I think I might have to redo Shrink Yourself. Not the whole Guided Session thing. I have that stuff down pat. What I need to do is to go back and challenge myself weekly to do things like eat more fruits and veggies; keep in mind the fact that I don't want to be a porker and base my food choices on that; take time and savor my food; get more exercise. Those things.
Other than that, I have gained a bit more knowledge about myself and why I do what I do at dinnertime. AND between meals.
The most important thing is that, in the last 12 weeks, I have finally come to better understand the concept of forgiveness.
It's been coming on little by little and I've had to deal with unpleasant memories that have popped back into my head. There were times that the memories got me so upset I wasn't sure if I'd just puke or if I'd completely lose my mind from sorrow and anger.
Finally, it occurred to me: If someone hates you and treats you poorly for no reason, it's their problem, not yours. It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with their weakness or arrogance or inner ugliness.
Case in point: I remembered a guy in a Geology class I took, who rubbed me the wrong way. We never exchanged words all semester. In fact, he sat on one side of the room and I sat on the other. We had no interaction whatsoever.
But I couldn't stand him.
Every time I looked at him, I wanted to slap him. Every time he spoke in class, I wanted to run him over with my car. I don't know why. He did me no harm at all. I have no clue why I loathed him so.
Luckily, I had enough brains to know that my best bet was to leave him alone, not pick a fight or start giving him shit. He didn't deserve to be mistreated and I knew it.
In the last couple of weeks, I realized that not everyone has the same wherewithal.
Some people just lack common sense, sensitivity, empathy, good manners, crucial I.Q. points. They cannot mind their own business.
Others are just plain ugly inside. Evil, ugly, and cruel. They abuse everyone in their path.
The more I thought about the ugly ones, the sorrier I felt for them. It's like they're slowly dying of a horrible, incurable disease and they don't even know it.
And I realized that loved ones will hurt you out of weakness, fear, fatigue, sorrow, their own demons. They don't mean to but they do.
This has made me see my own weakness, my own demons and my own form of ugliness.
I think that yesterday morning, I finally started to forgive people.
It's been an incredible relief. I feel like I can breathe again.
I'm also learning that, just because you forgive, you can still dislike the person who hurt you. You can still distrust them. You can still be disgusted with them and with what they did. But you're free, just the same.
I have realized, too, that the concept of forgiveness varies from person to person. I saw Oprah on t.v. one night last week and she was talking about forgiveness. For her, it's accepting that shit happens and learning to deal with that. For me, that's too vague.
For me, it means that if someone is horrible to me, it's his or her problem. It's nothing to do with me. I don't need to apologize for being on this planet. The responsibility is not mine. There's no need to atone.
With this in mind, I was watching Hockey last night and in the middle of a stupid beer commercial, it occurred to me that to abuse yourself because of someone else's abuse, is not the best bet. I completely understand why people who are bullied and abused cut themselves, attempt suicide, binge eat, drink/do drugs, etc. I have abused myself with food for years. I thought about ending it all some years back. I even had a razor blade in my hand on 2 separate occasions. It's all about making the present agony stop. I don't judge anyone who is in this place. I wish I could be of some help to them. I fervently pray that if any of you are in the valley of this shadow, you make it out safe and sound - and soon!
Anyway, when I realized that there's no need to take yourself out of the game just because someone hates you, my first thought was, "Why the hell should I check out? It's not my fault if someone's a miserable bastard". Of course, my next, more perverse thought was, "If someone's going to hate me that bad, I think I'll cause them more suffering by having a hell of a nice life". It stirred my ambitions a little bit. It felt good.
I forgive my cousin Violet. She's a dissatisfied person and full of arrogance. It's the way she was as a kid and it's the way she'll be til the day she dies. It's her problem, not mine.
I forgive the people who bullied me in high school. I neither said nor did a thing to hurt them. The problem, the weakness, the lack of empathy, the ugliness was theirs. I was golden. Their loss. I still hope I never see them again. God willing, I won't. But, I forgive them.
And God willing, I'll soon forgive myself for being a sometimes-weak, imperfect human being who sometimes chooses Option B when she should've chosen Option A.
God willing, self-forgiveness will make me a size 6 in a week.
And so the dance goes on...
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
I Have Noticed...
I have noticed that:
- When you wake up in the morning and the first thing that comes out of your mouth is, "I hope So-and-So is at the bottom of Lake Michigan (or large body of water of your choice) with a harpoon through his head", it's probably not going to be a good day.
- The urgency with which you have to relieve yourself grows exponentially, the closer you get to a bathroom. And when you get there, there's usually a line.
- Big, really big, ridiculously big hair can dramatically improve a bad day. (Example: On Friday morning I was feeling like hell: discouraged, disappointed, mad, frustrated. At 2 p.m. I had an appointment for a haircut. I happened to mention to my stylist, in passing, that I thought big hair was cool. Once the cut was over, he broke out the gel, extra-hold hairspray and big velcro rollers. When he was done, I looked like Peggy Bundy from Married With Children. I was tickled pink. No more doom-and-gloom. He said that next time I come in, he'll make my hair even bigger!)
- You can be in excruciating agony but the minute you sit in the dentist's chair or hop up on the doctor's examining table, your misery will disappear and you will feel like a big hypochondriac.
- On the nights you need to look/feel really gorgeous and hot, you will put on your seldom-worn, special occasion bra and panties and find in one or both garments, a hole big enough to make wearing them impossible, thus rendering your sexification null and void.
- You can spend an eternity on yourself before some special event - revitalizing or deep cleansing mask, full-body exfoliation, long bath, shave, full-body moisturization, makeup, hair, manicure, pedicure, clothes, shoes, accessories and sexy perfume, and come away looking like a 20-car pileup and guys overlook you, but the nights when you can't be bothered to do more than slap on a careless coat of mascara, a little lip balm, and throw your hair back into a ponytail, you end up looking like a total SEX GODDESS, and the men fight each other to the death over who gets to say hello to you first. (Been there, done that...more than once, too)
- When you've been mad as hell at somebody for some time and are ready to chew them thoroughly, they do a total 180 and make you feel like an ass for being angry with them.
- Pedicures don't take anywhere near as long to dry as they say they do, but manicures take double the time.
- "New and Improved", usually isn't.
- The minute a new woman starts working on camera for The Weather Channel, it's only about 4-6 months before she's pregnant. When the pastel wardrobe gets replaced by navy and black clothes, that's the first clue, whether she's showing or not.
- If you're a writer, the minute you fall in love with a certain kind of pen, the company will either "improve" your pen or discontinue it completely.
- People with the brattiest, least-talented children always give them piano lessons and then ask you, after an atrocious, impromptu concert, "Isn't he/she wonderful?" You can't say no. All you can do is summon up a sickly smile and nod.
- People who insist on respect and boundaries are often the ones who cannot take no for an answer.
- You cannot ask some people how they are, because they'll tell you. And you'll be very, very sorry you inquired.
- Size 10 shoes always sell out first.
- Pink is NOT the new black. Neither is gray, blue, peach, red, brown or mint green.
- The uglier a garment or purse or pair of shoes is, the more expensive it will be.
- When someone says his/her dog or cat is friendly and a big ol' love-muffin, it usually means the dog snaps and the cat likes to hide under the couch and hiss at newcomers.
- Smokers tend to be very generous people.
- Men and dogs have the same kind of hearing. The more you scream, rant, nag and repeat yourself, the less they listen.
- Men, bless their lovely hearts, are just as gossipy as women.
- Men do not notice whether our eyebrows are perfectly groomed or not. (The only thing they do notice is a unibrow.) This means we can start saving more time and money.
-When you least expect it, guys will start checking you out and like what they see.
- Guys are eager to explain the rules of Football, Baseball, etc. to women. Unless one of the guys is my brother.
- Most men have really good taste (except my brother). If you ask a guy what dress he likes better, go with his choice.
- Guys like it when chicks can talk about Classic Rock. I've had many a lovely conversation with the opposite sex over music.
- Guys love it when a chick goes berserk at sporting events.
- Men like cookies.
- People who make fun of others for their choice of career usually expect freebies from that person (My dad is case in point. He's a musician. My mother's family has always looked down on him for it, but whenever one of the bastards dies, the survivors expect him to provide music at the funeral, FREE OF CHARGE, of course. The bastards).
- The best-looking shoes always hurt the most.
- Hospital cafeterias always have the greasiest, fattiest, saltiest, sweetest, unhealthiest (but most delicious) food on the planet. Except the jello. That shit is always like rubber.
- The more you pay for a coffee drink, the crappier it will be.
- When you wake up in the morning and the first thing that comes out of your mouth is, "I hope So-and-So is at the bottom of Lake Michigan (or large body of water of your choice) with a harpoon through his head", it's probably not going to be a good day.
- The urgency with which you have to relieve yourself grows exponentially, the closer you get to a bathroom. And when you get there, there's usually a line.
- Big, really big, ridiculously big hair can dramatically improve a bad day. (Example: On Friday morning I was feeling like hell: discouraged, disappointed, mad, frustrated. At 2 p.m. I had an appointment for a haircut. I happened to mention to my stylist, in passing, that I thought big hair was cool. Once the cut was over, he broke out the gel, extra-hold hairspray and big velcro rollers. When he was done, I looked like Peggy Bundy from Married With Children. I was tickled pink. No more doom-and-gloom. He said that next time I come in, he'll make my hair even bigger!)
- You can be in excruciating agony but the minute you sit in the dentist's chair or hop up on the doctor's examining table, your misery will disappear and you will feel like a big hypochondriac.
- On the nights you need to look/feel really gorgeous and hot, you will put on your seldom-worn, special occasion bra and panties and find in one or both garments, a hole big enough to make wearing them impossible, thus rendering your sexification null and void.
- You can spend an eternity on yourself before some special event - revitalizing or deep cleansing mask, full-body exfoliation, long bath, shave, full-body moisturization, makeup, hair, manicure, pedicure, clothes, shoes, accessories and sexy perfume, and come away looking like a 20-car pileup and guys overlook you, but the nights when you can't be bothered to do more than slap on a careless coat of mascara, a little lip balm, and throw your hair back into a ponytail, you end up looking like a total SEX GODDESS, and the men fight each other to the death over who gets to say hello to you first. (Been there, done that...more than once, too)
- When you've been mad as hell at somebody for some time and are ready to chew them thoroughly, they do a total 180 and make you feel like an ass for being angry with them.
- Pedicures don't take anywhere near as long to dry as they say they do, but manicures take double the time.
- "New and Improved", usually isn't.
- The minute a new woman starts working on camera for The Weather Channel, it's only about 4-6 months before she's pregnant. When the pastel wardrobe gets replaced by navy and black clothes, that's the first clue, whether she's showing or not.
- If you're a writer, the minute you fall in love with a certain kind of pen, the company will either "improve" your pen or discontinue it completely.
- People with the brattiest, least-talented children always give them piano lessons and then ask you, after an atrocious, impromptu concert, "Isn't he/she wonderful?" You can't say no. All you can do is summon up a sickly smile and nod.
- People who insist on respect and boundaries are often the ones who cannot take no for an answer.
- You cannot ask some people how they are, because they'll tell you. And you'll be very, very sorry you inquired.
- Size 10 shoes always sell out first.
- Pink is NOT the new black. Neither is gray, blue, peach, red, brown or mint green.
- The uglier a garment or purse or pair of shoes is, the more expensive it will be.
- When someone says his/her dog or cat is friendly and a big ol' love-muffin, it usually means the dog snaps and the cat likes to hide under the couch and hiss at newcomers.
- Smokers tend to be very generous people.
- Men and dogs have the same kind of hearing. The more you scream, rant, nag and repeat yourself, the less they listen.
- Men, bless their lovely hearts, are just as gossipy as women.
- Men do not notice whether our eyebrows are perfectly groomed or not. (The only thing they do notice is a unibrow.) This means we can start saving more time and money.
-When you least expect it, guys will start checking you out and like what they see.
- Guys are eager to explain the rules of Football, Baseball, etc. to women. Unless one of the guys is my brother.
- Most men have really good taste (except my brother). If you ask a guy what dress he likes better, go with his choice.
- Guys like it when chicks can talk about Classic Rock. I've had many a lovely conversation with the opposite sex over music.
- Guys love it when a chick goes berserk at sporting events.
- Men like cookies.
- People who make fun of others for their choice of career usually expect freebies from that person (My dad is case in point. He's a musician. My mother's family has always looked down on him for it, but whenever one of the bastards dies, the survivors expect him to provide music at the funeral, FREE OF CHARGE, of course. The bastards).
- The best-looking shoes always hurt the most.
- Hospital cafeterias always have the greasiest, fattiest, saltiest, sweetest, unhealthiest (but most delicious) food on the planet. Except the jello. That shit is always like rubber.
- The more you pay for a coffee drink, the crappier it will be.
Crap.
The car behaved itself nicely for 24 hours before the Service Engine Soon light came back on. I think it might have something to do with air being trapped in one of the power steering lines. When I go around a curve to the right and turn the steering wheel, I hear a strange low humming sound.
I spent Friday night in the ER with a family friend. Just before 5:00 p.m. I got a call from B saying, "You've got to take me to the emergency room. I'm having severe stomach pain". I sat there til after 9 p.m. as they did tests, x-rays, a CAT-Scan, palpated the area (when the doctor tapped on his stomach, it sounded just like he was thumping a watermelon). As I sat there in Admitting, I noticed several goofy things. For instance, when you walk in to the ER, doubled over in pain, or limping or bleeding, the first thing they do is hand you crazy paperwork giving them permission to treat you. I understand why they do it, but it seems to me that if you have sporting equipment protruding from your head (or other sensitive orifice), the forms should come later. Who is going to walk into a hospital, ashen and bleeding profusely, and refuse help?
Second anomaly: The free coffee. It's plentiful. And it is HOT. Mt. Pinatubo-blowing-magma-25-miles-into-the-atmosphere hot. The cups are thin and kinda flimsy and there are no thermal sleeves to slip around their molten circumference. The one comforting thing is that the coffee station is mere steps away from Triage Room #3. Nota bene: There is powdered coffee creamer at the coffee station. I've read several articles saying that powdered creamer is actually FLAMMABLE. Good thing Triage Rooms # 1 and 2 are just around the corner.
From what I overheard, the ER was quiet for a Friday night. Could've fooled me. A number of limpers came in - several people with blown-out knees and a kid with a broken leg. Then there was that 2-yr. old who had a slight concussion from driving his mini car carelessly and flipping it. Around 6:30 p.m. a couple brought in their 4-month old, who had a high fever. An hour later, a man came in having complications from bowel obstruction surgery. I learned more than I thought possible about bowel obstruction surgery, especially the consequent pain,vomiting and diarrhea. Now, pain, vomiting and diarrhea don't faze me one bit. That's a typical Christmas in my family. What made me queasy was the sight of the growths on that poor man's face. Finally, around 8 p.m., I saw my first bleeder. A man had been playing with his 4-yr. old son. The kid seized a toy and flung it indiscriminately, accidentally striking his progenitor in the face. The poor man had quite the nasty gash in his eyebrow that needed stitches.
Around 21:00, B was finally admitted and wheeled up to a room. The problem? Possible bowel obstruction. No clue how he got it. All I know is that his poor gut was terribly distended. He looked like he was in his 3rd trimester. I kept wanting to ask him if he'd picked out any names for the baby.
I'm going to go up and visit him in a little while. With any luck the tube they snaked down his nose will be out and he'll be able to talk. I also hope I run into his doctor. That guy was HOT. Married, unfortunately. Well, he's neither the only hot male at the hospital nor the only delectable fish in the sea...
...And speaking of delectable fish in the sea, I have a dishy new neighbor, named Josh. He could eat crackers in my bed anytime he wanted to and not one word of complaint would you hear from my lips.
This means I'm probably going to have to wear makeup when I leave the house, now.
I spent Friday night in the ER with a family friend. Just before 5:00 p.m. I got a call from B saying, "You've got to take me to the emergency room. I'm having severe stomach pain". I sat there til after 9 p.m. as they did tests, x-rays, a CAT-Scan, palpated the area (when the doctor tapped on his stomach, it sounded just like he was thumping a watermelon). As I sat there in Admitting, I noticed several goofy things. For instance, when you walk in to the ER, doubled over in pain, or limping or bleeding, the first thing they do is hand you crazy paperwork giving them permission to treat you. I understand why they do it, but it seems to me that if you have sporting equipment protruding from your head (or other sensitive orifice), the forms should come later. Who is going to walk into a hospital, ashen and bleeding profusely, and refuse help?
Second anomaly: The free coffee. It's plentiful. And it is HOT. Mt. Pinatubo-blowing-magma-25-miles-into-the-atmosphere hot. The cups are thin and kinda flimsy and there are no thermal sleeves to slip around their molten circumference. The one comforting thing is that the coffee station is mere steps away from Triage Room #3. Nota bene: There is powdered coffee creamer at the coffee station. I've read several articles saying that powdered creamer is actually FLAMMABLE. Good thing Triage Rooms # 1 and 2 are just around the corner.
From what I overheard, the ER was quiet for a Friday night. Could've fooled me. A number of limpers came in - several people with blown-out knees and a kid with a broken leg. Then there was that 2-yr. old who had a slight concussion from driving his mini car carelessly and flipping it. Around 6:30 p.m. a couple brought in their 4-month old, who had a high fever. An hour later, a man came in having complications from bowel obstruction surgery. I learned more than I thought possible about bowel obstruction surgery, especially the consequent pain,vomiting and diarrhea. Now, pain, vomiting and diarrhea don't faze me one bit. That's a typical Christmas in my family. What made me queasy was the sight of the growths on that poor man's face. Finally, around 8 p.m., I saw my first bleeder. A man had been playing with his 4-yr. old son. The kid seized a toy and flung it indiscriminately, accidentally striking his progenitor in the face. The poor man had quite the nasty gash in his eyebrow that needed stitches.
Around 21:00, B was finally admitted and wheeled up to a room. The problem? Possible bowel obstruction. No clue how he got it. All I know is that his poor gut was terribly distended. He looked like he was in his 3rd trimester. I kept wanting to ask him if he'd picked out any names for the baby.
I'm going to go up and visit him in a little while. With any luck the tube they snaked down his nose will be out and he'll be able to talk. I also hope I run into his doctor. That guy was HOT. Married, unfortunately. Well, he's neither the only hot male at the hospital nor the only delectable fish in the sea...
...And speaking of delectable fish in the sea, I have a dishy new neighbor, named Josh. He could eat crackers in my bed anytime he wanted to and not one word of complaint would you hear from my lips.
This means I'm probably going to have to wear makeup when I leave the house, now.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
"I Been Drivin' All Night, My Hands Wet On The Wheel"
At long last, my car is fixed!!! God bless the gentleman who worked on it. He did a damn fine job, too. For a vehicle that's going on 10 years old, it runs like it's almost new. It's purring like a kitten and right now, I am too.
I'm so glad I didn't go with the dealer's garage. For the leaky fuel gasket alone they were going to gouge me for over $500. The other place only charged $368. The guy went over my car with a fine tooth comb. Took it in at 9 a.m. yesterday and didn't get it back til around 5 p.m. He did a ton: Fuel intake gasket replaced, fuel injector cleaned out, power steering flushed, a bunch of other stuff (I'll have to check the invoice), checked why the engine coolant light was on and fixed whatever the problem is, then changed the oil and replaced the air filter. The dealer missed a number of issues that this guy found and the jobs that needed doing were going to cost a minimum of $8-900. I got everything for $678. That's still pretty high but I k now I saved at least $150-200, if not more. I'm pleased. I plan to go there for tires.
So, for the first time in MONTHS, I went for a nice, long, leisurely drive last night. It was so nice to be able to idle at red lights without the car shuddering like a paint shaker (thanks, crappy fuel injector) or squealing horribly (I'm talking about you, icky power steering). It was also nice not to have the instrument panel not lit up like the Vegas Strip (Nobody likes seeing "Service Engine Soon" or the Engine Coolant light staring them in the face). I just put some good music on and let my baby do its thing. I made sure to get up extra early so I could get a coffee, go to the lake and see the sun come up. Mother Nature did not disappoint.
Tonight, I hope to go down to the Paine Art Center in Oshkosh and attend a lecture on the current exhibit. If I don't make it tonight, there'll be a repeat performance next Friday afternoon.
I feel like I can finally start living and I'm thrilled!
I'm so glad I didn't go with the dealer's garage. For the leaky fuel gasket alone they were going to gouge me for over $500. The other place only charged $368. The guy went over my car with a fine tooth comb. Took it in at 9 a.m. yesterday and didn't get it back til around 5 p.m. He did a ton: Fuel intake gasket replaced, fuel injector cleaned out, power steering flushed, a bunch of other stuff (I'll have to check the invoice), checked why the engine coolant light was on and fixed whatever the problem is, then changed the oil and replaced the air filter. The dealer missed a number of issues that this guy found and the jobs that needed doing were going to cost a minimum of $8-900. I got everything for $678. That's still pretty high but I k now I saved at least $150-200, if not more. I'm pleased. I plan to go there for tires.
Tonight, I hope to go down to the Paine Art Center in Oshkosh and attend a lecture on the current exhibit. If I don't make it tonight, there'll be a repeat performance next Friday afternoon.
I feel like I can finally start living and I'm thrilled!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Monday.
On the Shrink Yourself forums this evening, some kind soul posted the link to a great little YouTube video that shows what one pound of body fat looks like. Just looking at the anatomical model of body goo makes me feel slightly ill. Can you imagine something that revolting living in your body? It makes me want to never eat crappy food or skip exercise again. It makes me want to live on salad and fish, nuts and fruits, whole grains and water. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sd1bQPnPJXQ&list=FLYXyAjolNrcAmofY8_Jnxgw&index=1
Another good visual for 1 pound of stubborn, ugly fat is a pound of butter. Imagine 4 sticks of butter in your arteries, around your organs and on your thighs. Nasty, isn't it? Have you poked out your mind's eye yet?
So, never again will I step on the scale and lament, "That's it? That's all I lost after one week of eating spinach and exercising my ass off? One measly pound?" Instead, I shall do the victory dance to end all victory dances.
Speaking of exercising my ass off, I have resumed T-Tapp. Since I have gone so long without physical activity, I will have to do the 15-minute Basic Workout to reaccustom myself. I have also begun dry brushing my body in the hopes of speeding up the process. Right now, my goal is to get into these jeans by or before November 12th. That is the date of the local team's home opener and when I hope to set eyes on CG again. I want those jeans to either fit perfectly or, better yet, be a little big. They're awful, aren't they? Enormous. Ginormous. Shamefully big. And yet, they run small. The label says they're my size but they're cut small. I have to work my way into them.
My ultimate goal? To fit into sexy knickers. I bought a pair 7 or 8 years ago as motivation and inspiration to get busy, get fit, and lose enough hideous bulk so that I could fit into them and others of their ilk. What lady doesn't like pretty, lacy, sexy lingerie? I know I do. Unfortunately, the size of my derriere, hips, thighs and gut prevent me from wearing cute things. Frankly, I'm sick of it.
Any new insights? Yeah. The most important one I've gotten in the past week is that, for a lot of people (myself included), fat can be proof of mental/emotional pain. When you begin bingeing at an early age, it's proof that you've got more pain and upset than you know how to deal with. Through inexperience or because of your young age, you lack the skills to deal with it in more effective ways.
Insight #2: Why so many people (myself included) eat when anxious/scared: Adrenaline. You get that adrenaline running through your system, it awakens the butterflies in your tummy. You want calming and soothing, so you chow down. I notice that I do this when I'm excited in a positive way, too. The excitement butterflies feel the same as the anxiety butterflies. A family friend asked if I'd drive up to Winnipeg with him next Autumn. I love Winnipeg, I love to travel and I love a road trip. I was and still am stoked. I found myself eating to calm the butterflies.
Insight #3: I've got to learn how to forgive. Yeah, I've taken my fair share of shit from other people. Sometimes I think I got more than my fair share - who hasn't? I was talking to my favorite cousin late last night and she's in the process of learning to forgive. She told me that, as an adult, she's learning that a lot of the shit she endured when she was young was not due to people's indifference but rather due to the fact that they were so overwhelmed with difficulties in their own lives that they just couldn't give her the help she wanted/needed. I can see how this happened with my family and me. It's a hard pill to swallow, especially with the way I always thought that everything was my fault when I was little. I wonder if the reason why I'm clinging to the resentment is because I want someone or something to make it all up to me. And it's just not going to f***ing happen.
O.k., enough heavy crap. I haven't exactly been Little Mary Sunshine lately. It's kind of scary what comes bubbling up when you begin dealing with dilemmas without Cheetos, General Tso's and Snickers bars.
Anything positive going on? Well, the car goes in tomorrow. I can hardly wait. God willing, it will be fixed well and as inexpensively as possible. When it is sea-worthy, so to speak, I plan on going for a long, long drive. Gas prices be damned!
Wednesday night I'm thinking of attending a lecture at the Paine Art Center down in Oshkosh. The curator of the museum is going to be giving a little lecture on the current exhibit and I'd dearly love to attend. If I can't go this week, there is another lecture on the 23rd. I'd also love to sojourn in the beautiful gardens before everything goes to wrack and ruin. I hope I'll get there in time. This week, the night temperatures are forecast to go down around freezing, so I'm sure that'll put paid to all the flowers and plants in the Paine gardens, particularly the roses. Which is a shame.
Next Tuesday night is the Garrison Keillor show at the Fox Cities P.A.C. I wonder if he's as excited to see me as I am to see him? Keillor is desirous of retiring in the next year or two, so I'm doubly grateful for a chance to see him live. He says that he's searching for someone to take over his live shows for him. With any luck, that search will take a couple of years and he'll come back to this area for at least one more live show. I'm hoping next week's performance won't consist of him standing on the stage, bitching about politics. I love GK's writing, I love his Prairie Home Companion radio shows but when he talks politics, it's no fun. He comes off kind of whiny and belligerent. If I want to hear someone whine and bitch about the Federal govt., I'll stay home and turn on MSNBC or CNN or FoxNews and listen to the pundits kvetch. Yawn...
Another good visual for 1 pound of stubborn, ugly fat is a pound of butter. Imagine 4 sticks of butter in your arteries, around your organs and on your thighs. Nasty, isn't it? Have you poked out your mind's eye yet?
So, never again will I step on the scale and lament, "That's it? That's all I lost after one week of eating spinach and exercising my ass off? One measly pound?" Instead, I shall do the victory dance to end all victory dances.
My ultimate goal? To fit into sexy knickers. I bought a pair 7 or 8 years ago as motivation and inspiration to get busy, get fit, and lose enough hideous bulk so that I could fit into them and others of their ilk. What lady doesn't like pretty, lacy, sexy lingerie? I know I do. Unfortunately, the size of my derriere, hips, thighs and gut prevent me from wearing cute things. Frankly, I'm sick of it.
Any new insights? Yeah. The most important one I've gotten in the past week is that, for a lot of people (myself included), fat can be proof of mental/emotional pain. When you begin bingeing at an early age, it's proof that you've got more pain and upset than you know how to deal with. Through inexperience or because of your young age, you lack the skills to deal with it in more effective ways.
Insight #2: Why so many people (myself included) eat when anxious/scared: Adrenaline. You get that adrenaline running through your system, it awakens the butterflies in your tummy. You want calming and soothing, so you chow down. I notice that I do this when I'm excited in a positive way, too. The excitement butterflies feel the same as the anxiety butterflies. A family friend asked if I'd drive up to Winnipeg with him next Autumn. I love Winnipeg, I love to travel and I love a road trip. I was and still am stoked. I found myself eating to calm the butterflies.
Insight #3: I've got to learn how to forgive. Yeah, I've taken my fair share of shit from other people. Sometimes I think I got more than my fair share - who hasn't? I was talking to my favorite cousin late last night and she's in the process of learning to forgive. She told me that, as an adult, she's learning that a lot of the shit she endured when she was young was not due to people's indifference but rather due to the fact that they were so overwhelmed with difficulties in their own lives that they just couldn't give her the help she wanted/needed. I can see how this happened with my family and me. It's a hard pill to swallow, especially with the way I always thought that everything was my fault when I was little. I wonder if the reason why I'm clinging to the resentment is because I want someone or something to make it all up to me. And it's just not going to f***ing happen.
O.k., enough heavy crap. I haven't exactly been Little Mary Sunshine lately. It's kind of scary what comes bubbling up when you begin dealing with dilemmas without Cheetos, General Tso's and Snickers bars.
Anything positive going on? Well, the car goes in tomorrow. I can hardly wait. God willing, it will be fixed well and as inexpensively as possible. When it is sea-worthy, so to speak, I plan on going for a long, long drive. Gas prices be damned!
Wednesday night I'm thinking of attending a lecture at the Paine Art Center down in Oshkosh. The curator of the museum is going to be giving a little lecture on the current exhibit and I'd dearly love to attend. If I can't go this week, there is another lecture on the 23rd. I'd also love to sojourn in the beautiful gardens before everything goes to wrack and ruin. I hope I'll get there in time. This week, the night temperatures are forecast to go down around freezing, so I'm sure that'll put paid to all the flowers and plants in the Paine gardens, particularly the roses. Which is a shame.
Next Tuesday night is the Garrison Keillor show at the Fox Cities P.A.C. I wonder if he's as excited to see me as I am to see him? Keillor is desirous of retiring in the next year or two, so I'm doubly grateful for a chance to see him live. He says that he's searching for someone to take over his live shows for him. With any luck, that search will take a couple of years and he'll come back to this area for at least one more live show. I'm hoping next week's performance won't consist of him standing on the stage, bitching about politics. I love GK's writing, I love his Prairie Home Companion radio shows but when he talks politics, it's no fun. He comes off kind of whiny and belligerent. If I want to hear someone whine and bitch about the Federal govt., I'll stay home and turn on MSNBC or CNN or FoxNews and listen to the pundits kvetch. Yawn...
Friday, September 9, 2011
Dredging Up Muck and Playin' The Waiting Game.
I can't believe it's been a month since my last post. It's been a strange, mostly shitty month. Two good things? It's finally cooled off and the car goes in on Tuesday. Oh, and Domino's does a fantastic sub. There. 3 positive things.
I'm about to head into my 6th week of the Shrink Yourself online program. I haven't really lost more than a couple of pounds but I'm not bingeing or overeating, either, and for me, that's huge. Typically, the smallest thing will have me dumping groceries down my neck.
What's going on right now is I'm asserting myself a lot more (which is also huge for me. I've always swallowed everything and blown up at a later date) and a lot of shit is coming up from the past. For instance, at 4:00 yesterday morning I remembered being 7 years old and getting slapped across the face hard in the locker room of the local YMCA. Apparently, an older girl, whose little sister I'd been playing with, accused me of calling her a bitch. At the age of 7, I was not using language like that. I never called her anything, but she said I did and she drilled me in the face, wet-handed. I recall blowing up and trying to hit her back, only to be restrained by 2 of her friends. When I tried to get help from a lifeguard, I was told that there was nothing to be done and that if I'd been slapped, I'd probably done something to bring it on. The only person who stood up for me was the bitch's 3rd friend, who read her the riot act about not smacking little kids. Let me tell you, this memory had me alternating between shame, grief and blind rage. If I were ever to see that bitch again (and I'm sure I won't), I think I'd be hard-pressed not to rip her face off. I'd settle for tearing into her verbally, and making her cry.
I recalled having to sprint home after school in 5th grade to avoid getting my ass kicked. Sometimes I didn't make it. On a couple of occasions I had to hide out in the bathroom of the church that was a couple of blocks from my home.
I recalled joining an after-school intramural basketball program and getting punched in the gut by a little bastard named Bradley, because I made a mistake during a dribble-and-pass drill.
I remembered moving to Minnesota after 5th grade and encountering my next tormentor, Chris, who started in on me, unprovoked. There I sat, doing my Math like a good girl, and he lit in to me. One morning during gym class, a few months later, he began attacking me with a hockey stick, covering me with bruises from knee to waist and blackening my eye with the blade of the stick, leaving a scar that remains to this day. That was when something in my brain snapped and I hauled off and bitch-slapped the little fucker across the face, as hard as I could. Then, I got him in deep shit when I went to the nurse for First Aid. Happily, he never screwed with me again.
I remembered being left out of games at recess from grades 1-4, all the moving we did, having a hard time making friends in the new places, not being allowed to sit with anyone at lunch.
Fast forward to high school. My 5th new school in 6 years. Right from the beginning life was hell on earth. Being stuck between two groups of evil fuckers, intent on wiping me out: A group of 6-8 nasty, horrible girls and a group of 8 wretched, awful boys. The girls ensured my isolation by turning potential friends against me and the boys delighted in telling me what a dirty, foul, disgusting, ill-mannered, fat, ugly, worthless whore I was. I think "Frigid whore" was my favorite epithet. So much scope for imagination. I always wondered how a frigid woman could be a whore and vice versa. Hours of entertainment. The two groups were in addition to random, group-less bastards who roved the hallways, looking for hapless innocents. In 9th I was in tears on almost a daily basis. I puked from nerves at least once per week. By 10th grade, I'd stopped puking because migranes had taken the place of nausea but the tears continued. I begged and pleaded school officials for help. I begged to be transferred out of certain classes. I was refused, point-blank, and told that it was my fault for being hyper-sensitive. These events took place a few years before the whole anti-bullying crusade caught fire. If it were going on today, I'd sue the holy shit out of those little fuckers and the school and the school district and wouldn't think twice about it. Back then, I had to take it.
Shall we add a domineering, bullying older brother to the mix? Someone who couldn't shut the hell up if you nailed his lips together? Someone who will do anything (and I mean anything) to win, whether it's an argument or a game of Scrabble? Someone who will threaten bodily harm if he doesn't get his way? Yes, let's.
It's a miracle that:
1. I'm not an alcoholic.
2. I've never touched a drug.
3. I've never self-harmed.
4. I've never snapped since that incident with Chris in 6th grade.
5. I've never run away.
6. I never once thought of creating chaos at my schools.
7. I've never need to be institutionalized.
8. I still respect those in authority.
That's not to say all this shit hasn't made a dent in my head, because it has. My self-esteem is rock bottom, I'm enormous because I eat emotionally (snarfing down super-sized fries isn't illegal; hiding in your tormentors' bushes and assailing them is). I'm not at all happy and I feel paralyzed by fear, guilt and shame. With the Shrink Yourself thing, I'm learning to deal with the aftermath and it's not at all pretty. This brings me to my next point...
A few weeks ago, a long-time friend told me that she was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I look back on our relationship, I can see that she had it as a kid, and the diagnosis explains A LOT about why she acted the way she did. I feel bad for her but I'm also royally pissed off (I've been reading up on this disorder and all the shrinks say that anger is par for the course) at her. For years, I thought that she ignored me, blew me off for others, demonized me, clung to me, ragged on me, mouthed off to me, because I'd done something wrong. I thought that I was a bitch, demanding, horrible, weird, that there was something wrong with me. I have another friend who has had some mental issues and his treatment of me was similar. Again, I thought it was all my fault, when it was really their issues doing the talking. I'm angry that I spent so many years blaming myself and I'm even angrier that now these two people expect me to be patient with them and supportive and loyal, especially since the one with BPD sometimes uses her condition as an excuse to shoot off her mouth and be a snot. Everything I'm reading says that no matter what, you've got to set boundaries with these people. So, that's what I've been doing. Asserting myself. It hasn't always been easy. In fact, at times it's been scary, because I don't like it when people are mad at me or disapprove of me. I've stuck to my guns, though, and I haven't regretted it for a second. We shall see how things develop, Shrink Yourself-wise and friendship-wise, in the coming months.
Now for the Playing the Waiting Game part: Yes, more bullshit about that damn CG and about the car. Luckily, the car goes in on Tuesday. I'm praying that the place I'm taking it to will do the job well and not charge me a heart-stopping amount of money.
As for CG, I know that he's spending the summer working for his Dad in another state. I'm praying that he's not going to make that his permanent residence. I figure I should know in about a month or two (I'm keeping my ears open). I feel like where he's concerned, I've got to strike while the iron is hot, get my foot in the door, etc. I feel like I'm on borrowed time with him and I've got to make a move or he'll leave the area (it's complicated). Yet, I also catch myself kind of hoping he'll stay away so that I'll have no choice but to stop mooning over him and focus on making a fabulous life for myself. One good thing is that my attitude is changing a bit. Up until recently my attitude was that I'd follow him to the ends of the earth. These days, my attitude is, "Well, if he's sweet, I'll let him come with me as I pursue my interests. If he's really sweet, I'll let him actually ride in the car with me, rather than stuff him in the trunk." This is progress.
I think...
I'm about to head into my 6th week of the Shrink Yourself online program. I haven't really lost more than a couple of pounds but I'm not bingeing or overeating, either, and for me, that's huge. Typically, the smallest thing will have me dumping groceries down my neck.
What's going on right now is I'm asserting myself a lot more (which is also huge for me. I've always swallowed everything and blown up at a later date) and a lot of shit is coming up from the past. For instance, at 4:00 yesterday morning I remembered being 7 years old and getting slapped across the face hard in the locker room of the local YMCA. Apparently, an older girl, whose little sister I'd been playing with, accused me of calling her a bitch. At the age of 7, I was not using language like that. I never called her anything, but she said I did and she drilled me in the face, wet-handed. I recall blowing up and trying to hit her back, only to be restrained by 2 of her friends. When I tried to get help from a lifeguard, I was told that there was nothing to be done and that if I'd been slapped, I'd probably done something to bring it on. The only person who stood up for me was the bitch's 3rd friend, who read her the riot act about not smacking little kids. Let me tell you, this memory had me alternating between shame, grief and blind rage. If I were ever to see that bitch again (and I'm sure I won't), I think I'd be hard-pressed not to rip her face off. I'd settle for tearing into her verbally, and making her cry.
I recalled having to sprint home after school in 5th grade to avoid getting my ass kicked. Sometimes I didn't make it. On a couple of occasions I had to hide out in the bathroom of the church that was a couple of blocks from my home.
I recalled joining an after-school intramural basketball program and getting punched in the gut by a little bastard named Bradley, because I made a mistake during a dribble-and-pass drill.
I remembered moving to Minnesota after 5th grade and encountering my next tormentor, Chris, who started in on me, unprovoked. There I sat, doing my Math like a good girl, and he lit in to me. One morning during gym class, a few months later, he began attacking me with a hockey stick, covering me with bruises from knee to waist and blackening my eye with the blade of the stick, leaving a scar that remains to this day. That was when something in my brain snapped and I hauled off and bitch-slapped the little fucker across the face, as hard as I could. Then, I got him in deep shit when I went to the nurse for First Aid. Happily, he never screwed with me again.
I remembered being left out of games at recess from grades 1-4, all the moving we did, having a hard time making friends in the new places, not being allowed to sit with anyone at lunch.
Fast forward to high school. My 5th new school in 6 years. Right from the beginning life was hell on earth. Being stuck between two groups of evil fuckers, intent on wiping me out: A group of 6-8 nasty, horrible girls and a group of 8 wretched, awful boys. The girls ensured my isolation by turning potential friends against me and the boys delighted in telling me what a dirty, foul, disgusting, ill-mannered, fat, ugly, worthless whore I was. I think "Frigid whore" was my favorite epithet. So much scope for imagination. I always wondered how a frigid woman could be a whore and vice versa. Hours of entertainment. The two groups were in addition to random, group-less bastards who roved the hallways, looking for hapless innocents. In 9th I was in tears on almost a daily basis. I puked from nerves at least once per week. By 10th grade, I'd stopped puking because migranes had taken the place of nausea but the tears continued. I begged and pleaded school officials for help. I begged to be transferred out of certain classes. I was refused, point-blank, and told that it was my fault for being hyper-sensitive. These events took place a few years before the whole anti-bullying crusade caught fire. If it were going on today, I'd sue the holy shit out of those little fuckers and the school and the school district and wouldn't think twice about it. Back then, I had to take it.
Shall we add a domineering, bullying older brother to the mix? Someone who couldn't shut the hell up if you nailed his lips together? Someone who will do anything (and I mean anything) to win, whether it's an argument or a game of Scrabble? Someone who will threaten bodily harm if he doesn't get his way? Yes, let's.
It's a miracle that:
1. I'm not an alcoholic.
2. I've never touched a drug.
3. I've never self-harmed.
4. I've never snapped since that incident with Chris in 6th grade.
5. I've never run away.
6. I never once thought of creating chaos at my schools.
7. I've never need to be institutionalized.
8. I still respect those in authority.
That's not to say all this shit hasn't made a dent in my head, because it has. My self-esteem is rock bottom, I'm enormous because I eat emotionally (snarfing down super-sized fries isn't illegal; hiding in your tormentors' bushes and assailing them is). I'm not at all happy and I feel paralyzed by fear, guilt and shame. With the Shrink Yourself thing, I'm learning to deal with the aftermath and it's not at all pretty. This brings me to my next point...
A few weeks ago, a long-time friend told me that she was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I look back on our relationship, I can see that she had it as a kid, and the diagnosis explains A LOT about why she acted the way she did. I feel bad for her but I'm also royally pissed off (I've been reading up on this disorder and all the shrinks say that anger is par for the course) at her. For years, I thought that she ignored me, blew me off for others, demonized me, clung to me, ragged on me, mouthed off to me, because I'd done something wrong. I thought that I was a bitch, demanding, horrible, weird, that there was something wrong with me. I have another friend who has had some mental issues and his treatment of me was similar. Again, I thought it was all my fault, when it was really their issues doing the talking. I'm angry that I spent so many years blaming myself and I'm even angrier that now these two people expect me to be patient with them and supportive and loyal, especially since the one with BPD sometimes uses her condition as an excuse to shoot off her mouth and be a snot. Everything I'm reading says that no matter what, you've got to set boundaries with these people. So, that's what I've been doing. Asserting myself. It hasn't always been easy. In fact, at times it's been scary, because I don't like it when people are mad at me or disapprove of me. I've stuck to my guns, though, and I haven't regretted it for a second. We shall see how things develop, Shrink Yourself-wise and friendship-wise, in the coming months.
Now for the Playing the Waiting Game part: Yes, more bullshit about that damn CG and about the car. Luckily, the car goes in on Tuesday. I'm praying that the place I'm taking it to will do the job well and not charge me a heart-stopping amount of money.
As for CG, I know that he's spending the summer working for his Dad in another state. I'm praying that he's not going to make that his permanent residence. I figure I should know in about a month or two (I'm keeping my ears open). I feel like where he's concerned, I've got to strike while the iron is hot, get my foot in the door, etc. I feel like I'm on borrowed time with him and I've got to make a move or he'll leave the area (it's complicated). Yet, I also catch myself kind of hoping he'll stay away so that I'll have no choice but to stop mooning over him and focus on making a fabulous life for myself. One good thing is that my attitude is changing a bit. Up until recently my attitude was that I'd follow him to the ends of the earth. These days, my attitude is, "Well, if he's sweet, I'll let him come with me as I pursue my interests. If he's really sweet, I'll let him actually ride in the car with me, rather than stuff him in the trunk." This is progress.
I think...
Monday, August 8, 2011
More Stuff I Love
- The night sky in Fall/Winter. It's so brilliant and beautiful and much nicer than summer.
- Seeing Orion reflected in Lake Winnebago.
- Watching the full moon come up over Lake W. while eating a Snickers Blizzard.
- The smell of books, particularly old ones.
- Getting published online for the first time.
- Buying a new diary.
- Office supply stores.
- Lingerie shopping - come on, who doesn't like a pretty new bra or pajamas?
- Art exhibits.
- Ripe watermelon.
- A big, green, leafy salad with homemade vinaigrette.
- Deep-fried dandelion heads. Mmmm-mmmm!
- A glass of Lambrusco (very sweet and just ever-so-slightly fizzy. I love the color, too. I want a dress or lipstick that color).
- Laughing so hard your gut aches all night.
- Sopping up curry or masala sauce with fresh, hot naan and washing it all down with a Mango Lassi. Even better than dandelion heads.
- Wrapping presents.
- The Nissan Altima (that's one hell of a fun car to drive).
- Icy-cold Lemonade.
- A big bouquet of blue iris, daffodils and white carnations or roses (especially during the winter).
- Crickets chirping.
- Maru the Cat (I want to hug him and hug him and hug him).
- Ella Fitzgerald ringtones.
- Seeing Orion reflected in Lake Winnebago.
- Watching the full moon come up over Lake W. while eating a Snickers Blizzard.
- The smell of books, particularly old ones.
- Getting published online for the first time.
- Buying a new diary.
- Office supply stores.
- Lingerie shopping - come on, who doesn't like a pretty new bra or pajamas?
- Art exhibits.
- Ripe watermelon.
- A big, green, leafy salad with homemade vinaigrette.
- Deep-fried dandelion heads. Mmmm-mmmm!
- A glass of Lambrusco (very sweet and just ever-so-slightly fizzy. I love the color, too. I want a dress or lipstick that color).
- Laughing so hard your gut aches all night.
- Sopping up curry or masala sauce with fresh, hot naan and washing it all down with a Mango Lassi. Even better than dandelion heads.
- Wrapping presents.
- The Nissan Altima (that's one hell of a fun car to drive).
- Icy-cold Lemonade.
- A big bouquet of blue iris, daffodils and white carnations or roses (especially during the winter).
- Crickets chirping.
- Maru the Cat (I want to hug him and hug him and hug him).
- Ella Fitzgerald ringtones.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Progress?
Just one more day of heat to endure before it cools off. Thank goodness. It's been a miserable 6 weeks around here and has really screwed with all my grand plans.
Another bonus? For the longest time I have wanted to join the Shrink Yourself online program. It was started by a therapist named Roger Gould, who has done a great deal with people who eat emotionally. A few years back he wrote a book with the same name, which I bought, but I'd never gotten around to doing the online thing. This morning I joined up. It's a 12-week program and people have raved about how good it is. I'm hoping to shed some slop and poundage and maybe learn to deal with my fears a bit better. One amazing thing I learned this morning is this: When you're trying to lose weight, overdoing it on treats is not a simple indulgence. It's nothing more than throwing an obstacle in your own way. Simple, I know, but I'm kind of embarrassed to say that I'd never thought of it that way before. Here, I thought I was simply indulging. I think this little piece of information is going to have a big impact on my attitude towards food/eating.
What else? I got an opportunity to do a guest post on an amazing blog called Met Another Frog. This blog deals with relationships, dating, nookie and the like. I was a little anxious because this month's theme is non-vanilla sex and I am not a femme fatale. I managed to write something that was quite well-received and I had fun doing it. It was a fantastic opportunity and made me realize all over again, just how much I enjoy writing. It makes me want to write novel after novel (and hopefully end up with a JK Rowling-esque checking account). I've already got some pretty good ideas festering in my noodle. If you want to check out my guest post, go to metanotherfrog.com and take a gander at the article from August 2nd. It's mine.
Yesterday morning, I got online to Ticketmaster in Milwaukee and ordered myself a ticket to see the writer/actor/humorist Garrison Keillor at the Fox Cities P.A.C. on September 20th. Those of you who aren't familiar with this guy need to go to prairiehome.publicradio.org and click on Archives and look for the box that says The News From Lake Wobegon. Subscribe to the free podcasts. You won't be sorry. Garrison Keillor talks about his fictional hometown of Lake Wobegon, Minnesota. The monologues are wonderful. Some are touching, some a little sad, but most are riotously funny, and Keillor has the most soothing speaking voice. Whenever I was really sick as a kid, I'd put on his tapes and they'd lull me to sleep. As a grown-up (that's debatable), whenever I feel crappy physically or sick-at-heart or scared, I still put on his CDs and fall asleep to them. They never fail to comfort me. Keillor has also written quite a number of books. If reading is more your speed, hie thee to the local library and check out such novels as Lake Wobegon Days, Wobegon Boy, Pontoon: A Novel of Lake Wobegon(my favorite), Life Among the Lutherans, Lake Wobegon Summer 1956, and a plethora of others. You won't regret that, either. Having lived in a tiny farm community in rural Minnesota for 3 years, this stuff is right up my alley.
Since the car is still in disrepair my next plan is to hop the city bus and learn the various routes. I'm tired of never going anywhere. The first cool day we have, I'm hopping the bus to Oshkosh and going to the Paine Art Center to check out the current exhibition and drink in the majesty of the gardens.
I swear, I get out and do more things in Fall and Winter than I do in the summer. -50F? No problem! 85F? Big problem. I would make a terrible bear. I'd be the only one hibernating from June-September.
So, hopefully my schemes will be back on track soon. I'm really stoked about this whole Shrink Yourself program. If I can get my emotional eating under control I think I'll be sitting pretty (in smaller jeans) before long.
Another bonus? For the longest time I have wanted to join the Shrink Yourself online program. It was started by a therapist named Roger Gould, who has done a great deal with people who eat emotionally. A few years back he wrote a book with the same name, which I bought, but I'd never gotten around to doing the online thing. This morning I joined up. It's a 12-week program and people have raved about how good it is. I'm hoping to shed some slop and poundage and maybe learn to deal with my fears a bit better. One amazing thing I learned this morning is this: When you're trying to lose weight, overdoing it on treats is not a simple indulgence. It's nothing more than throwing an obstacle in your own way. Simple, I know, but I'm kind of embarrassed to say that I'd never thought of it that way before. Here, I thought I was simply indulging. I think this little piece of information is going to have a big impact on my attitude towards food/eating.
What else? I got an opportunity to do a guest post on an amazing blog called Met Another Frog. This blog deals with relationships, dating, nookie and the like. I was a little anxious because this month's theme is non-vanilla sex and I am not a femme fatale. I managed to write something that was quite well-received and I had fun doing it. It was a fantastic opportunity and made me realize all over again, just how much I enjoy writing. It makes me want to write novel after novel (and hopefully end up with a JK Rowling-esque checking account). I've already got some pretty good ideas festering in my noodle. If you want to check out my guest post, go to metanotherfrog.com and take a gander at the article from August 2nd. It's mine.
Yesterday morning, I got online to Ticketmaster in Milwaukee and ordered myself a ticket to see the writer/actor/humorist Garrison Keillor at the Fox Cities P.A.C. on September 20th. Those of you who aren't familiar with this guy need to go to prairiehome.publicradio.org and click on Archives and look for the box that says The News From Lake Wobegon. Subscribe to the free podcasts. You won't be sorry. Garrison Keillor talks about his fictional hometown of Lake Wobegon, Minnesota. The monologues are wonderful. Some are touching, some a little sad, but most are riotously funny, and Keillor has the most soothing speaking voice. Whenever I was really sick as a kid, I'd put on his tapes and they'd lull me to sleep. As a grown-up (that's debatable), whenever I feel crappy physically or sick-at-heart or scared, I still put on his CDs and fall asleep to them. They never fail to comfort me. Keillor has also written quite a number of books. If reading is more your speed, hie thee to the local library and check out such novels as Lake Wobegon Days, Wobegon Boy, Pontoon: A Novel of Lake Wobegon(my favorite), Life Among the Lutherans, Lake Wobegon Summer 1956, and a plethora of others. You won't regret that, either. Having lived in a tiny farm community in rural Minnesota for 3 years, this stuff is right up my alley.
Since the car is still in disrepair my next plan is to hop the city bus and learn the various routes. I'm tired of never going anywhere. The first cool day we have, I'm hopping the bus to Oshkosh and going to the Paine Art Center to check out the current exhibition and drink in the majesty of the gardens.
I swear, I get out and do more things in Fall and Winter than I do in the summer. -50F? No problem! 85F? Big problem. I would make a terrible bear. I'd be the only one hibernating from June-September.
So, hopefully my schemes will be back on track soon. I'm really stoked about this whole Shrink Yourself program. If I can get my emotional eating under control I think I'll be sitting pretty (in smaller jeans) before long.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Cruisin' For a Bruisin'?
I have to say that I am non-plussed. But, it's a pretty safe bet that the people who claim that YOU are crazy, are actually pretty damn nutty themselves. And probably not in a good way.
My aunt died on July 23. It was and wasn't surprising. She'd had some pretty big heart issues for at least 25 years and then about a month ago she had a stroke. Not a big one but with strokes, you don't need to have a big one in order for things to go ass-over-teakettle.
I did not attend the funeral. Before you have me tarred and feathered as a cold bitch, let me say that the side of the family on which this death occurred, is not easy to deal with, but I'm not going to go into the whys and wherefores tonight. Suffice it to say, I prefer to give them a very wide berth. I do, however, have to see a couple of these relatives (an aunt and her daughter, my cousin "Violet") on a fairly regular basis and this is where the trouble starts.
"Violet" is anything but shrinking. She says what she wants, when she wants and to whom she wants. I think an angry, pitchfork-wielding mob would've gone after her long ago, with torches blazing, if it weren't for the fact that, deep down, I think Vi does mean well. It's just that damn big mouth of hers! If she'd nail it shut once in a while, mind her own damn business and get it through her head that her you-know-what does smell, she'd be o.k., and I wouldn't want to lobotomize her.
For some time Vi has been operating under the misapprehension that I am manic-depressive. I have no clue where she got this idea. Well, maybe I do a little. Her ex-husband struggles with Bi-Polar Disorder. He did not feel as though he needed treatment and it messed up their marriage. After the divorce and subsequent custody battle bullshit, she and their daughter went in for a spot of counseling, which is good. Things were somewhat acrimonious, particularly after the ex remarried, and it was good that Vi and her daughter got some things off their chests.
However, Vi seems to think that a few sessions on the couch means that she's a reincarnation of Freud and fit to analyze/diagnose the entire world, particularly me. She took it upon herself to hunt up shrinks and mental health resource information and has been after my mother to pass the info on to me. Mom, bless her heart, has refused point-blank on a number of occasions. I've known for a while that Vi has been questioning my mental hygiene (which is just fine, thank you very much) and for the most part, it amused me. But at Aunt B's funeral, it seems Vi really ran her mouth about me. She cornered my mother again, she accosted my brother and, since she was helping the other cousins with their mother's funeral, she brought it up to them.
A good friend of the family is a counselor. He has his Ph.D and has helped tons of people. In his hometown back east, he was the person other shrinks would call to talk people out of suicide. About 4 years ago, I was going through an unpleasant situation and was somewhat anxious about it and my ability to handle things properly. I talked to him a couple of times and we resolved the situation. Things have been good since then. It was as simple as that. Mom happened to tell D at Christmastime about Vi's opinions and D was angry. His words, verbatim, were "THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL LILY IS MANIC-DEPRESSIVE!" I just wish he could convince Vi.
I'm torn. In one way, I do appreciate her concern, erroneous though it is. It's nice to know that someone on that side of the family does give a damn. But I do not appreciate her presumption nor do I care for her big mouth and the way she sticks her nose in where it does not belong. I'm not sure if I should say something to her, ask her to cease and desist, or if I should just let it pass. I know I'm just fine. My family and friends and acquaintances know that I'm fine. Do I tell her to knock it off or just go about my business and let her be the one with pie on her face?
Honestly, I'm amazed that nobody else has torn her a new one yet. She's overstepped her bounds a number of times over the years and I've been the one to tell her off. The only other person who ever lambasted her was a former co-worker. I don't understand her. She does a lot for many people but at the same time, she's so freakin' difficult. She badmouths and gossips about the people she helps. She's not exactly grateful to the people who help her. The dichotomy between Angel of Mercy and Snotty Bitch really messes with my head. My brother claims she has an attitude of noblesse oblige.
Whether it's noblesse oblige or just a crappy attitude, I think a wider berth may be needed.
My aunt died on July 23. It was and wasn't surprising. She'd had some pretty big heart issues for at least 25 years and then about a month ago she had a stroke. Not a big one but with strokes, you don't need to have a big one in order for things to go ass-over-teakettle.
I did not attend the funeral. Before you have me tarred and feathered as a cold bitch, let me say that the side of the family on which this death occurred, is not easy to deal with, but I'm not going to go into the whys and wherefores tonight. Suffice it to say, I prefer to give them a very wide berth. I do, however, have to see a couple of these relatives (an aunt and her daughter, my cousin "Violet") on a fairly regular basis and this is where the trouble starts.
"Violet" is anything but shrinking. She says what she wants, when she wants and to whom she wants. I think an angry, pitchfork-wielding mob would've gone after her long ago, with torches blazing, if it weren't for the fact that, deep down, I think Vi does mean well. It's just that damn big mouth of hers! If she'd nail it shut once in a while, mind her own damn business and get it through her head that her you-know-what does smell, she'd be o.k., and I wouldn't want to lobotomize her.
For some time Vi has been operating under the misapprehension that I am manic-depressive. I have no clue where she got this idea. Well, maybe I do a little. Her ex-husband struggles with Bi-Polar Disorder. He did not feel as though he needed treatment and it messed up their marriage. After the divorce and subsequent custody battle bullshit, she and their daughter went in for a spot of counseling, which is good. Things were somewhat acrimonious, particularly after the ex remarried, and it was good that Vi and her daughter got some things off their chests.
However, Vi seems to think that a few sessions on the couch means that she's a reincarnation of Freud and fit to analyze/diagnose the entire world, particularly me. She took it upon herself to hunt up shrinks and mental health resource information and has been after my mother to pass the info on to me. Mom, bless her heart, has refused point-blank on a number of occasions. I've known for a while that Vi has been questioning my mental hygiene (which is just fine, thank you very much) and for the most part, it amused me. But at Aunt B's funeral, it seems Vi really ran her mouth about me. She cornered my mother again, she accosted my brother and, since she was helping the other cousins with their mother's funeral, she brought it up to them.
A good friend of the family is a counselor. He has his Ph.D and has helped tons of people. In his hometown back east, he was the person other shrinks would call to talk people out of suicide. About 4 years ago, I was going through an unpleasant situation and was somewhat anxious about it and my ability to handle things properly. I talked to him a couple of times and we resolved the situation. Things have been good since then. It was as simple as that. Mom happened to tell D at Christmastime about Vi's opinions and D was angry. His words, verbatim, were "THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL LILY IS MANIC-DEPRESSIVE!" I just wish he could convince Vi.
I'm torn. In one way, I do appreciate her concern, erroneous though it is. It's nice to know that someone on that side of the family does give a damn. But I do not appreciate her presumption nor do I care for her big mouth and the way she sticks her nose in where it does not belong. I'm not sure if I should say something to her, ask her to cease and desist, or if I should just let it pass. I know I'm just fine. My family and friends and acquaintances know that I'm fine. Do I tell her to knock it off or just go about my business and let her be the one with pie on her face?
Honestly, I'm amazed that nobody else has torn her a new one yet. She's overstepped her bounds a number of times over the years and I've been the one to tell her off. The only other person who ever lambasted her was a former co-worker. I don't understand her. She does a lot for many people but at the same time, she's so freakin' difficult. She badmouths and gossips about the people she helps. She's not exactly grateful to the people who help her. The dichotomy between Angel of Mercy and Snotty Bitch really messes with my head. My brother claims she has an attitude of noblesse oblige.
Whether it's noblesse oblige or just a crappy attitude, I think a wider berth may be needed.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Master Plan?
The last thing I want to do is be pessimistic, but I cannot help wondering if there's any point to making plans. I had some damn fine plans for this summer. I wasn't going to sit around on my duff, pining and whining over CG like I did last year. I was going to go to local museums, some art shows, a couple of botanical gardens, the Manawa Rodeo, picnics, concerts, my friend's farm (which is an hour from the Twin Cities), etc., and I haven't been able to do one darn thing, either because of car troubles or hellish heat. It's already August 2nd and I'm going stir-crazy. A couple of days ago I realized that I get out more in the winter than I do in summer. Unless it cools off pretty soon, I'm probably going to be hibernating in a dim, air-conditioned room for at least another month. The one thing I'm looking forward to is the Garrison Keillor (of A Prairie Home Companion, Lake Wobegon fame) show at the Fox Cities P.A.C. on Sept. 20th. Tickets go on sale Friday morning at 10 a.m. I'm so hoping I'll be able to score a seat. He said in a recent interview that, due to a stroke, he's going to be retiring in a year or two so this is probably going to be my only chance to see him live.
What does everyone think? Is there any real point to making plans? I've gotten to where I'm reluctant to make any and afraid to look forward to anything because of disappointment or fear of something bad happening. I realize that by doing this I'm borrowing trouble. And isn't it Matthew who says not to worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself?
By the way, it's just after 1:00 a.m. here and it's still 80F. I sat outside a few hours ago chatting on the phone with an out-of-town friend and I could've sworn I was in a sauna. Got eaten alive by mosquitos, too. Fall cannot come fast enough...
Nota Bene: Happy Birthday to my big brother! Have a great day!!!
Friday, July 29, 2011
Weird Week
No, the heat wave didn't melt me into a puddle of goo. It's still yucky out, but then, it's summer in Wisconsin. It's gonna be yucky for a while yet. I'm still here. Haven't updated in a couple of weeks, I know. It's been a somewhat stressful week. My Aunt Betty died last Saturday so we were dealing with the subsequent wake and funeral. Tried to rent a car for a couple of days, as mine cannot be trusted much out of town. Unfortunately, the EAA Airventure show is going on this week and just about every single rental place was sold out. Only one place wasn't but their prices were so inflated because of the air show that I was gobsmacked. A matchbox-sized compact car was going for $100/day. Fortunately, my brother was going to the funeral also so he did all the driving and I saved a shitload of cash, bless his heart. Then, my tendency to store things up for a long time/not talk about them and then blow a gasket made me flip my lid on Tuesday evening. Anxiety sucks. Fortunately, the people around me were more than forebearing and they let me get a ton off my chest. I think I might have a talk soon with a family friend who is a counselor. See what he says I could do to lessen anxiety and cope a bit better. And CG's ex has popped back into the picture, sort of. I don't think they're dating again but I think they're still friends. I know this is way beyond my control, and frankly, none of my damn business but I can't help wishing she'd go away and stay away. She reminds me of a cross between Pamela Anderson and Angelina Jolie ON A BAD DAY(but without the ridiculous breast implants and collagen lips). She needs to piss off. Hopefully she'll find herself a lovely new man and leave MY cute little monsieur alone.
Does anyone do facial massage on themselves? I've been looking at YouTube videos about facial massage and I am intrigued. One lady who demonstrates her techniques is a 40-something woman from either Singapore and when I found out she was in her mid-40s I couldn't believe it. She looks no more than 21. Her skin is pristine: no lines, wrinkles, crevasses, craters, broken capillaries or uneven tone. It's impeccable. I'm becoming more and more interested in preventive maintenance these days. Anyway, these massage videos have become almost like pornography for me. I watch them obsessively but instead of becoming amorous, like one does with porn, I get so relaxed I practically fall asleep.
My other YouTube addiction: Maru the Cat. Have you guys seen him? He's got to be the smartest, cutest, sassiest baby out there, and so fat I want to hug him to pieces. My current idea of the perfect day: Get a relaxing, 90-min., anti-aging facial/head and neck massage, then take a nice nap on the couch with Maru.
Does anyone do facial massage on themselves? I've been looking at YouTube videos about facial massage and I am intrigued. One lady who demonstrates her techniques is a 40-something woman from either Singapore and when I found out she was in her mid-40s I couldn't believe it. She looks no more than 21. Her skin is pristine: no lines, wrinkles, crevasses, craters, broken capillaries or uneven tone. It's impeccable. I'm becoming more and more interested in preventive maintenance these days. Anyway, these massage videos have become almost like pornography for me. I watch them obsessively but instead of becoming amorous, like one does with porn, I get so relaxed I practically fall asleep.
My other YouTube addiction: Maru the Cat. Have you guys seen him? He's got to be the smartest, cutest, sassiest baby out there, and so fat I want to hug him to pieces. My current idea of the perfect day: Get a relaxing, 90-min., anti-aging facial/head and neck massage, then take a nice nap on the couch with Maru.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Heat Wave, Day 5, Part II...
It is now 88F and the heat index is 108F. Today is not the day to forget coleslaw or potato salad in the backseat of your car. I hope there aren't any people out there who think it'll be o.k. to leave their kid(s) in the car for "just five minutes" today...
It's supposed to cool down and be livable by Saturday. I can hardly wait.
Quick experiment: Can listening to Christmas carols make a girl feel better on a day like this? We shall see...
It's supposed to cool down and be livable by Saturday. I can hardly wait.
Quick experiment: Can listening to Christmas carols make a girl feel better on a day like this? We shall see...
Heat Wave, Day 5...
PLEASEOHPLEASEOHPLEASEOHPLEASEOHPLEASEDEARGODMAKEITSTOPIT'SSOHOTOUTEVERYMINUTEFEELSLIKEANHOURANDNOAMOUNTOFANTIPERSPIRANTINTHEWORLDISGOINGTOKNOCKOUTTHESWEATIT'SSOHOTICAN'TSTANDANOTHERMINUTEPLEASEDEARGODMAKEITSNOWIPROMISEI'LLNEVERCOMPLAINABOUTTHEBADROADSEVERAGAIN!!!!!
Today's forecast: "Very hot and extremely humid. Partly cloudy until late afternoon then clearing. Breezy. Highs 94 to 99. Southwest wind 10 to 15 mph increasing to 15 to 25 mph in the afternoon. Heat index readings 108 to 113."
I'm sorry, but that is obscene. No place in the world should ever be that hot. Ever.
Haven't felt real great for the past few days. Rather nauseated. And I'm in a/c almost all the time AND guzzling cold water. I think God meant me to live in Alaska, not the Midwest. I haven't even cracked a single book. Brain's too damn fried. Tried giving myself a pedicure a couple of days ago and despite the a/c the polish clumped right up. My toes look disgusting. Can you imagine what would happen to mascara if I was crazy enough to put it on? I miss makeup so bad, too! I look like a pasty pile of crap with a super-shiny forehead. The first cool day we have, I'm going to pile on the eye makeup and really slut it up. I know it'll stay put. Thank goodness July's almost over.
It's sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo hot!
Today's forecast: "Very hot and extremely humid. Partly cloudy until late afternoon then clearing. Breezy. Highs 94 to 99. Southwest wind 10 to 15 mph increasing to 15 to 25 mph in the afternoon. Heat index readings 108 to 113."
I'm sorry, but that is obscene. No place in the world should ever be that hot. Ever.
Haven't felt real great for the past few days. Rather nauseated. And I'm in a/c almost all the time AND guzzling cold water. I think God meant me to live in Alaska, not the Midwest. I haven't even cracked a single book. Brain's too damn fried. Tried giving myself a pedicure a couple of days ago and despite the a/c the polish clumped right up. My toes look disgusting. Can you imagine what would happen to mascara if I was crazy enough to put it on? I miss makeup so bad, too! I look like a pasty pile of crap with a super-shiny forehead. The first cool day we have, I'm going to pile on the eye makeup and really slut it up. I know it'll stay put. Thank goodness July's almost over.
It's sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo hot!
Monday, July 18, 2011
Heat Wave, Day 3...
On the morning news, they're telling us all to stay indoors where it's cool and urging us not to venture outside. It's already over 80F and we have some nasty storms moving in so I'll have to shut off the computer and unplug it before I go about my day. We had a lovely thunderstorm late last night. The temperature dropped about 25 degrees in 5 minutes and it was glorious outside while the storm lasted. The minute it stopped raining it got hot again.
I cannot wait until the snow flies...
I cannot wait until the snow flies...
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Hotter Than Hell...
Here in the Midwest, we are in the early days of the typical summer scourge: the dreaded heat wave. Today is Day 2 and its forecast to be 90-94F with heat indices around 105F. Those of you in cool, lovely places like the Pacific Northwest(along the coast), Alaska and England/Ireland/Scandinavia/Siberia are lucky souls, indeed. I'm sure Texans and other Southerners are laughing themselves silly at us right now. My brother and his family just returned from a 2-week vacation in Texas/Arkansas/Missouri. In Dallas, 105F is nothing. One night, J called from Springfield, Mo., complaining that he was freezing to death. The temperature: 85F. He said my sister-in-law was wearing a sweatshirt. I cannot wait til Autumn arrives and it gets chilly. They are going to be miserable. Come winter, they'll be catatonic. I'll feel wonderful, however.
It's been a disappointing summer. I had planned on doing so much: going to museums and art shows, a rodeo, concerts in the park, the big 4th of July city-wide celebration, botanical gardens, etc. With the exception of my niece's 8th grade graduation and subsequent trip to Cedarburg, I've done bupkis. It's been way too hot and the mosquitos are the size of ping pong balls. I haven't even been able to get out to a Baseball game. The only thing I've been able to do successfully is lie quietly in front of a fan and read. I'm really champing at the bit to get out. My hope is that, like last year, it'll get chilly in early September and stay that way til winter. There's a fabulous Jazz festival Labor Day weekend that I want to go to, Octoberfest (in late Sept.), a big classic car show and other activities.
Oddly enough, my organizational skills are always better in the face of doom. I've got the laundry and grocery shopping done and most of this week's menu planned and prepped so that I won't have to turn on the oven. I just made a pasta salad consisting of rotini, diced chicken breast, seedless grapes and poppy seed dressing. It's wonderful stuff, really. I also have a stack of books from my BBC list to go through, and as it's probably going to be hellish for the next 10 days I should have no problem finishing them (The Three Musketeers , Wuthering Heights, Atonement, and One Hundred Years of Solitude).
It's been a disappointing summer. I had planned on doing so much: going to museums and art shows, a rodeo, concerts in the park, the big 4th of July city-wide celebration, botanical gardens, etc. With the exception of my niece's 8th grade graduation and subsequent trip to Cedarburg, I've done bupkis. It's been way too hot and the mosquitos are the size of ping pong balls. I haven't even been able to get out to a Baseball game. The only thing I've been able to do successfully is lie quietly in front of a fan and read. I'm really champing at the bit to get out. My hope is that, like last year, it'll get chilly in early September and stay that way til winter. There's a fabulous Jazz festival Labor Day weekend that I want to go to, Octoberfest (in late Sept.), a big classic car show and other activities.
Oddly enough, my organizational skills are always better in the face of doom. I've got the laundry and grocery shopping done and most of this week's menu planned and prepped so that I won't have to turn on the oven. I just made a pasta salad consisting of rotini, diced chicken breast, seedless grapes and poppy seed dressing. It's wonderful stuff, really. I also have a stack of books from my BBC list to go through, and as it's probably going to be hellish for the next 10 days I should have no problem finishing them (The Three Musketeers , Wuthering Heights, Atonement, and One Hundred Years of Solitude).
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