas cactus that refuses to die (bless its heart) even though my watering skills are lacking, and the dishtowels that sweet friends have given me over the years that hang from my oven door.
So. Very. Much.
Instead of grousing about having to clean my house...I want to see it as a privilege. To feel about it the way that I did in 2001 when we moved in and everything was newly painted and beautiful. The realization of months of poring over magazines and colors and different styles. To see it as our home...where my children and their friends laughed and family has gathered. To see it through the eyes that my sister, parents, niece and nephew do...or my friends who stop by when they can brave being out this far from town.
In two weeks, my son and sweet Brecksyn will be here for the 4th of July...and hopefully we will sit and enjoy fireworks but even if we don't...I know we'll enjoy each other's company. The next week will bring the folks...to celebrate my Mom's birthday and do some fun things that I refuse to tell them about because I like planning a surprise and I can't think of people more deserving of one. The following week will bring my France-dwelling beautiful little sister and the "little people" as Dixie knows them and the pool will be used nearly constantly and I'll get more hugs and kisses than I deserve but I'll eagerly and greedily take them over three way too-short days.
I can hardly wait. For all of it. Every second of that time under this roof.
So, if you have rolled your eyes at all that is before you to do today in the home that you live in...and you need a reason to get yourself motivated to turn off the television and get what needs to get done handled...just do it out of joy. Thankfulness. Anticipation. Expectation. Love. And a heart full of appreciation that you have somewhere to lay your head. Somewhere grand that God has given you.
Just remember if stuff takes too much of your time to manage...you have to divorce it. Pass it on, donate it, or make a conscious decision to just enjoy the time you have to spend to keep it maintained. Much like I do when I run my hands over furniture that my Gammy ran her hands over to dust a generation or two ago. It ties me to her and to the knowledge and appreciation of growing up to be just an average kid in a truly remarkable family.
That's what I'll be doing this next week as I finish up this housework. Being grateful. Remembering time that has passed and people I have loved that I miss as I prepare a place for those I love who are coming to grace this home with their presence.
When I think about it that way...I can honestly smile as I pick up the dustrag and can of Pledge to handle those places that I've missed or overlook. I really can.
Plus, that steam mop is pretty awesome. Just don't tell Big Dave.
Before you make that face (yes, THAT one) about my admission of the missing Susie Homemaker gene (I can trace it back three generations...so far), please be aware that there are some areas of the house that stay clean because I'm weird about it...the kitchen...the laundry...and the sheets on the bed. But everything else just kind of takes care of itself so to speak until I can muster up the enthusiasm to get after it.
If I peer into the toilet and the bowl looks dingy...I clean it. I'm on no schedule...although I have valiantly tried to do so because I tend to work really well with schedules.
But since all of my spare time lately has been used up trying on clothes, ironing, pulling weeds and dealing with life, it has been a shockingly long time since I mustered up enough enthusiasm to do a good "deep Spring cleaning." What better time to do that than the first day of Summer, right?
When I used the word "shockingly" I'd like to give you a little bit more insight so that you know where it was. I don't want your imagination to take you to "OMG Hoarders" shocking or even "Shall We Check Her Mental Facilities?" shocking. It was more "I Haven't Seen the Top of the Dining Room Table Since Christmas" shocking or "What Exactly IS Piled up in the Laundry Room?" shocking.
You know...we live here. That kind of shocking.
Unless, of course, you are one of those people who cannot sleep until you've washed the three spoons in the sink and wiped down the counters before you go to bed. In which case...you probably should stop reading because you probably feel the need to go take a shower about right now.
I started with the master bathroom and Jill helped me by using her little steam mop while I cleaned the tubs and sinks and toilet. I have small white tiles in there with black dots...a look that I thought was charming in 2001 when we built the house, but now I find somewhere between "impossible to keep clean" and "what in the WORLD was I thinking?" The shower is in strong need of being redone from the insert that we put in when the house was built with the idea that one day we'd rip that out and tile it up and put a solid door on it instead of the glass and chrome combination that has gaskets that turn the most putrid color of green if you don't stay after it.
Of course, if you want to be all positive...you can just consider it "LeSeuer green." That almost sounds attractive. But frankly...a shower shouldn't contain anything around it the color of English peas. Just saying.
I won't even go into the contractor knob in that shower that was the one thing I asked the plumber not to use because that pea color gets all up under that ball and it is impossible to get out. But he did. And it's been there for going on 13 years now. One time Big Dave brought home another knob thingy...but it cost $60 and I think that I can find something on a clearance rack somewhere cheaper than that. Seriously.
Bottles of this or that were thrown away, and I finally decided to sacrifice three violets that have been on life support for about six months to that great recycling bin in the sky. They sat around my tub and I watered them every Thursday. The remaining two look healthy enough. For now.
I moved into the bedroom...cleaning dust off of surfaces and taking the multiple laundry baskets with clean clothes in them and consolidating them into piles on the bed. After I changed the sheets, of course, and remade the bed. Let's just say that Big Dave won't have to buy or quite frankly even wash any tee shirts or socks anytime soon. I must have put thirty sock balls and the same number of folded shirts on the bed for him to put away.
On his side of the bed, of course. He always appreciates that little surprise after an hour on the couch snoring to the likes of "Dirty Harry" and all he wants to do is fall into bed.
Due to the consolidation, I now have four laundry baskets...which is honestly too many for the two of us so I tried to cull a few of them. The broken one that has been retained because the others were full of clothes is now in the trash can. Finally. A pink one was relegated to the guest room for towels and the others are in our bedroom waiting on dirty clothes to be deposited into them this week.
Yeah, we'll see how that pans out. I'm betting that the dark blue one will not contain darks and the white one will not contain whites. They'll both be full...but sorted? Hardly.
After moving from the bedroom I went into the laundry room to see if there was anything I could do about the countertop that I haven't seen since 2012 when I spent an entire day in there with a toothbrush and a promise to never let it get that out of control again. Except I did. Generally when people were coming in and I needed to stash stuff...fast.
But I was determined. So, the laundry room was cleared of the debris that had been parked there because I had no idea what to do with any of it. I cleaned out the washing machine (gag-worthy) and dusted the dryer. Am I the only person who gets dirt and dust from the lint trap everywhere? Because of this issue...I keep Lysol wipes in there to clean up everything after every load. Of course, it helps if you actually remember to use them.
I "steam mopped" in there as well and was mortified at how dirty that floor was despite frequent mopping. I would really love to have one of these little cleaners...but then Big Dave might retire and quit mopping.
I love it when Big Dave mops.
Plus, I did find thirty-seven cents in the laundry room...two carpenter's pencils, a couple of bits, and fourteen socks without mates.
From there, I moved to the rest of the home...dusted, cleaned, threw out, threw away, and boxed up and now the house looks like a home. The table is clear, the vincas that I purchased last weekend were finally planted, and everything is as it should be. Not perfect...but nice.
Except for the ant invasion. I used to respect ants. Now I just want to kill them by any means possible.
But we'll leave that alone for now.
I think what happened to me with regard to this current round of lax housekeeping was that I grew okay with things the way that they were. I ignored the laundry baskets dotting the bedroom floor and the dust that settled on every surface. I left the sheets from the last visitors on the bed because I didn't go into that room often enough to care and we rarely get guests without some serious advance notice. In two weeks when we start "Family Visit July"...I'll be changing sheets every week for a month. I want the rooms to feel welcoming and not dusty or unmade or full of stuff that needs to be put somewhere else at best...or set on fire in a blaze of glory at worst.
Last year, I crammed a ton of c-rap into Jill's old closet because it made sense to do so. I could shut a door. I could forget it existed. My niece and nephew (the "little people") went in there anyway to get the ginormous blue bear that Brian won for Jill when he was little for a photography session that kept them entertained for the better part of an hour. Dixie and Riley were included in the festivities and neither of them appears to have any lasting psychological issues from it...so we're good.
This year, I want to be able to welcome guests to a cheery room with lots of space and not a speck of dust.
Okay, that last one was hilarious...let's go for "a tolerable amount of dust" instead.
Life passes quickly and sometimes we collect items from this decade or that, from this trip or family member or because something was a great price and found its way into our vehicles. We take these items and bring them into our homes and they become the backdrop of our days of waking and sleeping. But every once in awhile, we have to realize that it is far better to get rid of that which is just clutter or in the way or just not necessary.
Sometimes we outgrow items and other times we move on to another hobby and the remnants stay around in case we get back to it someday. Except we rarely do.
I realize that we Americans have so much that we have problems like "decluttering" and "weight loss" that the rest of the world does not struggle with because they have so much less than we do. And although God has provided me with a beautiful home in which to live my life...I tend to take that for granted until company is on the way and I want to show them my best.
Why not show my best every day? Why not deal with the little things so that I can truly appreciate and be grateful for the blessing not only of a roof over my head...but for order and peace and joy. Why not show my thanks to God by being grateful for this gift instead of griping that I have to clean my baseboards.
Which I totally do...but let's not go there. Yet.
I like order. And since I have to keep my house in order for a month...I'm hoping that it becomes a new good habit. At least I know that I won't be mortified to bring people all up in this house. Which is good.
There are still a lot of things to be taken care of...like returning the chicken wire to Home Depot that sounded like a good idea to protect our strawberries from the birds but only works if you actually take it out of the package. Like clearing the countertops of items that should be stowed away in the pantry and dusting the living room mantle that I forgot until I saw the dancing dust emanating as the sun hit it this morning. Washing the outside windows and putting sheets on the queen bed in Brian's room...as soon as the memory foam pillow top thingy arrives from Amazon because he'd rather sleep on my couch than the bed that isn't "comfy enough." Cleaning the bathrooms again because I like to make doubly sure that I give my guests a spotless tub, sink and toilet because I'd quite frankly appreciate the same.
I don't know what would make housework less like drudgery to me other than looking at it as an act of thankfulness for everything that has been given to me. Hand-me-down family furniture, the Christmas cactus that refuses to die (bless its heart) even though my watering skills are lacking, and the dishtowels that sweet friends have given me over the years that hang from my oven door.
So. Very. Much.
Instead of grousing about having to clean my house...I want to see it as a privilege. To feel about it the way that I did in 2001 when we moved in and everything was newly painted and beautiful. The realization of months of poring over magazines and colors and different styles. To see it as our home...where my children and their friends laughed and family has gathered. To see it through the eyes that my sister, parents, niece and nephew do...or my friends who stop by when they can brave being out this far from town.
In two weeks, my son and sweet Brecksyn will be here for the 4th of July...and hopefully we will sit and enjoy fireworks but even if we don't...I know we'll enjoy each other's company. The next week will bring the folks...to celebrate my Mom's birthday and do some fun things that I refuse to tell them about because I like planning a surprise and I can't think of people more deserving of one. The following week will bring my France-dwelling beautiful little sister and the "little people" as Dixie knows them and the pool will be used nearly constantly and I'll get more hugs and kisses than I deserve but I'll eagerly and greedily take them over three way too-short days.
I can hardly wait. For all of it. Every second of that time under this roof.
So, if you have rolled your eyes at all that is before you to do today in the home that you live in...and you need a reason to get yourself motivated to turn off the television and get what needs to get done handled...just do it out of joy. Thankfulness. Anticipation. Expectation. Love. And a heart full of appreciation that you have somewhere to lay your head. Somewhere grand that God has given you.
Just remember if stuff takes too much of your time to manage...you have to divorce it. Pass it on, donate it, or make a conscious decision to just enjoy the time you have to spend to keep it maintained. Much like I do when I run my hands over furniture that my Gammy ran her hands over to dust a generation or two ago. It ties me to her and to the knowledge and appreciation of growing up to be just an average kid in a truly remarkable family.
That's what I'll be doing this next week as I finish up this housework. Being grateful. Remembering time that has passed and people I have loved that I miss as I prepare a place for those I love who are coming to grace this home with their presence.
When I think about it that way...I can honestly smile as I pick up the dustrag and can of Pledge to handle those places that I've missed or overlook. I really can.
Plus, that steam mop is pretty awesome. Just don't tell Big Dave.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Too Much Time on My Hands...Yeah, Right
One of the wonderful things about being an "empty nester" is that you occasionally have blocks of time that aren't committed. You aren't driving anyone anywhere...unless, of course, the dog needs grooming or if the stars all align...one of the kids wants to go somewhere. It's actually pretty nice.
Big Dave and I really only emptied our nest last August...when we dropped our "baby boy" off at his first apartment in Huntsville. We held him back a year from entering school (June birthday) on the front end and then he stayed at a local college for his first two years on scholarship on the back end. Having bought nearly three extra years...we were pretty satisfied that we'd manage and would fill the hours doing wonderfully creative things like fixing up the house, becoming uber organized and sticking to a written budget.
Hahahahahahahahahaha...yeah. No.
What we did was spend three months trying to get our bearings. It took me that long to quit buying Totino's Party Pizzas that nobody was around to eat and realizing that I was no longer competing for a parking place by the door. The house was strangely quiet with no microwaving going on at midnight and I could actually go to bed when I wanted because nobody was coming in later on.
Then it was Christmas.
Then I started at the gym.
For the past five months, my life has been super basic. I get up, get on the computer (do lessons, write, catch up on what is going on in the world), take care of animals, get myself out the door for work, work, go to the gym, come home for an hour and go to bed. Five days a week.
Every week.
I do laundry on weekends and at least a project or two toward getting my house/yard/car/finances dealt with and do what I can to nurture the friendships that I have. Most of this is managed with cell phone calls either headed in to work, during lunch, or on my way home at night.
So, now that I have all of this "extra time on my hands" I find that I virtually have none. And five less vacation days this year. But I'm employed...so just ignore that bitterness.
Actually, I am finding that the more I have to do, the more actually gets done. I am forced to focus, to plan and execute, and I let stuff I shouldn't be doing anyway go. There is less time to bemoan the fact that time is flying by and I keep getting older because I'm having entirely too much fun just living the adventure that is my life.
I have plans that get derailed like everyone else...and I have a lot of things that I wish I could get to...but they are having to wait. That's okay...because if they are still waiting for me to get to them...then they matter. I have long ago let that which does not...go.
Except, of course, the tendency to want to stock up on things that my son eats when they go on sale at Publix. When I actually have time to go to Publix. Which isn't often here lately, I'm afraid. In fact, I left the penny item - a box of Publix vanilla wafers at the store today because I forgot to stop. Never mind that I need to have this item in my house like I need another armpit.
I mean, it only cost a penny, right? Oh, and the $10 worth of groceries that will spiral into $50 if I am not accompanied by an adult (which would be Big Dave with a stopwatch and an attitude).
This point in my life when I have more time on my hands than I have in at least 20 years is when I find that I can't find the time to dust.
Not that I've ever been accused of being an excellent housekeeper. Or even a good one. I thought "decent" sufficed for our needs. Except the kitchen. I do spend what effort I can muster up cleaning up in there.
I'm not alone in this...as Big Dave put the chairs on the table so he could mop the floor a week ago. As I write this, there are still three chairs in that position and one of the two barstools. I'm so not kidding.
The wild thing is...nobody around here gives a rat's behind. The kitchen is clean, the pool is clean, and we have underwear. I have a trunk full of clean gym clothes and I have fresh towels for the week.
Nirvana. Or something like that.
I think that we all spend so much of our lives trying to do everything so well because we just think we should. I suppose the most beautiful thing about "empty nesting" is that the people we are trying to impress either don't live here anymore or will give us fair warning if they are coming to visit. If they don't...well, they're on their own.
In a few weeks, I'll have a couple of vacation days that will be filled with the laughter of my sister, Mom, niece and nephew and possibly one or both of my kids if they can work it out. It will be busy and fly by like it always does...and I will spend most of the next few weekends attempting to whip this house into shape so that they will feel welcome here. And it will be worth every bit of effort.
But in the meantime, I'm just trying to use all of this "extra time" to nourish my soul and take care of my sadly neglected body that is apparently attempting to forgive me by surprising me all of the time. I'm enjoying time with Big Dave and even the occasional day or so when I feel pressed to the wall with all that I have to do mixed in with what I want to do.
And yes, I even have to drive Riley to the groomer on Saturday to be beautified. Bless his hairy little heart. I'll spend the rest of the day making the house habitable for all of the company that we'll be having beginning July 4th weekend and the two after that.
I cannot wait.
I'll remind myself of that last statement as I am cleaning the toilets.
Maybe the truth is that I don't have "too much time on my hands" but that I have exactly enough. There is time to take care of myself, take care of others, and to have something to look forward to. Isn't that pretty much what I was hoping for all of those years when I thought that the carpools, cheer gym, spend the night parties, chaperoning, shopping, birthday parties, family get togethers, church activities, school events, ball games, and so on were going on? When I was grasping for five minutes of alone time so I could catch my breath?
Yes. Yes it is.
And it is glorious. About as organized as a train wreck...but glorious.
Big Dave and I really only emptied our nest last August...when we dropped our "baby boy" off at his first apartment in Huntsville. We held him back a year from entering school (June birthday) on the front end and then he stayed at a local college for his first two years on scholarship on the back end. Having bought nearly three extra years...we were pretty satisfied that we'd manage and would fill the hours doing wonderfully creative things like fixing up the house, becoming uber organized and sticking to a written budget.
Hahahahahahahahahaha...yeah. No.
What we did was spend three months trying to get our bearings. It took me that long to quit buying Totino's Party Pizzas that nobody was around to eat and realizing that I was no longer competing for a parking place by the door. The house was strangely quiet with no microwaving going on at midnight and I could actually go to bed when I wanted because nobody was coming in later on.
Then it was Christmas.
Then I started at the gym.
For the past five months, my life has been super basic. I get up, get on the computer (do lessons, write, catch up on what is going on in the world), take care of animals, get myself out the door for work, work, go to the gym, come home for an hour and go to bed. Five days a week.
Every week.
I do laundry on weekends and at least a project or two toward getting my house/yard/car/finances dealt with and do what I can to nurture the friendships that I have. Most of this is managed with cell phone calls either headed in to work, during lunch, or on my way home at night.
So, now that I have all of this "extra time on my hands" I find that I virtually have none. And five less vacation days this year. But I'm employed...so just ignore that bitterness.
Actually, I am finding that the more I have to do, the more actually gets done. I am forced to focus, to plan and execute, and I let stuff I shouldn't be doing anyway go. There is less time to bemoan the fact that time is flying by and I keep getting older because I'm having entirely too much fun just living the adventure that is my life.
I have plans that get derailed like everyone else...and I have a lot of things that I wish I could get to...but they are having to wait. That's okay...because if they are still waiting for me to get to them...then they matter. I have long ago let that which does not...go.
Except, of course, the tendency to want to stock up on things that my son eats when they go on sale at Publix. When I actually have time to go to Publix. Which isn't often here lately, I'm afraid. In fact, I left the penny item - a box of Publix vanilla wafers at the store today because I forgot to stop. Never mind that I need to have this item in my house like I need another armpit.
I mean, it only cost a penny, right? Oh, and the $10 worth of groceries that will spiral into $50 if I am not accompanied by an adult (which would be Big Dave with a stopwatch and an attitude).
This point in my life when I have more time on my hands than I have in at least 20 years is when I find that I can't find the time to dust.
Not that I've ever been accused of being an excellent housekeeper. Or even a good one. I thought "decent" sufficed for our needs. Except the kitchen. I do spend what effort I can muster up cleaning up in there.
I'm not alone in this...as Big Dave put the chairs on the table so he could mop the floor a week ago. As I write this, there are still three chairs in that position and one of the two barstools. I'm so not kidding.
The wild thing is...nobody around here gives a rat's behind. The kitchen is clean, the pool is clean, and we have underwear. I have a trunk full of clean gym clothes and I have fresh towels for the week.
Nirvana. Or something like that.
I think that we all spend so much of our lives trying to do everything so well because we just think we should. I suppose the most beautiful thing about "empty nesting" is that the people we are trying to impress either don't live here anymore or will give us fair warning if they are coming to visit. If they don't...well, they're on their own.
In a few weeks, I'll have a couple of vacation days that will be filled with the laughter of my sister, Mom, niece and nephew and possibly one or both of my kids if they can work it out. It will be busy and fly by like it always does...and I will spend most of the next few weekends attempting to whip this house into shape so that they will feel welcome here. And it will be worth every bit of effort.
But in the meantime, I'm just trying to use all of this "extra time" to nourish my soul and take care of my sadly neglected body that is apparently attempting to forgive me by surprising me all of the time. I'm enjoying time with Big Dave and even the occasional day or so when I feel pressed to the wall with all that I have to do mixed in with what I want to do.
And yes, I even have to drive Riley to the groomer on Saturday to be beautified. Bless his hairy little heart. I'll spend the rest of the day making the house habitable for all of the company that we'll be having beginning July 4th weekend and the two after that.
I cannot wait.
I'll remind myself of that last statement as I am cleaning the toilets.
Maybe the truth is that I don't have "too much time on my hands" but that I have exactly enough. There is time to take care of myself, take care of others, and to have something to look forward to. Isn't that pretty much what I was hoping for all of those years when I thought that the carpools, cheer gym, spend the night parties, chaperoning, shopping, birthday parties, family get togethers, church activities, school events, ball games, and so on were going on? When I was grasping for five minutes of alone time so I could catch my breath?
Yes. Yes it is.
And it is glorious. About as organized as a train wreck...but glorious.
On Being Mean
I am not a mean person. I say that meaning that when you weigh the days that I live and breathe and treat everyone with kindness, respect, and overlook weaknesses and foibles (in the manner that I'd like them overlooked for me) versus the days that I body slam people to the ground (figuratively, of course), I feel pretty free to make that judgment. Granted, I have it in me to be mean, and I have displayed that tendency from time to time via Towanda...and we won't even get into how I went though a certain "hormonal fluctuation period" way off balance. Because that was downright scary, or so I'm told. I believe it because, quite frankly, sometimes I even scared myself.
Okay, maybe I am mean.
No, I'm really not on the whole...but like everyone else who is human, sometimes I cross the line when I write about things or something flies out of my mouth before I've had time to replace the filter. Not often, but often enough to know that it could happen. Being snarky about something and maybe even calling myself out on something...I unintentionally end up writing (or saying) something that has the capacity to wound someone else. Even if I don't know the person. Even if the person will probably never know what I wrote. Even though there was a good bit of self-deprecating humor also contained in said piece.
I did that last night...and immediately took the post down. Someone reminded me that this wasn't kind.
I'm human. It happens. It will happen again. Because I'm human.
We go through life and don't realize how we tend to judge things. We see the outside of someone and don't really know them. We find it necessary to get through life because nobody has the time to truly know everyone that we come in contact with in any given lifetime. We just have to do our best to be open to the possibility of friendship, of learning something from that person, and giving them the benefit of the doubt.
I should know.
I entered the gym this last time weighing nearly 70 pounds more than I do now. Nobody blinked. In fact, people were generous and gracious. I was encouraged. It could have easily gone the other way. I read a book recently by an author that I love (Jen Lancaster) where there was a scene of someone taking a photo of someone who was fat on a treadmill. They thought it was funny. When I read that...I thought to myself "could have been me." If I remember correctly, her character handled that, but it goes to show...someone else could have easily had that opinion of someone like me.
I won't even go into what I'm sure me running on the treadmill looks like since I'm having to re-learn how to run. (It's been twenty years since I last tried.) Or how I must look while trying to do certain exercises that are most awkward until you learn how to do them effectively.
What I mean is...who am I to joke on someone because they had a deodorant fail? Exactly. It wasn't my intention to be mean. It was my intention to take a bad situation and have fun writing about it. Because writing about life and what I encounter is something that makes me happy.
Catch the "me" there? Exactly.
So, as I go through today, I'll have that strong reminder...again...that some things are better just left in my head rather than coming out through my fingers. I feel a little like that story in the bible where the king forgives the great debt of one of his subjects...and then catches that same subject shaking down someone else for a debt that is owed him. How angry the king is that no mercy is shown. How he punishes the subject even more because he was so hard-hearted and didn't appreciate the gift of mercy that he received.
I'll consider the fact that the scale didn't move at all this morning my punishment for being mean last night.
Maybe you aren't guilty of this type of behavior, and maybe it is atypical of your norm, but the capacity to do this always hovers over us like a cloud. If we are lucky, someone will point it out. If we are not, we may unintentionally deflate someone who is doing everything that they can to be their best for no reason other than a cheap laugh.
I know how hard it is to strive to be my best. I try and fail at it every single day. And while I am enjoying the conversion from being a horrible warning, I also need to be sure that I'm using the grace that was extended me and sharing that out there to keep it going.
Or at the very least...just stay quiet. Quiet is not passive. Sometimes quiet is kind.
I hope that those of you who are struggling with something find the grace from other people to encourage you on your path. And those of you who encounter jackwagons along the way will know that sometimes people do say (or write) things that are not aimed at you specifically, although it seems that way. Sometimes they just need to be reminded...or have that attitude checked by someone who is bold enough to speak the truth.
I hope that you encounter kind people today. I hope that you are a kind person today. I know that is what I'm hoping for myself as well. After all, there are enough jackwagons in the world without unintentionally joining their club...even briefly.
After all, we've all been forgiven great debts. We've been shown the ultimate mercy. Shouldn't we at least try to eke out a little of that for people? I vote yes.
Okay, maybe I am mean.
No, I'm really not on the whole...but like everyone else who is human, sometimes I cross the line when I write about things or something flies out of my mouth before I've had time to replace the filter. Not often, but often enough to know that it could happen. Being snarky about something and maybe even calling myself out on something...I unintentionally end up writing (or saying) something that has the capacity to wound someone else. Even if I don't know the person. Even if the person will probably never know what I wrote. Even though there was a good bit of self-deprecating humor also contained in said piece.
I did that last night...and immediately took the post down. Someone reminded me that this wasn't kind.
I'm human. It happens. It will happen again. Because I'm human.
We go through life and don't realize how we tend to judge things. We see the outside of someone and don't really know them. We find it necessary to get through life because nobody has the time to truly know everyone that we come in contact with in any given lifetime. We just have to do our best to be open to the possibility of friendship, of learning something from that person, and giving them the benefit of the doubt.
I should know.
I entered the gym this last time weighing nearly 70 pounds more than I do now. Nobody blinked. In fact, people were generous and gracious. I was encouraged. It could have easily gone the other way. I read a book recently by an author that I love (Jen Lancaster) where there was a scene of someone taking a photo of someone who was fat on a treadmill. They thought it was funny. When I read that...I thought to myself "could have been me." If I remember correctly, her character handled that, but it goes to show...someone else could have easily had that opinion of someone like me.
I won't even go into what I'm sure me running on the treadmill looks like since I'm having to re-learn how to run. (It's been twenty years since I last tried.) Or how I must look while trying to do certain exercises that are most awkward until you learn how to do them effectively.
What I mean is...who am I to joke on someone because they had a deodorant fail? Exactly. It wasn't my intention to be mean. It was my intention to take a bad situation and have fun writing about it. Because writing about life and what I encounter is something that makes me happy.
Catch the "me" there? Exactly.
So, as I go through today, I'll have that strong reminder...again...that some things are better just left in my head rather than coming out through my fingers. I feel a little like that story in the bible where the king forgives the great debt of one of his subjects...and then catches that same subject shaking down someone else for a debt that is owed him. How angry the king is that no mercy is shown. How he punishes the subject even more because he was so hard-hearted and didn't appreciate the gift of mercy that he received.
I'll consider the fact that the scale didn't move at all this morning my punishment for being mean last night.
Maybe you aren't guilty of this type of behavior, and maybe it is atypical of your norm, but the capacity to do this always hovers over us like a cloud. If we are lucky, someone will point it out. If we are not, we may unintentionally deflate someone who is doing everything that they can to be their best for no reason other than a cheap laugh.
I know how hard it is to strive to be my best. I try and fail at it every single day. And while I am enjoying the conversion from being a horrible warning, I also need to be sure that I'm using the grace that was extended me and sharing that out there to keep it going.
Or at the very least...just stay quiet. Quiet is not passive. Sometimes quiet is kind.
I hope that those of you who are struggling with something find the grace from other people to encourage you on your path. And those of you who encounter jackwagons along the way will know that sometimes people do say (or write) things that are not aimed at you specifically, although it seems that way. Sometimes they just need to be reminded...or have that attitude checked by someone who is bold enough to speak the truth.
I hope that you encounter kind people today. I hope that you are a kind person today. I know that is what I'm hoping for myself as well. After all, there are enough jackwagons in the world without unintentionally joining their club...even briefly.
After all, we've all been forgiven great debts. We've been shown the ultimate mercy. Shouldn't we at least try to eke out a little of that for people? I vote yes.
Monday, June 9, 2014
The Box
Sometimes God throws you a giant blessing if you'll only listen to what He is trying to get you to pay attention to and act on it. Yesterday, while trying to find one thing to do that could be could be done quickly so I could consider getting the house a little bit more toward straightened up, I decided to take the clothes in size OMG that I've undergrown and put them aside for someone else who is also on this journey but a few steps behind me. I figured...this is a manageable project that I can finish in an hour or so because I clean out my closet every season. Every. Season.
I put on clothes that are considered "summer attire" so to speak only to find that they are well beyond alteration and even tried on some that I was too big for a few months ago and then too small for now without ever really wearing. Like ever.
I pulled out items that actually do fit but that I've ignored because they require ironing and ironing requires time that I haven't wanted to devote to this task when it is gorgeous outside by the pool so I've just left them in there unworn and somewhat forlorn looking.
As I was trying to battle a comforter that kept slipping, I looked up and saw a box on the top shelf of my closet. It is tall (three feet high by about one and one half feet wide) and I'm sure put there by Big Dave using a ladder at some point in time because I had to use my old high school baton to push it back from the edge to get it down. I will not part with my baton. Even if the dog has chewed on one end and I haven't really twirled it in something like thirty years.
I have no memory of what is inside of this box because it has been up there for several years. Several as in four or so. Could be old blankets, papers (although unlikely) or something else but I highly suspected that it held clothes.
About four years ago, three different friends cleaned out their closets and I was present for the evacuation of two of these with the other being so incredibly disciplined that me doing it was just not necessary because she is the Queen of Getting it Done. I am usually there for closet purgings because I don't mind manual labor of that type, and sometimes you need someone to sit there with you after you've lost weight or have put off the chore for way too long and tell you to put it in the bag and quit procrastinating. That the piece with the emotional attachment is horribly out of style and unlikely to return to fashion. Like ever.
I'm fairly good at being honest about those kind of things and take it as a personal mission to either put the castoff to good use or to get it to an individual who needs it desperately but either cannot afford to shop or cannot bring themselves to face the mirrors in the dressing room at the mall. Everything else is then donated. Usually, there isn't very much left over. Which, of course, is good. I consider it a personal mission to get clothes from point A to point B with maximum blessing capacity and minimum hassle for the recipient on the other end.
Needless to say, historically, I have held on to a few things that I cannot wear any longer because I always do. Because I have been down the road of lose and gain many times and there's always that chance that I'll be there again. So, I keep them in the back of the closet like a cosmic safety net. Which is incredibly stupid in that it just invites me to yo-yo right on back up there instead of ripping that net away so that I have to stay on the wire and perform...or else.
Yesterday, I was in the process of parting with many items (something I don't really have a problem with but some of these were recently acquired as I've lost weight so I feel like I've worn them for 15 minutes.) Others were suits that I kept because they were nice and I could always wear them again.
Never mind that they were circa 2000. Yes. But it is equally true that classic styles never really go out of style. I have proof.
But back to the box. I open the flaps and find myself unprepared for the miracle that lies within.
Tons and tons of clothes in the size I currently am right now. And in the right season.
Clothes that were apparently put aside for a seasonal change many moons ago with the intention of moving them to other people that following summer. Except that they've been in the box at the top of my closet since then. Ignored. Left alone. In spite of two closet reshufflings and cleaning out everything else around it last year.
I pulled out each item and tried it on...and found out not only what happened to some items that I'd missed but thought were long since given away...but that I could finally wear everything in that box...except about five items. FIVE. Out of something like fifty.
Needless to say...I spent several hours yesterday ironing clothes. And watching the Hallmark Channel, of course. I will not need to buy many - if any - clothes this summer.
Which totally rocks, by the way.
I refilled the box - and a kitchen garbage bag - with clothes that I can no longer wear. They are going to bless (or possibly overwhelm) somebody who can use them...today.
It feels a little awkward to know that there is really nothing to wear if I go off the rails and gain weight again. But it feels right. I cannot look back and I actually look forward to boxing this current cache of clothes up and passing them on because they are too big.
Sometimes we miss blessings because they come with a warning label that says "CAUTION: TROUBLE AHEAD" - which can loosely be interpreted as "time-consuming" or "a lot of bother." I could have looked at that box the same way. Could have left it up there...an unanswered prayer sitting on the top shelf of my closet. But thankfully, I didn't. I got it down. I opened it up. I dealt with what was within.
Now there's a big blank spot where that huge box used to be. I kind of like it.
All of us have big boxes of something in our lives. Sometimes it is a box of grief or a box of pain. A box of past successes or a box of dreams that died. It may be a box of unrealized hopes or a box of sheets that you inherited from your grandmother's linen closet. Yeah, that latter one is still sitting in two laundry baskets in my living room. Don't ask.
Okay, FINE, I totally need to deal with that.
I suppose what I'm trying to get down to is that sometimes opening the box is a blessing. We tend to think of opening boxes as some kind of curse. We think we are modern day Pandoras. Sometimes, maybe we are.
All I know is that it was joyous to open the boxes and see everything I'm going to need for the next two months sitting there waiting for me to try it on, iron it, and put it away in my closet. About half of the items were originally mine. The remainder belonged to various sweet friends who released them to my care because hoarding them because they didn't want to deal with them was really just not an option.
It isn't an option for me either...those clothes I carefully removed from their hangers last night that are now in my car on their way to someone else.
Maybe the moral of the story is to quit fighting the voice that says "do this" by answering "it's too much trouble." or "I don't have time." or "I cannot deal with another thing in my life right now." with "I've got this."
Just open the box. Deal with the contents. Bless someone. Move on. Repeat if necessary.
I'm certainly glad that I listened to the small, quiet voice that said, "Deal with that box." I really am.
And if you need someone to force you to clean out your closets and you live in Montgomery... I'm available.
It's time.
I put on clothes that are considered "summer attire" so to speak only to find that they are well beyond alteration and even tried on some that I was too big for a few months ago and then too small for now without ever really wearing. Like ever.
I pulled out items that actually do fit but that I've ignored because they require ironing and ironing requires time that I haven't wanted to devote to this task when it is gorgeous outside by the pool so I've just left them in there unworn and somewhat forlorn looking.
As I was trying to battle a comforter that kept slipping, I looked up and saw a box on the top shelf of my closet. It is tall (three feet high by about one and one half feet wide) and I'm sure put there by Big Dave using a ladder at some point in time because I had to use my old high school baton to push it back from the edge to get it down. I will not part with my baton. Even if the dog has chewed on one end and I haven't really twirled it in something like thirty years.
I have no memory of what is inside of this box because it has been up there for several years. Several as in four or so. Could be old blankets, papers (although unlikely) or something else but I highly suspected that it held clothes.
About four years ago, three different friends cleaned out their closets and I was present for the evacuation of two of these with the other being so incredibly disciplined that me doing it was just not necessary because she is the Queen of Getting it Done. I am usually there for closet purgings because I don't mind manual labor of that type, and sometimes you need someone to sit there with you after you've lost weight or have put off the chore for way too long and tell you to put it in the bag and quit procrastinating. That the piece with the emotional attachment is horribly out of style and unlikely to return to fashion. Like ever.
I'm fairly good at being honest about those kind of things and take it as a personal mission to either put the castoff to good use or to get it to an individual who needs it desperately but either cannot afford to shop or cannot bring themselves to face the mirrors in the dressing room at the mall. Everything else is then donated. Usually, there isn't very much left over. Which, of course, is good. I consider it a personal mission to get clothes from point A to point B with maximum blessing capacity and minimum hassle for the recipient on the other end.
Needless to say, historically, I have held on to a few things that I cannot wear any longer because I always do. Because I have been down the road of lose and gain many times and there's always that chance that I'll be there again. So, I keep them in the back of the closet like a cosmic safety net. Which is incredibly stupid in that it just invites me to yo-yo right on back up there instead of ripping that net away so that I have to stay on the wire and perform...or else.
Yesterday, I was in the process of parting with many items (something I don't really have a problem with but some of these were recently acquired as I've lost weight so I feel like I've worn them for 15 minutes.) Others were suits that I kept because they were nice and I could always wear them again.
Never mind that they were circa 2000. Yes. But it is equally true that classic styles never really go out of style. I have proof.
But back to the box. I open the flaps and find myself unprepared for the miracle that lies within.
Tons and tons of clothes in the size I currently am right now. And in the right season.
Clothes that were apparently put aside for a seasonal change many moons ago with the intention of moving them to other people that following summer. Except that they've been in the box at the top of my closet since then. Ignored. Left alone. In spite of two closet reshufflings and cleaning out everything else around it last year.
I pulled out each item and tried it on...and found out not only what happened to some items that I'd missed but thought were long since given away...but that I could finally wear everything in that box...except about five items. FIVE. Out of something like fifty.
Needless to say...I spent several hours yesterday ironing clothes. And watching the Hallmark Channel, of course. I will not need to buy many - if any - clothes this summer.
Which totally rocks, by the way.
I refilled the box - and a kitchen garbage bag - with clothes that I can no longer wear. They are going to bless (or possibly overwhelm) somebody who can use them...today.
It feels a little awkward to know that there is really nothing to wear if I go off the rails and gain weight again. But it feels right. I cannot look back and I actually look forward to boxing this current cache of clothes up and passing them on because they are too big.
Sometimes we miss blessings because they come with a warning label that says "CAUTION: TROUBLE AHEAD" - which can loosely be interpreted as "time-consuming" or "a lot of bother." I could have looked at that box the same way. Could have left it up there...an unanswered prayer sitting on the top shelf of my closet. But thankfully, I didn't. I got it down. I opened it up. I dealt with what was within.
Now there's a big blank spot where that huge box used to be. I kind of like it.
All of us have big boxes of something in our lives. Sometimes it is a box of grief or a box of pain. A box of past successes or a box of dreams that died. It may be a box of unrealized hopes or a box of sheets that you inherited from your grandmother's linen closet. Yeah, that latter one is still sitting in two laundry baskets in my living room. Don't ask.
Okay, FINE, I totally need to deal with that.
I suppose what I'm trying to get down to is that sometimes opening the box is a blessing. We tend to think of opening boxes as some kind of curse. We think we are modern day Pandoras. Sometimes, maybe we are.
All I know is that it was joyous to open the boxes and see everything I'm going to need for the next two months sitting there waiting for me to try it on, iron it, and put it away in my closet. About half of the items were originally mine. The remainder belonged to various sweet friends who released them to my care because hoarding them because they didn't want to deal with them was really just not an option.
It isn't an option for me either...those clothes I carefully removed from their hangers last night that are now in my car on their way to someone else.
Maybe the moral of the story is to quit fighting the voice that says "do this" by answering "it's too much trouble." or "I don't have time." or "I cannot deal with another thing in my life right now." with "I've got this."
Just open the box. Deal with the contents. Bless someone. Move on. Repeat if necessary.
I'm certainly glad that I listened to the small, quiet voice that said, "Deal with that box." I really am.
And if you need someone to force you to clean out your closets and you live in Montgomery... I'm available.
It's time.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Sabotage
This has been an interesting week. I realize that use of the word "interesting" can imply nearly everything imaginable, but I suppose that is my point. It has been unique in that I'm in a new office some different co-workers, have a new route to work, and I have to pull it together in the morning so that I'm not tragically late. I have to keep up with a thingy that lets me in the gate to the parking deck, have to have my gym clothes with me so that I can change before I leave so that I won't freak out if traffic is horrendous, and there's a new cafeteria in the basement of the glorious new workspace that serves both breakfast and lunch.
Yeah, that last one is a bit of a challenge for me. I wandered down the other morning to get a cup of coffee since that is a luxury currently not available on my floor and the the constant 72 degrees in the building was feeling a little more like 52 instead. I clutched my wallet close to me as I passed a buffet of eggs, grits and every imaginable sausage (I averted my eyes at the bacon) and found my way to the coffee machine.
It took every fiber of my being to stay out of there today.
At lunch there are lovely selections that are either semi-healthy (salad) or anything but (fried catfish). I can bypass the desserts with my nose in the air, but the chicken salad? That was tougher.
Needless to say, I have absolutely no business going in that cafeteria unless I'm accompanied by an adult. An adult that says "NO" a lot. At the very least...someone who will hold me accountable.
Mercy.
It has been a week of major temptations...I have encountered everything from World's Finest Chocolate (a/k/a "band candy") at a teller window to Great American Cookie Company (Brian's birthday was this week but I left my favorite white chocolate macadamia nut cookies at the store) to bacon AND sausage at church last Sunday.
It's like that you know...when you are focused on not eating certain foods for a period of time. You'll hit a point where it is possible to delude yourself into thinking that you can have just a bite. A tablespoon of peanut butter turns into eight tablespoons if you don't watch yourself. And no, it is not healthy even if you are smearing it on an apple. Okay, FINE, the apple is healthy.
Part of the problem is the awareness that you've been without for a long time...but the other problem is sabotage. Anyone who has ever dieted has encountered the emotional issues with eating. Feeling thinner than you are because you are so grateful to have clothes that are too big for you. Justifying a little fudging of the eating plan here and there because you work out like a lunatic.
Folks, I am in no position to be sabotaging myself. But I'm aware that I'm in the danger zone. Specifically, I am within three pounds of the lowest weight I've been in recent memory and the temptations are coming at me harder and faster than they have for the past four months.
I've thought about it a little bit and wondered what is going on with me...and I think some of it is a feeling of relief that my program works, that I have a wonderful support network, and I feel almost normal again...even at this weight. I'm stronger in my workouts and I really love improving. But the majority is the emotional component of what got me here in the first place.
This week I actually wore a sleeveless top to the gym. It showed my arms in their current state. Nobody shrieked in terror and a lot of people told me that they liked the top. So, that's good, right? It was a huge step for me, because I haven't bared my arms for many, many moons. This was right on the heels of finding two pair of workout pants that actually somewhat fit. I also did some highly unattractive burpees...but I did them. Not at the pace of the rest of the class...but faster and better than I'd ever done them. All of those are really great moves in the right direction.
But that cafeteria...is most assuredly not.
So, instead of freaking out and sabotaging myself as I get closer and closer to where I want to be...I am going to breathe, stay with what works and quit trying to deviate from the plan. After all, I still have 75 pounds left to lose.
At least it isn't 140...which is where I started out.
Maybe we all have something in us that tries to ruin something when it seems to be going too well. Maybe we feel the need to test it so that we can trust that it is real and not an illusion. Maybe we all need a break so that we can regroup and hit it harder and more faithfully with an eye on how easy it is to get back into bad habits.
I am not saying that I am in grave danger of messing everything up...I'm just perfectly aware that the possibility exists. I know myself that well. I know that the weight is more than about enjoying food. It is also a stupid but effective way of stuffing down feelings, and making people comfortable being around me. The more I lose, the more I stand to lose. The more I fail to recognize the toe in the pond...the more likely it becomes a swan dive into the abyss.
Tomorrow I will get up and go to an aerobics class that I enjoy and I'll celebrate my son being home for the weekend. I'll want to spoil him a bit and we'll probably end up in a restaurant somewhere. That's all fine. What isn't fine is me relaxing my need to nourish my body in a healthy way just because I've managed to lose 65 pounds.
The journey sometimes has parts in it that seem a bit uphill. Those uphill stretches like plateaus, arms that are getting stronger but still somewhat resemble wings, and seeing the "after" pictures that are a huge sigh of relief (from the "before" ones anyway) but a testament that I still have a long, long way to go.
That's okay. What I need to be sure to guard myself against as I enter the next phase is the possibility of letting others sabotage my plans...or worse than that...doing it myself.
I'll be praying that I can address the emotional issues surrounding the weight loss and doing the hard work there that I've been doing physically since February. Sometimes we forget that losing weight is more than just watching our diets and picking up our activity. We have to address what got us there in the first place...fear...insecurity...pain.
This is the next phase of the journey for me...getting stronger...staying faithful...telling myself the truth. It will be tough...but so were those burpees in Allyson's class on Thursday...but I did them anyway. I don't know if the emotional burpees will be any easier...I kind of doubt it...but it is time to do that work.
And it is definitely necessary to stay out of that cafeteria. Just saying.
Yeah, that last one is a bit of a challenge for me. I wandered down the other morning to get a cup of coffee since that is a luxury currently not available on my floor and the the constant 72 degrees in the building was feeling a little more like 52 instead. I clutched my wallet close to me as I passed a buffet of eggs, grits and every imaginable sausage (I averted my eyes at the bacon) and found my way to the coffee machine.
It took every fiber of my being to stay out of there today.
At lunch there are lovely selections that are either semi-healthy (salad) or anything but (fried catfish). I can bypass the desserts with my nose in the air, but the chicken salad? That was tougher.
Needless to say, I have absolutely no business going in that cafeteria unless I'm accompanied by an adult. An adult that says "NO" a lot. At the very least...someone who will hold me accountable.
Mercy.
It has been a week of major temptations...I have encountered everything from World's Finest Chocolate (a/k/a "band candy") at a teller window to Great American Cookie Company (Brian's birthday was this week but I left my favorite white chocolate macadamia nut cookies at the store) to bacon AND sausage at church last Sunday.
It's like that you know...when you are focused on not eating certain foods for a period of time. You'll hit a point where it is possible to delude yourself into thinking that you can have just a bite. A tablespoon of peanut butter turns into eight tablespoons if you don't watch yourself. And no, it is not healthy even if you are smearing it on an apple. Okay, FINE, the apple is healthy.
Part of the problem is the awareness that you've been without for a long time...but the other problem is sabotage. Anyone who has ever dieted has encountered the emotional issues with eating. Feeling thinner than you are because you are so grateful to have clothes that are too big for you. Justifying a little fudging of the eating plan here and there because you work out like a lunatic.
Folks, I am in no position to be sabotaging myself. But I'm aware that I'm in the danger zone. Specifically, I am within three pounds of the lowest weight I've been in recent memory and the temptations are coming at me harder and faster than they have for the past four months.
I've thought about it a little bit and wondered what is going on with me...and I think some of it is a feeling of relief that my program works, that I have a wonderful support network, and I feel almost normal again...even at this weight. I'm stronger in my workouts and I really love improving. But the majority is the emotional component of what got me here in the first place.
This week I actually wore a sleeveless top to the gym. It showed my arms in their current state. Nobody shrieked in terror and a lot of people told me that they liked the top. So, that's good, right? It was a huge step for me, because I haven't bared my arms for many, many moons. This was right on the heels of finding two pair of workout pants that actually somewhat fit. I also did some highly unattractive burpees...but I did them. Not at the pace of the rest of the class...but faster and better than I'd ever done them. All of those are really great moves in the right direction.
But that cafeteria...is most assuredly not.
So, instead of freaking out and sabotaging myself as I get closer and closer to where I want to be...I am going to breathe, stay with what works and quit trying to deviate from the plan. After all, I still have 75 pounds left to lose.
At least it isn't 140...which is where I started out.
Maybe we all have something in us that tries to ruin something when it seems to be going too well. Maybe we feel the need to test it so that we can trust that it is real and not an illusion. Maybe we all need a break so that we can regroup and hit it harder and more faithfully with an eye on how easy it is to get back into bad habits.
I am not saying that I am in grave danger of messing everything up...I'm just perfectly aware that the possibility exists. I know myself that well. I know that the weight is more than about enjoying food. It is also a stupid but effective way of stuffing down feelings, and making people comfortable being around me. The more I lose, the more I stand to lose. The more I fail to recognize the toe in the pond...the more likely it becomes a swan dive into the abyss.
Tomorrow I will get up and go to an aerobics class that I enjoy and I'll celebrate my son being home for the weekend. I'll want to spoil him a bit and we'll probably end up in a restaurant somewhere. That's all fine. What isn't fine is me relaxing my need to nourish my body in a healthy way just because I've managed to lose 65 pounds.
The journey sometimes has parts in it that seem a bit uphill. Those uphill stretches like plateaus, arms that are getting stronger but still somewhat resemble wings, and seeing the "after" pictures that are a huge sigh of relief (from the "before" ones anyway) but a testament that I still have a long, long way to go.
That's okay. What I need to be sure to guard myself against as I enter the next phase is the possibility of letting others sabotage my plans...or worse than that...doing it myself.
I'll be praying that I can address the emotional issues surrounding the weight loss and doing the hard work there that I've been doing physically since February. Sometimes we forget that losing weight is more than just watching our diets and picking up our activity. We have to address what got us there in the first place...fear...insecurity...pain.
This is the next phase of the journey for me...getting stronger...staying faithful...telling myself the truth. It will be tough...but so were those burpees in Allyson's class on Thursday...but I did them anyway. I don't know if the emotional burpees will be any easier...I kind of doubt it...but it is time to do that work.
And it is definitely necessary to stay out of that cafeteria. Just saying.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Last "Official" Weigh In
Today I weigh for the "official" last time as a student in the first course of the weight management course I've been taking since January. I still have another eight days remaining, but it has become very clear that I am likely to finish a little short of the goal I had originally set for myself..which was half of the amount that I have to lose.
Half of me wants to go the route that I normally do as a first child/defeated perfectionist/overachieving mass of humanity and the other half of me is going "big whoop...you'll get there a week late...get over yourself."
I think I like the half that is kinder to myself. That's something that I've been working on through this process...so, I'm going with that.
Contrary to popular belief, people who struggle with weight issues aren't lazy, sorry, or weak. No more so than the average bear, anyway. I mean, there are people who are very ill who are enabled by people who feed their addictions without remorse in the name of "loving them" - but I'm really referring more to people requiring a crane to change the sheets. We can see that on television pretty much any time we are bored enough to flip through the stations. Most people just associate very strong feelings with food. Who doesn't love a good potluck or "dinner on the grounds" at church? What is the prime point of tailgating (other than the pre-game cocktail)? How do we get to know our co-workers, neighbors, customers or friends (the grill should be the international symbol of peace)?
Food. Exactly.
What folks tend to not realize, is that weight management for a lot of us is a chronic condition...and requires diligence...much like diabetics must check their sugar levels and people allergic to shellfish or peanuts need to be keenly aware of what is in that harmless looking hors d'oeuvres. We can have the occasional bite of this or sliver of that...but for some of us...that's not going to be enough...so we have to go with total abstinence as a survival technique sometimes. Have to say "no, thank you" when we really mean, "yes, please!" And we have to mean it.
It isn't crossing a finish line to get to goal weight...even though that should be celebrated. It is the little decisions every day that require us to constantly give up eating exactly what we think we want...because we love ourselves enough to say "no." We didn't like it when our parents told us "no" and we dang sure don't like it when we tell ourselves that.
So, sometimes we don't. And we pay for it. Then in the paying, we just get tired of budgeting it...tired of sitting at the same weight that isn't low enough to suit us...and so we start spending on our credit cards instead. A weekend of saying "yes, please!" turns into a weight gain that looks insurmountable. But we've already blown it, so we'll just give up. Again. Why bother with this when it is a source of such annoyance and despair?
We'll talk ourselves right out of every good habit that we've developed for something that is completely avoidable if we'll just stop right there, look ahead and quit dragging ourselves down. Any of this sound familiar? Because it pretty much sums up the past twenty five years of my life.
Since I got off of my own back, I have felt a lot of support out there in the community, at @Hogan's Gym, and at the places where I've been where people have been incredibly kind to tell me to keep doing whatever it is I'm doing because it's working. Some days I see it because my clothes fit weird, and other days I can see that I really have a long way left to go. But that's okay.
I certainly can't stop now. How disrespectful to myself and to the others who have encouraged me would that be?
It doesn't make the decisions any easier when we are faced with them every day and others are able to indulge in ways that we cannot without paying a tremendous price. But the truth is...like most anything else that we succumb to...the pleasure is fleeting and temporary. It is generally over in fifteen minutes...twenty at most. Then the flogging of my spirit lasts for a good eight hours or so after that. I hate that so much that I look for any way that I can to not get to the corner of "Just This Once" and "I'll Work That Off Tonight" and settle for something far less satisfying in the moment than I think whatever is out there is. An hour later...I don't even know the difference. Except that there is no flogging.
I like no flogging. A lot.
I also look for the little things that do last. Like feeling my legs getting firmer and my arms getting stronger and my endurance picking up to places I haven't been in at least ten years. That lasts a whole lot longer than the fifteen minutes of giving in. As weird as this sounds, when I'm tempted, I now take my hand and run it across my arm or leg where there are muscles underneath the layers that are waiting on the fat to melt away and reveal the hard work I've been doing. It is something good and tangible and a reward for doing that third set of reps when I would honestly rather not. But I do anyway because that little bit of "punishment" is paying off.
Sometimes it is the little things that keep us motivated. We must find them and cling to them and not let anyone steal our joy in the whole painful, awful, beautiful process of becoming a better version of ourselves.
I've had people tell me for the past few weeks that they are so angry with themselves for getting out of the habit of eating right and exercising but that they can't just jump back on the horse and ride. It's too hard. They are too busy. There is no motivation. On this point...I can totally relate. I can also relate to spending time in the gym but not losing a lot because I wasn't working hard in the right way and hadn't lassoed my diet into submission. Insanely believing that I could out-exercise my food. Not being willing to let go of some condiment (like ketchup) or some small pleasure (cream and sugar in the coffee) or something else (Diet Coke) that got me through the day. Beginning to believe that it is hopeless so I may as well just eat whatever I want. Wanting to change...but being "stuck" between disgusted and fiercely protective of the bad habits I'd developed. Waiting on the motivation to change to come from outside because most folks rely on being totally disgusted with themselves before they'll make a change and they haven't quite hit that level yet. That's my story.
I'd like to suggest another way.
Just for today, drink eight glasses of water, put down the sugar and processed foods, the diet drinks and "healthy" bars, and pray diligently for help. Reach out to people who are already on the path. Show up at the gym if you've been slacking, or put on your tennis shoes and walk for 15 minutes. Start today rather than waiting until next Monday. Write out what it is that you really want and put it somewhere that you can read it often (the refrigerator door is probably the best place.) Get on your scale and take out the tape measure and be honest with yourself. If you cry or hurt your own feelings...it's okay. The reality is what it is. You can fix it. You really can.
And then do it all again tomorrow. Just refine it a little more and walk a little longer. Eat more vegetables and protein. Keep going. Don't stop. Don't look back. Before you know it, a week will pass...then a month...and then four months. That's how it has been for me.
In a few weeks, I'll be at the goal I set for myself in January when I was 64 pounds heavier than I am right now. When I couldn't walk on a treadmill for ten minutes but could ride a bike for 30 minutes...so I did that instead. Who was embarrassed to go to some of the classes at the gym because I was so out of shape...but I went anyway. Who took to heart every kind word...every expression of encouragement...and who was lucky enough to have such wonderful instructors and fellow gym rats to get me over myself. I left my pride at the door. I found that it weighed a whole lot more than I thought it did...so I'm glad it is still by the door and not on my rear end.
If I could say one thing to someone who is flailing around this morning with their weight...it is this...do something. Anything. But be faithful to whatever it is that you choose to do. It truly has to be a "lifestyle change" or it won't work. Not long term anyway.
Hopefully, in a few days, I'll post a photo of the goal reached. That "hopefully" was not that I'd make the goal...because I eventually will...but that it will be sooner than later. I'm ready to start focusing on the next goal...and the one after that. I really am.
Half of me wants to go the route that I normally do as a first child/defeated perfectionist/overachieving mass of humanity and the other half of me is going "big whoop...you'll get there a week late...get over yourself."
I think I like the half that is kinder to myself. That's something that I've been working on through this process...so, I'm going with that.
Contrary to popular belief, people who struggle with weight issues aren't lazy, sorry, or weak. No more so than the average bear, anyway. I mean, there are people who are very ill who are enabled by people who feed their addictions without remorse in the name of "loving them" - but I'm really referring more to people requiring a crane to change the sheets. We can see that on television pretty much any time we are bored enough to flip through the stations. Most people just associate very strong feelings with food. Who doesn't love a good potluck or "dinner on the grounds" at church? What is the prime point of tailgating (other than the pre-game cocktail)? How do we get to know our co-workers, neighbors, customers or friends (the grill should be the international symbol of peace)?
Food. Exactly.
What folks tend to not realize, is that weight management for a lot of us is a chronic condition...and requires diligence...much like diabetics must check their sugar levels and people allergic to shellfish or peanuts need to be keenly aware of what is in that harmless looking hors d'oeuvres. We can have the occasional bite of this or sliver of that...but for some of us...that's not going to be enough...so we have to go with total abstinence as a survival technique sometimes. Have to say "no, thank you" when we really mean, "yes, please!" And we have to mean it.
It isn't crossing a finish line to get to goal weight...even though that should be celebrated. It is the little decisions every day that require us to constantly give up eating exactly what we think we want...because we love ourselves enough to say "no." We didn't like it when our parents told us "no" and we dang sure don't like it when we tell ourselves that.
So, sometimes we don't. And we pay for it. Then in the paying, we just get tired of budgeting it...tired of sitting at the same weight that isn't low enough to suit us...and so we start spending on our credit cards instead. A weekend of saying "yes, please!" turns into a weight gain that looks insurmountable. But we've already blown it, so we'll just give up. Again. Why bother with this when it is a source of such annoyance and despair?
We'll talk ourselves right out of every good habit that we've developed for something that is completely avoidable if we'll just stop right there, look ahead and quit dragging ourselves down. Any of this sound familiar? Because it pretty much sums up the past twenty five years of my life.
Since I got off of my own back, I have felt a lot of support out there in the community, at @Hogan's Gym, and at the places where I've been where people have been incredibly kind to tell me to keep doing whatever it is I'm doing because it's working. Some days I see it because my clothes fit weird, and other days I can see that I really have a long way left to go. But that's okay.
I certainly can't stop now. How disrespectful to myself and to the others who have encouraged me would that be?
It doesn't make the decisions any easier when we are faced with them every day and others are able to indulge in ways that we cannot without paying a tremendous price. But the truth is...like most anything else that we succumb to...the pleasure is fleeting and temporary. It is generally over in fifteen minutes...twenty at most. Then the flogging of my spirit lasts for a good eight hours or so after that. I hate that so much that I look for any way that I can to not get to the corner of "Just This Once" and "I'll Work That Off Tonight" and settle for something far less satisfying in the moment than I think whatever is out there is. An hour later...I don't even know the difference. Except that there is no flogging.
I like no flogging. A lot.
I also look for the little things that do last. Like feeling my legs getting firmer and my arms getting stronger and my endurance picking up to places I haven't been in at least ten years. That lasts a whole lot longer than the fifteen minutes of giving in. As weird as this sounds, when I'm tempted, I now take my hand and run it across my arm or leg where there are muscles underneath the layers that are waiting on the fat to melt away and reveal the hard work I've been doing. It is something good and tangible and a reward for doing that third set of reps when I would honestly rather not. But I do anyway because that little bit of "punishment" is paying off.
Sometimes it is the little things that keep us motivated. We must find them and cling to them and not let anyone steal our joy in the whole painful, awful, beautiful process of becoming a better version of ourselves.
I've had people tell me for the past few weeks that they are so angry with themselves for getting out of the habit of eating right and exercising but that they can't just jump back on the horse and ride. It's too hard. They are too busy. There is no motivation. On this point...I can totally relate. I can also relate to spending time in the gym but not losing a lot because I wasn't working hard in the right way and hadn't lassoed my diet into submission. Insanely believing that I could out-exercise my food. Not being willing to let go of some condiment (like ketchup) or some small pleasure (cream and sugar in the coffee) or something else (Diet Coke) that got me through the day. Beginning to believe that it is hopeless so I may as well just eat whatever I want. Wanting to change...but being "stuck" between disgusted and fiercely protective of the bad habits I'd developed. Waiting on the motivation to change to come from outside because most folks rely on being totally disgusted with themselves before they'll make a change and they haven't quite hit that level yet. That's my story.
I'd like to suggest another way.
Just for today, drink eight glasses of water, put down the sugar and processed foods, the diet drinks and "healthy" bars, and pray diligently for help. Reach out to people who are already on the path. Show up at the gym if you've been slacking, or put on your tennis shoes and walk for 15 minutes. Start today rather than waiting until next Monday. Write out what it is that you really want and put it somewhere that you can read it often (the refrigerator door is probably the best place.) Get on your scale and take out the tape measure and be honest with yourself. If you cry or hurt your own feelings...it's okay. The reality is what it is. You can fix it. You really can.
And then do it all again tomorrow. Just refine it a little more and walk a little longer. Eat more vegetables and protein. Keep going. Don't stop. Don't look back. Before you know it, a week will pass...then a month...and then four months. That's how it has been for me.
In a few weeks, I'll be at the goal I set for myself in January when I was 64 pounds heavier than I am right now. When I couldn't walk on a treadmill for ten minutes but could ride a bike for 30 minutes...so I did that instead. Who was embarrassed to go to some of the classes at the gym because I was so out of shape...but I went anyway. Who took to heart every kind word...every expression of encouragement...and who was lucky enough to have such wonderful instructors and fellow gym rats to get me over myself. I left my pride at the door. I found that it weighed a whole lot more than I thought it did...so I'm glad it is still by the door and not on my rear end.
If I could say one thing to someone who is flailing around this morning with their weight...it is this...do something. Anything. But be faithful to whatever it is that you choose to do. It truly has to be a "lifestyle change" or it won't work. Not long term anyway.
Hopefully, in a few days, I'll post a photo of the goal reached. That "hopefully" was not that I'd make the goal...because I eventually will...but that it will be sooner than later. I'm ready to start focusing on the next goal...and the one after that. I really am.
Maybe your struggle isn't with weight...it is your finances, your spending, or kicking the wine or the cigarettes. Same process...just get yourself started and inch your way along from there.
You've got this. Trust me.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Reflecting on the Changes
Today I'm reflecting a little on some of the changes that I've been through since the end of January when I decided to quit making excuses and got busy trying to improve my life a little. Not that every area of my life is squeaky-clean, nor have I really hit all of the goals that I set out for myself either. I was a little bit vague in the beginning about what I wanted to accomplish other than finding a height-weight chart and choosing a number for my final destination based on what average people weigh.
But I'm not average. Never really have been. I'm more of a "pass-fail" type to be perfectly honest. I'm either able to something or I am not. Either passable or hilariously bad at it.
Just ask my old Modern Dance teacher. She gave me an "A" for effort because it was evident that I gave it my all. For actual performance? Well, let's just say that it was a good thing that I was paired with two other really good dancers and leave it at that. Ask Allyson who I'm sure has seen far better burpees in her training career. Mine are kind of in slow motion with a side order of awkward.
I suppose that all of us have something that helps us get through life with our psyches intact. Maybe it is natural talent, connections, the help of others, a winning personality, luck of the draw, or a particularly pretty face. Perhaps others see us as capable, confident or cool and treat us accordingly. I don't know what the difference is sometimes between one person being chosen for this or that and another...but I have more often than not been the one on the bench. Rarely chosen first and usually considered somewhat as a surprise when people get to know me. But I've learned a lot on the bench.
Like natural enthusiasm and persistence will get you to places that other things won't. Being enthusiastic will open doors to you because people like to see someone who is passionate about what they are doing. Persistence is a quality that few people have because it normally initially involves failure...and people tend to shy away from anything related to failure. And these two traits have gotten many people to places that they never thought they'd be...sometimes by default...because everyone around them threw in the towel and quit. I love developing these two qualities because they tend to be easier for me...although I've had the benefits cancelled out by stupidity or poor timing. But for the most part...I strongly believe in both.
I also believe that most of us are capable of doing more than we think but we don't think to try. Sometimes as we age, the list of things we do well becomes more or less ingrained in us and everyone around us so we're good with that and don't really feel the need to step out into a new area.
Nobody could top my great-grandmother's lemon pie in my mother's memory. Nobody could top my grandmother's chess pie in mine. My mother is a wonderful actress and still delights people who go to watch performances and be entertained. People tell me that I have a pretty handwriting and so I do wedding invitations and write out bible verses when asked. If you do something well...why bother trying to get better or find something new to master?
However, there is a lot in us that we know not of. The secret is to find the people who don't see our limitations - or the ones we've put on ourselves - and who tell us that we can do or be more than we ever thought possible.
I had a friend, Lisa, who told me years ago that I'd be a good teacher. I thought I'd give it a whirl to conquer my shyness about public speaking. I ended up teaching banking classes for ten years. I had another friend who gave me some recipes and told me that I'd be able to make jellies and pickles if I tried. I can and do. (No pun intended.) What would have happened had I written that off and not tried because I was afraid of speaking in public or messing up my kitchen?
Right now, I am working with a trainer and instructors who apparently don't see me as 51 but as someone who is trying to get better. Who is strong and capable. Who can run around the parking lot at the gym (slow but still...) seven times last night. Who can do 100 crunches with a fifteen pound weight held steady above my head. Someone who can squeeze out 15 more repetitions and definitely more than the week before. Who wears workout pants from 2005 because they now fit although they are horribly out of style. Who couldn't care less that her hair is soaking wet and so is her shirt when she leaves the gym.
I think that part of the secret of life is to never stop learning. To never stop setting goals for yourself. To never quit thinking that things are possible. I suppose that the older I get, the more I see people happy with where they are, unwilling to make sacrifices to change, or scared that if they drop their guard for a second that someone will swoop in and put them at a disadvantage.
Actually, I have been all of those people. It was exhausting.
I have friends who roll with different interests the older they get. They dream of travel, learning a new skill (my mother-in-law learned the dulcimer in her 70's), or just being a better version of themselves. If this is not what you are doing...then think about it and see if you may be really, really comfortable and are letting life pass you by just a bit.
Because I have been the "poster child" for being unhealthy, I suppose I've gone the other direction toward reversing the damage. I won't be able to do that entirely, however, because of my age and the fact that I have battle scars from my neglect. But instead of being angry about it, I accept this. There are consequences to every decision, and one of the glaring consequences of my poor ones include some veins that run over my body like a map of New England. Fine. But there's no reason that I can't try to be one of the successful people who lose half of their body weight. Because people actually do that all of the time. It isn't easy...but it is possible.
There are changes that have stuck with me such as giving up artificial sweeteners, cutting out most breads and butter, dairy, and processed foods. But every so often I'm not going to act like the Wicked Witch of the West and be "melting" just because there's a little cheese on my salad. I'll be fine. I also feel much better if I am wearing it out at the gym instead of sitting around trying to make the weight come off with diet only. But I have no patience for using ridiculously light weights just to do exercises because 51 year old women shouldn't lift heavy. I'm big on progressing to heavier weights so that I'm challenged.
It actually makes me feel quite amazing. Capable, strong, and like anything is possible. I don't necessarily feel that while running, but I hope that someday I will. I wasn't a good runner when I was young and more fit, so I doubt seriously that I'll be running a marathon anytime soon...but you never know.
Wherever you are today on your path...retired, waiting for a vision, settled, fat and happy, or just a little bit filled with wanderlust...seek out a way to challenge yourself to do something new. I don't care if it is finally putting in and maintaining that flower bed you've dreamed about for years, joining a class or boot camp at your gym, planning a trip to Europe, or organizing your spice rack. Just figure out something that gives you that wonderful feeling of accomplishment and that anything is possible.
I find that at the gym. I find that when I weigh less than the day before. I find it when I look back at how far I've come. I'm still very fluffy, but I'm 61 pounds less fluffy than I was...so there's that.
Thank you to all of you who have made me feel like I could keep going through this. Who encourage me to write about the journey or to just pick up a 15 pound weight instead of a 10 because I can. Who tell me to keep doing what I'm doing because they can tell. Who tell me to keep working hard because it is paying off.
Hopefully, someone out here reading this will be encouraged to get off the couch and into doing something that makes them feel incredible. Perhaps not...but that is my hope.
Thanks for reading. And for everything else.
But I'm not average. Never really have been. I'm more of a "pass-fail" type to be perfectly honest. I'm either able to something or I am not. Either passable or hilariously bad at it.
Just ask my old Modern Dance teacher. She gave me an "A" for effort because it was evident that I gave it my all. For actual performance? Well, let's just say that it was a good thing that I was paired with two other really good dancers and leave it at that. Ask Allyson who I'm sure has seen far better burpees in her training career. Mine are kind of in slow motion with a side order of awkward.
I suppose that all of us have something that helps us get through life with our psyches intact. Maybe it is natural talent, connections, the help of others, a winning personality, luck of the draw, or a particularly pretty face. Perhaps others see us as capable, confident or cool and treat us accordingly. I don't know what the difference is sometimes between one person being chosen for this or that and another...but I have more often than not been the one on the bench. Rarely chosen first and usually considered somewhat as a surprise when people get to know me. But I've learned a lot on the bench.
Like natural enthusiasm and persistence will get you to places that other things won't. Being enthusiastic will open doors to you because people like to see someone who is passionate about what they are doing. Persistence is a quality that few people have because it normally initially involves failure...and people tend to shy away from anything related to failure. And these two traits have gotten many people to places that they never thought they'd be...sometimes by default...because everyone around them threw in the towel and quit. I love developing these two qualities because they tend to be easier for me...although I've had the benefits cancelled out by stupidity or poor timing. But for the most part...I strongly believe in both.
I also believe that most of us are capable of doing more than we think but we don't think to try. Sometimes as we age, the list of things we do well becomes more or less ingrained in us and everyone around us so we're good with that and don't really feel the need to step out into a new area.
Nobody could top my great-grandmother's lemon pie in my mother's memory. Nobody could top my grandmother's chess pie in mine. My mother is a wonderful actress and still delights people who go to watch performances and be entertained. People tell me that I have a pretty handwriting and so I do wedding invitations and write out bible verses when asked. If you do something well...why bother trying to get better or find something new to master?
However, there is a lot in us that we know not of. The secret is to find the people who don't see our limitations - or the ones we've put on ourselves - and who tell us that we can do or be more than we ever thought possible.
I had a friend, Lisa, who told me years ago that I'd be a good teacher. I thought I'd give it a whirl to conquer my shyness about public speaking. I ended up teaching banking classes for ten years. I had another friend who gave me some recipes and told me that I'd be able to make jellies and pickles if I tried. I can and do. (No pun intended.) What would have happened had I written that off and not tried because I was afraid of speaking in public or messing up my kitchen?
Right now, I am working with a trainer and instructors who apparently don't see me as 51 but as someone who is trying to get better. Who is strong and capable. Who can run around the parking lot at the gym (slow but still...) seven times last night. Who can do 100 crunches with a fifteen pound weight held steady above my head. Someone who can squeeze out 15 more repetitions and definitely more than the week before. Who wears workout pants from 2005 because they now fit although they are horribly out of style. Who couldn't care less that her hair is soaking wet and so is her shirt when she leaves the gym.
I think that part of the secret of life is to never stop learning. To never stop setting goals for yourself. To never quit thinking that things are possible. I suppose that the older I get, the more I see people happy with where they are, unwilling to make sacrifices to change, or scared that if they drop their guard for a second that someone will swoop in and put them at a disadvantage.
Actually, I have been all of those people. It was exhausting.
I have friends who roll with different interests the older they get. They dream of travel, learning a new skill (my mother-in-law learned the dulcimer in her 70's), or just being a better version of themselves. If this is not what you are doing...then think about it and see if you may be really, really comfortable and are letting life pass you by just a bit.
Because I have been the "poster child" for being unhealthy, I suppose I've gone the other direction toward reversing the damage. I won't be able to do that entirely, however, because of my age and the fact that I have battle scars from my neglect. But instead of being angry about it, I accept this. There are consequences to every decision, and one of the glaring consequences of my poor ones include some veins that run over my body like a map of New England. Fine. But there's no reason that I can't try to be one of the successful people who lose half of their body weight. Because people actually do that all of the time. It isn't easy...but it is possible.
There are changes that have stuck with me such as giving up artificial sweeteners, cutting out most breads and butter, dairy, and processed foods. But every so often I'm not going to act like the Wicked Witch of the West and be "melting" just because there's a little cheese on my salad. I'll be fine. I also feel much better if I am wearing it out at the gym instead of sitting around trying to make the weight come off with diet only. But I have no patience for using ridiculously light weights just to do exercises because 51 year old women shouldn't lift heavy. I'm big on progressing to heavier weights so that I'm challenged.
It actually makes me feel quite amazing. Capable, strong, and like anything is possible. I don't necessarily feel that while running, but I hope that someday I will. I wasn't a good runner when I was young and more fit, so I doubt seriously that I'll be running a marathon anytime soon...but you never know.
Wherever you are today on your path...retired, waiting for a vision, settled, fat and happy, or just a little bit filled with wanderlust...seek out a way to challenge yourself to do something new. I don't care if it is finally putting in and maintaining that flower bed you've dreamed about for years, joining a class or boot camp at your gym, planning a trip to Europe, or organizing your spice rack. Just figure out something that gives you that wonderful feeling of accomplishment and that anything is possible.
I find that at the gym. I find that when I weigh less than the day before. I find it when I look back at how far I've come. I'm still very fluffy, but I'm 61 pounds less fluffy than I was...so there's that.
Thank you to all of you who have made me feel like I could keep going through this. Who encourage me to write about the journey or to just pick up a 15 pound weight instead of a 10 because I can. Who tell me to keep doing what I'm doing because they can tell. Who tell me to keep working hard because it is paying off.
Hopefully, someone out here reading this will be encouraged to get off the couch and into doing something that makes them feel incredible. Perhaps not...but that is my hope.
Thanks for reading. And for everything else.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)