Nota Bene...

About a month ago, I decided that I had to learn how to control myself, portion-wise, when confronted with Chinese food.  I achieved control.  Then, pizza became my Achilles' Heel.  Weak spot, no more.  I have achieved control when faced with pizza.  I just had Pizza Hut for lunch.  Meat Lover's. With a cheese-stuffed crust.  I did not overeat.  I opted for a couple of smaller slices.  I did my best to slow down and chew rather than inhale.  I am very satisfied but not so full that I couldn't go for a brisk walk.  


The little victories are piling up...

Waste Not, Want Not...

I love, love, LOVE the hair donation program, Locks of Love.  If you have at least 10 inches of hair, you can donate it to this program and your hair will go to make wigs for sick kids.  I needed a haircut but I decided that it'd be a sin to let my mop end up in the salon's trash can, so I donated it. 


Go for it, my darlings.  If you need a cut and your hair is at least 10 inches and unbleached (permed or colored is o.k., though), consider donating to Locks of Love.  It's bad enough that little kids get sick.  They shouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of hair loss as well.

Speaking of not wasting, I did a little more spelunking in my closet this morning.  I found 3 more pairs of pants that will do me for the next couple of months.  I tried things on and everything either fits perfectly or almost perfectly.  Thank goodness.


You know what's odd?  I noticed a long time ago that black pants/jeans/skirts seem to be cut a mite smaller than pants/jeans/skirts in other colors.  I have a navy wool skirt that fits me perfectly right now.  It's almost identical counterpart, in black, is about 1/2 inch smaller in the waist.  Ditto the navy and black chinos I unearthed this morning.  The navy pair fits perfectly and the black pair cuts off my circulation.  I wonder why in blue blazes designers do this?


Something else that has me scratching my pate is why designers make extremely low-rise jeans and trousers in plus sizes.  I firmly believe that everyone deserves to be fashionable and look nice but low-rise garments hit curvaceous ladies right across the biggest parts of their bodies: the lower abdomen and hips.  It's doubly worse if the lady in question (like me) has an hourglass-shaped figure.  Her hips are going to be a little bigger, her waist a bit smaller.  Low-rise anything puts the lady at risk for major muffin top action.  Also, where is a big ass supposed to go without making the waist tight?  Come on, Yves Saint Bubba, don't make us contend with plumber's crack on top of everything else!  If one is above a size 12, shopping and dressing is traumatic enough.  One does not need any additional indignities.  More and more I'm convinced that designers of plus-size clothing are either clueless, lazy/indifferent, hostile to anyone who isn't a toothpick, or high on glue.  This shit needs to stop.


On Monday, I'll have been at this for 4 weeks.  I'm hoping to be in those pants pictured in my last post.  I tried 'em on a couple of hours ago and they're fitting better.


This is encouraging...

So Happy I Don't Know Which End Is Up...

Remember these AWFUL jeans?  Well, I'm in them, thanks to 2 weeks of T-Tapp and walking.  After 12 workouts (Basic Workout, then Basic Tempo and walking), I no longer had to shoehorn my ass into them.  They slip on perfectly.  In fact, they're a bit too big in the thigh.


Other little victories?  I can now tie my hoodie around my waist and it stays tied.  My inner thighs are looking MUCH better.  My back fat is disappearing.  My mood is much better, too.  That's the best part.


So, I'm in my goal jeans.  My next goal: These awful pants.  I bought them 5 years ago for my aunt's funeral.  I was in a rush so I grabbed my size off the rack and bought them without trying them on.  Got home, tried to stuff my ass in and could not do so.  They were cut a size small.  Had to buy yet another pair because I lost the receipt and couldn't exchange the tight pants.    They languished at the back of my closet until Saturday morning when I was going through my clothes and tossing the stretched-out and the shrunken.  Though they are a size smaller than marked, I can get into them.  Granted, they're tight.  I have to suck my gut in a bit so I can get them buttoned and when they're on, I have one hell of a camel toe (I detest a crotch waffle!), but I can get them on.  My ass fits nicely and they're baggy in the thigh.  Only the waist is tight.  But, I'm working on that.  I'm continuing with Basic Tempo (and doing my best to maintain proper form), plus East-West Breathing and Organs in Place/Half Frogs (more T-Tapp moves) and my walking.  As God is my witness, I am going to be in these damn pants VERY soon.  These pants are going to be my bitch!

I weighed in this morning.  I'm down 3 lbs. from last Tuesday, so that's pretty good.  I wish I'd weighed and measured myself when I began all this on Apr. 2, but I couldn't bear to go near the scale or tape measure.


I'm pretty thrilled with myself...

Blogging Attempt, Take 2

My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, for being away so long.  It's been kind of a crappy few months and I could barely tie my own shoes, let alone blog.  Fortunately, it's (sort of) spring here in Wisconsin.  Despite the chill and high wind, things are green, some trees are leafing out and the daffodils are up.  That's a good start.


One month ago today, I was traipsing the streets of my spiritual home.  That's right, I was in St. Paul, MN.  My dear, dear, lovely friends, Mark and Rae, have a little farm about an hour from the Twin Cities and I was fortunate enough to be invited to spend 5 fun days with them.  One of their daughters has gymnastics practice in St. Paul every Saturday, so that day a bunch of us piled in the car and drove there.  Mark's mom and the kid went to gymnastics, while the other daughter and I roamed Highland Park and sort of got lost in the vicinity of the Excel Energy Center (home to my darling Minnesota Wild).  I say sort of lost because I had my trusty GPS with me.  My motto that day became, "Never be afraid to explore a new place because there's no such thing as lost when you have GPS".  I must say, GPS or no, we should never be afraid to explore.  But, I digress.  Anyhoo, I discovered Starbucks' rival, Caribou Coffee.  The closest Caribou to me is somewhere in Milwaukee, and I think that's a damn shame, because one of my oldest friends got me hooked on Caribou's Blended Mint Conditions with dark chocolate.  It's a chocolate-mint version of a Starbucks' frappuccino, but it's SO DAMN GOOD!  Let me tell you, I was a happy camper sucking on this drink whilst motoring through beautiful St. Paul.  I really think I'd be happy there.  It's got a great vibe.  It's busy but not crazy.


I love going to Mark and Rae's.  Whenever I visit I always end up doing or learning or eating something new.  This time was no different.  Mark got me hooked on pickled whitefish and homemade muesli.  He also took me to my first Bible study.  I'd never been to one before and I must say, it was endlessly fascinating.  I'm now looking into joining a weekly study here in town.


Another wonderful thing I got to do is go with Mark and volunteer.  He takes care of ordering food for a backpack program for low-income kids in 2 or 3 counties.  Each weekend, every kid in the program gets to take home a pack full of several days' worth of food.  That Tuesday, Mark did the ordering for this month, and I got to help him.  It was the saddest but most rewarding thing I've ever done.  It was devastating to actually see how much need there is in that area but satisfying to know that we did the best we could do with basically no damn budget whatsoever.  And those kids are lucky, because Mark is a chef.  He understands nutrition and meal planning, so they get fruits and veggies at every meal, and he works his ass off to ensure they have plenty of nutritious, filling food.  I'm hoping to return to Mark and Rae's later next month and stay for a couple of weeks.  Summer is a busy time around their farm and I want to help out.  Not only that, but I want to volunteer with Mark some more.


Later that afternoon, we all piled into the van and went to the Mall of America for the Phillips Craig and Dean concert.  Now, I am not into Christian Contemporary music at all, but they did one song that had me terribly faklempt: Tell Your Heart To Beat Again.  For the past few months, I've been trying to get my own heart beating again.  I'm trying to zap the ghosts from the past, plus C.G. is gone and I'm working to get over him.  My trip to Mark and Rae's/the Twin Cities was a nice break but it was also a clear wake-up call.  The past is past and I've got to get over it.  C.G. is not going to happen and I've got to get over it.  I've got to get busy and try to make some damn dreams come true.


Since returning home, I've gotten busier.  I've resumed T-Tapp and walking.  I've got a long way to go, but I'm seeing results already.  What I'm looking into right now is the Daniel Fast.  Basically, you go vegan for 21 days.  I'm not sure if I can go that long without poultry or a little beef or a few eggs.  I'm a girl who really needs her protein.  However, I've heard that the Daniel Fast can really jump start weight loss efforts, straighten out blood sugar, reduce/eliminate the homicidal rage and crushing depression that accompany PMS, help blood pressure and cholesterol, and so on.  I'm intrigued.  If I go on it, I'll definitely report my observations and results.

Let He Who Is Without Sin...

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...

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.

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.