People say that words have power and I guess it's true. The first bad word I ever said was in 6th grade when I called Austin Harris an asshole. He just laughed at me because clearly I was fairly un-badass, but I remember feeling liberated. That was the same year I flipped someone off for the first time (sorry, Sean Bradford but you were kind of mean and I kind of had a crush on you). I felt powerful just through one word and one gesture I didn't even understand.
I've spent the last week writing some Very Important Words: my personal statement for my application to the University of Washington. And about an hour ago, I submitted my application. Choosing the words for my statement was very difficult; my previous grades were. . . not so good. My words are my only chance of being accepted to the university. So it took forever, clearly, because the words had to be perfect.
Here's the thing though. There is no such thing as perfect words. I'm proud of what I wrote and I hope I am accepted but in the end, if I don't get in? It's not because my words were wrong, not because they weren't powerful enough. It just means I have to try again, work a little bit harder, take another class, write more words. And if finishing my degree is really important to me, then I'll do that.
I may not have a lot of words right now and maybe that's okay. I just did something tonight that I'm really proud of and I wanted to share it. I wrote big words and applied to college.
And I just wanted you to know.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Victory Lap
I turned 29 on Saturday. 29. Finally, an odd-numbered birthday. I love those. They used to freak me out but then always end up being great, important years.
Besides, 28 blew.
Seriously you guys, 28 was one of the most difficult years ever for me. After losing my job (and spending the last few months before I lost the job stressed out of my mind), I turned into a snarly stress-beast. And I didn't like being snarly, so I became sad. I began to cocoon. And then I started having some pretty bad dreams, bringing up stuff from my past that is scary and yucky and I'm still not quite sure how to process everything. So I cocooned even more. I curled up in a ball and rarely moved outside of myself. It's like I was going through my life with a very bad migraine. I couldn't face the outside world; I had to stop seeing friends and I hid away from almost everyone. I'm still not sure how I managed to sustain my relationship with Slim. It helps that he's the most compassionate and understanding person I know. I'm still not sure what he sees in me but I will say this: the guy deserves a trophy, a cupcake, and a vacation.
Cocooning is a funny thing. I realize now hiding away from my friends was necessary for beginning to cope with these memories and what-ifs. I still can't put actual words to them or even talk about them very much. And I don't regret taking that time because it was necessary and required. And y'all, I'm lucky. So many people in my life have offered me grace through the last few months, understanding when I can't seem to leave my house and always making me feel loved. Sadly, others have not been able to understand (because I'm not really able to vocalize and explain myself) and I've seen a few friendships change. I like to view them as being put on pause and have hope of seeing these relationships move forward.
I was so fortunate to find a job I love back in August. I'm energized by my work (even though I'm so exhausted I'm falling asleep by 8:00 every night). Being with the babies every day pushed my outside of myself and forced me to focus on someone else. It was just what I needed. The babies are growing and learning and interacting with their environment in new ways every day and I get to be a part of it. I get to help them experience the world. Seriously, best job I've ever had.
I've moved again, this time living in a house with two of my best friends and their 6-month-old son. I get to watch him grow every day and watch the amazing relationship he has with his parents (and they have with each other). I'm surrounded by family and I feel like I belong. This has been instrumental in my finding the courage to move forward.
And I am, guys. I'm finding my courage again. I'm being brave. I'm back in improv class and pushing myself to take risks. I now go out more than I stay in, although I still can't quite handle big groups. But I'm getting quality one on one time with dear friends. Slim and I have been learning so much about ourselves and each other in our relationship and we are stronger for it.
I'm taking steps toward the future. My application to college is due on February 15th, coincidentally the day I begin doing weekly volunteer work at a local hospital to try out my Maybe-Career to see if it fits. My darling Linds is coming for a visit in 3 weeks. Slim and I are taking a much-needed trip to Montreal for Passover and I can't wait to spend a few days with his family and to see some very wonderful faces around the Seder table.
So here I am. Back from another absence from the blog, trying to get the courage to come out of my safety-cocoon and take a step back into the world, a year older and a whole lot stronger.
I'm 29 now. And I like it.
If you're still out there, dear reader, I'm hopeful about finding more words. I hope you're still there to read them.
Besides, 28 blew.
Seriously you guys, 28 was one of the most difficult years ever for me. After losing my job (and spending the last few months before I lost the job stressed out of my mind), I turned into a snarly stress-beast. And I didn't like being snarly, so I became sad. I began to cocoon. And then I started having some pretty bad dreams, bringing up stuff from my past that is scary and yucky and I'm still not quite sure how to process everything. So I cocooned even more. I curled up in a ball and rarely moved outside of myself. It's like I was going through my life with a very bad migraine. I couldn't face the outside world; I had to stop seeing friends and I hid away from almost everyone. I'm still not sure how I managed to sustain my relationship with Slim. It helps that he's the most compassionate and understanding person I know. I'm still not sure what he sees in me but I will say this: the guy deserves a trophy, a cupcake, and a vacation.
Cocooning is a funny thing. I realize now hiding away from my friends was necessary for beginning to cope with these memories and what-ifs. I still can't put actual words to them or even talk about them very much. And I don't regret taking that time because it was necessary and required. And y'all, I'm lucky. So many people in my life have offered me grace through the last few months, understanding when I can't seem to leave my house and always making me feel loved. Sadly, others have not been able to understand (because I'm not really able to vocalize and explain myself) and I've seen a few friendships change. I like to view them as being put on pause and have hope of seeing these relationships move forward.
I was so fortunate to find a job I love back in August. I'm energized by my work (even though I'm so exhausted I'm falling asleep by 8:00 every night). Being with the babies every day pushed my outside of myself and forced me to focus on someone else. It was just what I needed. The babies are growing and learning and interacting with their environment in new ways every day and I get to be a part of it. I get to help them experience the world. Seriously, best job I've ever had.
I've moved again, this time living in a house with two of my best friends and their 6-month-old son. I get to watch him grow every day and watch the amazing relationship he has with his parents (and they have with each other). I'm surrounded by family and I feel like I belong. This has been instrumental in my finding the courage to move forward.
And I am, guys. I'm finding my courage again. I'm being brave. I'm back in improv class and pushing myself to take risks. I now go out more than I stay in, although I still can't quite handle big groups. But I'm getting quality one on one time with dear friends. Slim and I have been learning so much about ourselves and each other in our relationship and we are stronger for it.
I'm taking steps toward the future. My application to college is due on February 15th, coincidentally the day I begin doing weekly volunteer work at a local hospital to try out my Maybe-Career to see if it fits. My darling Linds is coming for a visit in 3 weeks. Slim and I are taking a much-needed trip to Montreal for Passover and I can't wait to spend a few days with his family and to see some very wonderful faces around the Seder table.
So here I am. Back from another absence from the blog, trying to get the courage to come out of my safety-cocoon and take a step back into the world, a year older and a whole lot stronger.
I'm 29 now. And I like it.
If you're still out there, dear reader, I'm hopeful about finding more words. I hope you're still there to read them.
Monday, July 27, 2009
One Thing at a Time:
In the comments on my last post, Simply Urban (who I'm going to call SU, for our purposes here) had a great idea. A to-do list that has only one item on it. This way, it's quite easy to tackle your to-do list for the day and finish everything on it, feeling a huge burst of self-satisfaction.
I'm SO down with this.
So SU, I accept your proposal to do a shorter to-do.
Here was my list today:
-Figure out my traffic tickets.
I'll explain this but first I must ask my mother not to read further because if she does, she will inevitably call me up and, when I don't answer (which I won't because I know what's coming), she'll leave the following message: ALIDA DIANE! YOU CALL ME BACK THE *MINUTE* YOU GET THIS MESSAGE. I KNOW YOU'RE HOME. I AM STILL YOUR MOTHER AND I CAN STILL TELL YOU WHAT TO DO."
Shudder.
Okay, now that Mom has turned away (or covered her eyes), I can tell the rest of you the story of the traffic tickets.
As we all know, I had no job for many months. I used my savings on frivolous things like food and rent. I had very little income. And my registration on my car expired in the same month I lost my job. Now, I've never been timely on updating my tags/inspection. I used to drive around Texas with expired stickers. I did have a foolproof method of not getting pulled over though. Every time a cop passed me, I would shout out loud in my car, "MY TAGS ARE EXPIRED! I AM ILLEGAL!" I am convinced it is my honesty that kept the cops from noticing and pulling me over.
Seattle is different. My tags are not a sticker. My tags are on my license plate. I DID NOT REALIZE THIS. So I thought I was free and clear until I got my life back together and could afford to pay for such things as registration.
One day, as I walked toward my car, I noticed a ticket on the windshield. I was cited for "Improper display of license." I thought, "Oh, that's a weird thing." And so I looked at my license plates. The front one was crooked. So I figured Seattle cops were a little OCD, grouched about it, fixed my plate, and went on with my life.
(It should be noted that paying a ticket was in the category of paying registration: something I could do SOMEDAY.)
A few weeks later, it happened again. This time, my license plate wasn't crooked so I was at a loss. Still, I am a GOOD avoider, so I tucked the ticket away and went on with my life in a very "la la la I CAN'T HEAR YOU" fashion.
A couple weeks ago, I was finally pulled over for my registration. The cop was quite nice and gave me a warning, telling me I'd need to take care of my tickets before I could renew my registration. He asked that I do that as soon as I could. I promised him I would.
LESS THAN 24 HOURS LATER, i was pulled over again. This cop was not as nice and gave me a hefty ticket for expired tags. So now my bank account had gotten smaller while my debt to the city of Seattle had grown considerably.
The following week, I still was AVOIDING. One morning, I went out to my car and it was not where I parked it. Nay, it was not anywhere on the street. I freaked, figuring someone had stolen my car. Then I realized I drive a huge SUV and nobody is going to steal that in this economy with these gas prices.
I called the tow company and sho' nuff, Susie Lightning was incarcerated. Locked behind bars. In the clink. GONE. And it was going to cost $240 to get her back.
Bitches.
(And I'm not talking about the city of Seattle, dear faithful. I'm talking about me and my avoidance. We are a bunch of bitches.)
So Moo and I hopped a bus and bailed S.Lighning out of the big house. And again, my debt grew while my bank account dwindled.
I knew I had to call to find out what the damage is in parking fees so that I could figure out how to take care of them so that I can register my car. But I was afraid, so I kept getting "busy." And then last Friday I really was going to call but then I got side-tracked and only remembered at 5:07 (the office closed at 5pm). Blast.
So I knew today had to be the day. It HAD to be. I've been parking my car in a neighborhood near my apartment, hiding it on residential streets, avoiding driving, terrified of being towed or getting another ticket.
And I called, y'all. And the damage, it is bad. It is not affordable. But it must be payed.
So now I'm figuring out how. And I actually feel good about all of this because at least I'm taking action and DOING something, rather than avoiding. This is progress for me. This is a LOT of progress.
I must offer my thanks to SU for giving me such a great idea. I hope she'll play too and share her One Thing at a Time with me! In fact, I hope you all do! Think of the fun we'll have, doing our One Thing at a Time and crossing it off of our to-do list! We'll feel so good about ourselves!
And Mom, I know you read this whole thing. So you'll understand when I don't answer your next phone call.
Please still love me Mama. Won't you please be my friend?
PS: Go visit SU over here: Simply Urban
Give her some blog-lovin' and peer pressure her into sharing her to-do list with us!
I'm SO down with this.
So SU, I accept your proposal to do a shorter to-do.
Here was my list today:
-Figure out my traffic tickets.
I'll explain this but first I must ask my mother not to read further because if she does, she will inevitably call me up and, when I don't answer (which I won't because I know what's coming), she'll leave the following message: ALIDA DIANE! YOU CALL ME BACK THE *MINUTE* YOU GET THIS MESSAGE. I KNOW YOU'RE HOME. I AM STILL YOUR MOTHER AND I CAN STILL TELL YOU WHAT TO DO."
Shudder.
Okay, now that Mom has turned away (or covered her eyes), I can tell the rest of you the story of the traffic tickets.
As we all know, I had no job for many months. I used my savings on frivolous things like food and rent. I had very little income. And my registration on my car expired in the same month I lost my job. Now, I've never been timely on updating my tags/inspection. I used to drive around Texas with expired stickers. I did have a foolproof method of not getting pulled over though. Every time a cop passed me, I would shout out loud in my car, "MY TAGS ARE EXPIRED! I AM ILLEGAL!" I am convinced it is my honesty that kept the cops from noticing and pulling me over.
Seattle is different. My tags are not a sticker. My tags are on my license plate. I DID NOT REALIZE THIS. So I thought I was free and clear until I got my life back together and could afford to pay for such things as registration.
One day, as I walked toward my car, I noticed a ticket on the windshield. I was cited for "Improper display of license." I thought, "Oh, that's a weird thing." And so I looked at my license plates. The front one was crooked. So I figured Seattle cops were a little OCD, grouched about it, fixed my plate, and went on with my life.
(It should be noted that paying a ticket was in the category of paying registration: something I could do SOMEDAY.)
A few weeks later, it happened again. This time, my license plate wasn't crooked so I was at a loss. Still, I am a GOOD avoider, so I tucked the ticket away and went on with my life in a very "la la la I CAN'T HEAR YOU" fashion.
A couple weeks ago, I was finally pulled over for my registration. The cop was quite nice and gave me a warning, telling me I'd need to take care of my tickets before I could renew my registration. He asked that I do that as soon as I could. I promised him I would.
LESS THAN 24 HOURS LATER, i was pulled over again. This cop was not as nice and gave me a hefty ticket for expired tags. So now my bank account had gotten smaller while my debt to the city of Seattle had grown considerably.
The following week, I still was AVOIDING. One morning, I went out to my car and it was not where I parked it. Nay, it was not anywhere on the street. I freaked, figuring someone had stolen my car. Then I realized I drive a huge SUV and nobody is going to steal that in this economy with these gas prices.
I called the tow company and sho' nuff, Susie Lightning was incarcerated. Locked behind bars. In the clink. GONE. And it was going to cost $240 to get her back.
Bitches.
(And I'm not talking about the city of Seattle, dear faithful. I'm talking about me and my avoidance. We are a bunch of bitches.)
So Moo and I hopped a bus and bailed S.Lighning out of the big house. And again, my debt grew while my bank account dwindled.
I knew I had to call to find out what the damage is in parking fees so that I could figure out how to take care of them so that I can register my car. But I was afraid, so I kept getting "busy." And then last Friday I really was going to call but then I got side-tracked and only remembered at 5:07 (the office closed at 5pm). Blast.
So I knew today had to be the day. It HAD to be. I've been parking my car in a neighborhood near my apartment, hiding it on residential streets, avoiding driving, terrified of being towed or getting another ticket.
And I called, y'all. And the damage, it is bad. It is not affordable. But it must be payed.
So now I'm figuring out how. And I actually feel good about all of this because at least I'm taking action and DOING something, rather than avoiding. This is progress for me. This is a LOT of progress.
I must offer my thanks to SU for giving me such a great idea. I hope she'll play too and share her One Thing at a Time with me! In fact, I hope you all do! Think of the fun we'll have, doing our One Thing at a Time and crossing it off of our to-do list! We'll feel so good about ourselves!
And Mom, I know you read this whole thing. So you'll understand when I don't answer your next phone call.
Please still love me Mama. Won't you please be my friend?
PS: Go visit SU over here: Simply Urban
Give her some blog-lovin' and peer pressure her into sharing her to-do list with us!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Life Going By
I've been out of work since early March. When I lost my job I was sad, sure, but I was also a bit excited about having Time. I knew I'd have so much free time in which to do whatever I wanted. I planned so many great things. I was going to write. I was going to take long walks and get to know Seattle in a completely new way. I was I going to visit all the farmers' markets and cook delicious healthy dishes full of delicious healthy veggies. I was going to reconnect with friends and reconnect with myself.
I did exactly zero of these things.
Things I did instead:
-Slept.
-Whined.
-Watched the entire series of Alias.
-Watched WAY too much Law and Order: SVU.
-Got frustrated with myself.
-Whined some more.
-Got a little tiny job.
-Lost little tiny job.
-Decided I am my own worst enemy.
-Tried to be introspective.
-Took a nap instead.
-Ate toast.
The upside of this is that I did not spend my months of unemployment eating junk food. I stayed Gyminee-friendly. I did take walks, but not all over Seattle, just around my neighborhood. I've eaten way more fruit than I have vegetables. I whined so much that I grew sick of myself and had to take naps just to avoid my own company.
Over the 4th, Jon and I went to Idaho to camp with my sister and her husband. We'd designated the drive home (8 hours) to make a list of everything I needed to do to get my life in order. My finances are a hot mess and I was dealing with that by avoiding all thought of bills and money. I was in crunch time to find a new job, any job, so we had to make a list of possibilities including: coffee shops, grocery stores, and selling my body in Denny Park. Something about making this list snapped me out of my funk; it was a Come to Jesus moment with my Jewish boyfriend, which is as weird as it sounds.
The next day, I went to visit my friend Vickie, who was about a billion weeks pregnant and getting ready to give birth at any time. I mentioned to her that I wanted to be a nanny and asked for her thoughts (as she was a nanny before she got all Smug Pregnant woman on me). Vickie put my name out on a parenting email list and the next thing I knew, I had prospects emailing me like crazy. Within two weeks, I had found the perfect families and babies and am now happily employed by the Yummy Mummies. And Vickie has given birth to sweet baby Thor, so life moves on.
I can't be fully happy yet though. I am unsatisfied with my behavior of the past few months. Perhaps it was necessary that I tuck away into the cocoon of myself but really it just feels lame, like I wasted 4 months watching life going by. I think I always felt that something was going to come along and save me from all my problems. You would think I would have learned long ago that life doesn't work like this, but apparently my 28-year-old self decided to regress back to my 18-year-old selfishness.
I always try to create perfect scenes in my head and recreate them in real life. For example, I can always perfectly picture myself typing away on my laptop at the bakery down the street from my house, sipping peppermint tea and eating toast and typing words that will change the world (or at least words that will be spelled correctly). But whenever I try to create this scene in real life, it's never how I imagined. The bakery is loud and they are slicing onions in the back, so my eyes are watering and my mascara is running down my cheeks and I have the sniffles. My toast is cold and my peppermint tea kind of tastes like goat cheese (??) and I have no idea what to write about. By the time I sit down and am ready to begin writing, the whole production has exhausted me and I want nothing more than to pack it in and go home and go to sleep.
I'm trying not to be too hard on myself. I'm told my behavior is normal for someone who is unemployed. Productivity begets productivity, so when you have nothing to do, it's hard to do anything. For me though, this doesn't help. I'm a time-waster by nature, perfectly content to spend an entire day reading on the sofa or marathoning some silly television show. I hear people say they get antsy if they don't have anything to do, that they wake up on a Saturday ready to tackle a huge to-do list. I'm not like that. I'd like to change, at least a little bit.
Some of this is due to hormonal issues which have now been taken care of (I hope). A lot of this is due to being overweight which should get much better now that the aforementioned hormonal issues have been resolved. I am not a lost cause. But I'm far from the person I'd like to be. I'd like to be more flexible, able to roll with changes and adapt quickly. I'd like to be on top of my life, from finances to housekeeping to knowing when my passport expires and paying parking tickets on time. I'd like to not snap at Jon for no good reason just because I'm feeling upset with myself for being lazy. And I'd really like to know why my peppermint tea tastes like goat cheese (???).
There's really no point to anything I'm saying right now, no magic moral at the end of this story. If I had to pick a bottom line, I guess it would be that I am ready for things to change. I'm sure getting out of the house every day to go to a job I like will help tremendously. But mostly I think it's time to start taking responsibility for the things about myself I don't like very much and quit making excuses or expecting something or someone to charge in and fix it all.
Thankfulness. It's a lesson I haven't figured out yet, at all.
But I am thankful for people like you who read and listen and come back even when I've tucked myself away for so long. And I'm thankful for a boyfriend who has become a partner and a mirror and comic relief when things get really tough. So maybe I've been watching life going by but at least I've noticed some of the better things it has to offer.
PS: I haven't weighed myself in a few weeks. Gyminee is still going but with the health issues I've had, we decided to resolve those before I got back on the scale. My doctor was quite impressed with my weight loss plan and she believes I'll have much success in the coming months. Expect a weigh-in next week!
I did exactly zero of these things.
Things I did instead:
-Slept.
-Whined.
-Watched the entire series of Alias.
-Watched WAY too much Law and Order: SVU.
-Got frustrated with myself.
-Whined some more.
-Got a little tiny job.
-Lost little tiny job.
-Decided I am my own worst enemy.
-Tried to be introspective.
-Took a nap instead.
-Ate toast.
The upside of this is that I did not spend my months of unemployment eating junk food. I stayed Gyminee-friendly. I did take walks, but not all over Seattle, just around my neighborhood. I've eaten way more fruit than I have vegetables. I whined so much that I grew sick of myself and had to take naps just to avoid my own company.
Over the 4th, Jon and I went to Idaho to camp with my sister and her husband. We'd designated the drive home (8 hours) to make a list of everything I needed to do to get my life in order. My finances are a hot mess and I was dealing with that by avoiding all thought of bills and money. I was in crunch time to find a new job, any job, so we had to make a list of possibilities including: coffee shops, grocery stores, and selling my body in Denny Park. Something about making this list snapped me out of my funk; it was a Come to Jesus moment with my Jewish boyfriend, which is as weird as it sounds.
The next day, I went to visit my friend Vickie, who was about a billion weeks pregnant and getting ready to give birth at any time. I mentioned to her that I wanted to be a nanny and asked for her thoughts (as she was a nanny before she got all Smug Pregnant woman on me). Vickie put my name out on a parenting email list and the next thing I knew, I had prospects emailing me like crazy. Within two weeks, I had found the perfect families and babies and am now happily employed by the Yummy Mummies. And Vickie has given birth to sweet baby Thor, so life moves on.
I can't be fully happy yet though. I am unsatisfied with my behavior of the past few months. Perhaps it was necessary that I tuck away into the cocoon of myself but really it just feels lame, like I wasted 4 months watching life going by. I think I always felt that something was going to come along and save me from all my problems. You would think I would have learned long ago that life doesn't work like this, but apparently my 28-year-old self decided to regress back to my 18-year-old selfishness.
I always try to create perfect scenes in my head and recreate them in real life. For example, I can always perfectly picture myself typing away on my laptop at the bakery down the street from my house, sipping peppermint tea and eating toast and typing words that will change the world (or at least words that will be spelled correctly). But whenever I try to create this scene in real life, it's never how I imagined. The bakery is loud and they are slicing onions in the back, so my eyes are watering and my mascara is running down my cheeks and I have the sniffles. My toast is cold and my peppermint tea kind of tastes like goat cheese (??) and I have no idea what to write about. By the time I sit down and am ready to begin writing, the whole production has exhausted me and I want nothing more than to pack it in and go home and go to sleep.
I'm trying not to be too hard on myself. I'm told my behavior is normal for someone who is unemployed. Productivity begets productivity, so when you have nothing to do, it's hard to do anything. For me though, this doesn't help. I'm a time-waster by nature, perfectly content to spend an entire day reading on the sofa or marathoning some silly television show. I hear people say they get antsy if they don't have anything to do, that they wake up on a Saturday ready to tackle a huge to-do list. I'm not like that. I'd like to change, at least a little bit.
Some of this is due to hormonal issues which have now been taken care of (I hope). A lot of this is due to being overweight which should get much better now that the aforementioned hormonal issues have been resolved. I am not a lost cause. But I'm far from the person I'd like to be. I'd like to be more flexible, able to roll with changes and adapt quickly. I'd like to be on top of my life, from finances to housekeeping to knowing when my passport expires and paying parking tickets on time. I'd like to not snap at Jon for no good reason just because I'm feeling upset with myself for being lazy. And I'd really like to know why my peppermint tea tastes like goat cheese (???).
There's really no point to anything I'm saying right now, no magic moral at the end of this story. If I had to pick a bottom line, I guess it would be that I am ready for things to change. I'm sure getting out of the house every day to go to a job I like will help tremendously. But mostly I think it's time to start taking responsibility for the things about myself I don't like very much and quit making excuses or expecting something or someone to charge in and fix it all.
Thankfulness. It's a lesson I haven't figured out yet, at all.
But I am thankful for people like you who read and listen and come back even when I've tucked myself away for so long. And I'm thankful for a boyfriend who has become a partner and a mirror and comic relief when things get really tough. So maybe I've been watching life going by but at least I've noticed some of the better things it has to offer.
PS: I haven't weighed myself in a few weeks. Gyminee is still going but with the health issues I've had, we decided to resolve those before I got back on the scale. My doctor was quite impressed with my weight loss plan and she believes I'll have much success in the coming months. Expect a weigh-in next week!
Friday, June 05, 2009
I've killed Mii-self.
Almost.
So yesterday was Mayday WeighDay. Because I was so lofty and enlightened for all those years, I do not own a scale. However, I live with a boy so that means I'm fortunate enough to own a Wii (by proxy). And the Wii has the Wii Fit. Which acts as a scale.
The upside to the Wii scale? Making my cute little Mii. She's all decked out in black leggings and a kicky hot pink shirt and she's positively adorable, with her cute little belly and her shiny brown hair. I heart my Mii very much. She's so joyful when we hoola hoop.
The downside to the Wii scale? It breaks my spirit each and every time.
See, when you use the Wii scale as your means of measuring weight, you have to listen to the little cartoon Balance Board on your television. It's so chipper and cheery and makes you think that losing weight and getting into shape is going to be SO EASY AND FUN! It draws you (by way of your cute and round little Mii) in and encourages you to face the music because together, TOGETHER, things are going to be okay! Hooray!
And then you step on the balance board and it goes like this:
Wii Cartoon Balance Board: Step on!! (cheery cheery ISN'T THIS FUN??)
Me: Okay! (Stepping on) I'm so glad to be doing this whatever with you, Wii Cartoon Balance Board! You are so cheery and I just know that you are going to be so supportive and understa--
Wii Cartoon Balance Board: OOOF.
Me: GO TO HELL.
So already it doesn't start well. And it gets worse. It measures your body weight and BMI and then it stands your cute, precious, sweet little Mii up next to a bar graph. The graph shows Healthy, Overweight, OBESE. And it runs through numbers and you and your Mii are clutching hands and so excited to see the fruits of your labor (actually eating fruits instead of ice cream and laboring on a 7.6 mile hike with a 2800 FOOT ELEVATION GAIN) and see the number fall from the UNGODLY number you saw last week.
You guys. YOU GUYS. My number? Went UP by 2 lbs! UP. UUUUUUUU-PPPPPPPP!!!!!
Oh my word. And my Mii? My sweet, cute, kicky pink shirt and black leggings round little Mii? She and I both watched in abject HORROR as the numbers pushed our bar graph UP INTO THE OBESE RANGE. And then, before I could shield her from the damage, she started getting ROUNDER.
That's right. Because I gained 2 effin' lbs, my poor little Mii got fatter. And IT GETS WORSE. Not only did my sweet Mii blimp out a bit more, no, she also STARTED SWEATING.
You guys. I'm killing my Mii. I'm so terrified that if I gain another pound, she's going to go numb in the left arm and her little sweet cartoon heart will EXPLODE ALL OVER THE PLACE.
I have no idea why my number went up. Go onto Gyminee! Go look at what I ate! I was good! I did exercise! I'm doing PUSHUPS. I hiked a muther-effin' 7.6 miles!!!
And still I gain two pounds.
My roommate came home to find me prostrate on the floor, begging and pleading with the Wii Balance Board to have mercy on my sweet little Mii. Defeated and broken. Ready to dive into a pint of ice cream because WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT EVEN MAKE?
He then offered a small glimmer of hope. "Why don't you," he said, "go into my bathroom and use my scale? I'm guessing the Wii Balance Board isn't the most accurate, especially on carpet."
God bless him. He has good ideas and he averts his eyes when it's so damn hot outside that I'm wearing tiny little scandalous shorts that nobody with my thighs has any business wearing.
Now, even though I know better (as by this time it was the afternoon and you NEVER, according to Toommate, NEVER weigh yourself in the afternoon. Toommate believes whole-heartedly that you must follow these guidelines for weighing in:
Toommates Guidelines for Weighing In and NOT Killing Yourself:
1) Weigh yourself first thing in the morning.
2) Weigh yourself dry and NEKKID.
But I was desperate. I wanted so badly for those 2lbs to be a fluke of Nintendo and not an accurate representation of my sad, pathetic body. So I rushed into the bathroom of Steenis and stepped on his scale. And let loose with a string of profanities the likes of which I usually reserve for that stupid bitch Delilah (the one on the radio. The horsefaced you-know-what dragon. I hate her. HATE.).
You see, The Scale of Steenis showed my weight at 193. THAT IS ALMOST 200LBS. And it is 6LBS MORE THAN I WEIGHED LAST WEEK.
Shudder. Cringe. Die.
I declared myself officially broken up with food and emailed my guy and Urmy in tears, swearing to never eat again.
Then Slim came home from work and took me out for sashimi and a popsicle.
And then I felt better. Because protein will do that to you, y'all.
This story doesn't end so badly. This morning, after a 5 mile walk, I weighed myself again, this time dry, nekkid, and praying to the Scale of Steenis for a reprieve. 189.4. Still more than last week but better than yesterday.
So you know, this is why I don't usually weigh myself. Because now I'm FACING THE MUSIC. And I'm killing my Mii. And I'm not even killing her softly with my song. I'm killing her slowly with my affinity toward the delicious and my utter loathing for any sort of physical activity that could even resemble exercise.
But I'm determined. I will not let the Evil Wii Cartoon Balance Board defeat me. I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED.
I will just start bribing the Scale of Steenis.
Yeah, that should do the trick.
Please, someone come over and save my Mii from Mii-self.
So yesterday was Mayday WeighDay. Because I was so lofty and enlightened for all those years, I do not own a scale. However, I live with a boy so that means I'm fortunate enough to own a Wii (by proxy). And the Wii has the Wii Fit. Which acts as a scale.
The upside to the Wii scale? Making my cute little Mii. She's all decked out in black leggings and a kicky hot pink shirt and she's positively adorable, with her cute little belly and her shiny brown hair. I heart my Mii very much. She's so joyful when we hoola hoop.
The downside to the Wii scale? It breaks my spirit each and every time.
See, when you use the Wii scale as your means of measuring weight, you have to listen to the little cartoon Balance Board on your television. It's so chipper and cheery and makes you think that losing weight and getting into shape is going to be SO EASY AND FUN! It draws you (by way of your cute and round little Mii) in and encourages you to face the music because together, TOGETHER, things are going to be okay! Hooray!
And then you step on the balance board and it goes like this:
Wii Cartoon Balance Board: Step on!! (cheery cheery ISN'T THIS FUN??)
Me: Okay! (Stepping on) I'm so glad to be doing this whatever with you, Wii Cartoon Balance Board! You are so cheery and I just know that you are going to be so supportive and understa--
Wii Cartoon Balance Board: OOOF.
Me: GO TO HELL.
So already it doesn't start well. And it gets worse. It measures your body weight and BMI and then it stands your cute, precious, sweet little Mii up next to a bar graph. The graph shows Healthy, Overweight, OBESE. And it runs through numbers and you and your Mii are clutching hands and so excited to see the fruits of your labor (actually eating fruits instead of ice cream and laboring on a 7.6 mile hike with a 2800 FOOT ELEVATION GAIN) and see the number fall from the UNGODLY number you saw last week.
You guys. YOU GUYS. My number? Went UP by 2 lbs! UP. UUUUUUUU-PPPPPPPP!!!!!
Oh my word. And my Mii? My sweet, cute, kicky pink shirt and black leggings round little Mii? She and I both watched in abject HORROR as the numbers pushed our bar graph UP INTO THE OBESE RANGE. And then, before I could shield her from the damage, she started getting ROUNDER.
That's right. Because I gained 2 effin' lbs, my poor little Mii got fatter. And IT GETS WORSE. Not only did my sweet Mii blimp out a bit more, no, she also STARTED SWEATING.
You guys. I'm killing my Mii. I'm so terrified that if I gain another pound, she's going to go numb in the left arm and her little sweet cartoon heart will EXPLODE ALL OVER THE PLACE.
I have no idea why my number went up. Go onto Gyminee! Go look at what I ate! I was good! I did exercise! I'm doing PUSHUPS. I hiked a muther-effin' 7.6 miles!!!
And still I gain two pounds.
My roommate came home to find me prostrate on the floor, begging and pleading with the Wii Balance Board to have mercy on my sweet little Mii. Defeated and broken. Ready to dive into a pint of ice cream because WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT EVEN MAKE?
He then offered a small glimmer of hope. "Why don't you," he said, "go into my bathroom and use my scale? I'm guessing the Wii Balance Board isn't the most accurate, especially on carpet."
God bless him. He has good ideas and he averts his eyes when it's so damn hot outside that I'm wearing tiny little scandalous shorts that nobody with my thighs has any business wearing.
Now, even though I know better (as by this time it was the afternoon and you NEVER, according to Toommate, NEVER weigh yourself in the afternoon. Toommate believes whole-heartedly that you must follow these guidelines for weighing in:
Toommates Guidelines for Weighing In and NOT Killing Yourself:
1) Weigh yourself first thing in the morning.
2) Weigh yourself dry and NEKKID.
But I was desperate. I wanted so badly for those 2lbs to be a fluke of Nintendo and not an accurate representation of my sad, pathetic body. So I rushed into the bathroom of Steenis and stepped on his scale. And let loose with a string of profanities the likes of which I usually reserve for that stupid bitch Delilah (the one on the radio. The horsefaced you-know-what dragon. I hate her. HATE.).
You see, The Scale of Steenis showed my weight at 193. THAT IS ALMOST 200LBS. And it is 6LBS MORE THAN I WEIGHED LAST WEEK.
Shudder. Cringe. Die.
I declared myself officially broken up with food and emailed my guy and Urmy in tears, swearing to never eat again.
Then Slim came home from work and took me out for sashimi and a popsicle.
And then I felt better. Because protein will do that to you, y'all.
This story doesn't end so badly. This morning, after a 5 mile walk, I weighed myself again, this time dry, nekkid, and praying to the Scale of Steenis for a reprieve. 189.4. Still more than last week but better than yesterday.
So you know, this is why I don't usually weigh myself. Because now I'm FACING THE MUSIC. And I'm killing my Mii. And I'm not even killing her softly with my song. I'm killing her slowly with my affinity toward the delicious and my utter loathing for any sort of physical activity that could even resemble exercise.
But I'm determined. I will not let the Evil Wii Cartoon Balance Board defeat me. I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED.
I will just start bribing the Scale of Steenis.
Yeah, that should do the trick.
Please, someone come over and save my Mii from Mii-self.
Friday, May 29, 2009
The Weight of My Words
I didn't weigh myself for nearly 4 years. I said that weight was just a number and that it didn't define who I was. I was not a number on a scale. I was beyond numbers on a scale. I was ENLIGHTENED!
I was also full of shit.
(Sorry Erica, for the the bad word. But I just really was full of...that.)
See, I'm happy to be all high and mighty and tight-lipped when my weight is quite clearly something I don't want to know. But if the scale said something like 130? I would have tattooed that number on my forehead and then gone shouting in the streets, "I weigh 130 BITCHES!"
It's true.
So the first step, they say, is admitting the problem. And the problem is heavy, guys. The problem actually is about 187lbs of heavy.
Seriously.
Wow, okay. I did it.
Moving on!
So how am I going to solve this 187lb problem? The answer is simple: better food, actual exercise, and motivation.
Better food: find me on www.dailyburn.com (user: BooyahGirl). You'll be able to see what I'm eating every day. You can be my friend and we can motivate each other. Please note that all motivation should be typed LIKE THIS BECAUSE MOTIVATION CLEARLY SHOULD BE IN ALL CAPS! MOTIVATION!!!!!!!!
Actual exercise: I've joined two challenges so far on Gyminee (which is what Daily Burn used to be called, but Gyminee is cuter and we are sticking to that name). I will be doing 1000 push-ups (not all at once, but a few every day) and walking 1000 miles (again, not all at once). We are also going to start hiking and I'm going to be walking Slim to a bus stop 2.3 miles away 3 times a week.
Motivation: First, Slim and I are choosing one treat to enjoy each weekend, only if we've done very well on our Gyminee goals during the week. Second, I've decided on a reward for every milestone:
10lbs: hiking pants
15lbs: one Yoga class a week
20lbs: a new swimsuit
25lbs: Haircut/color
Etc.
I told Slim that I wanted to get to a point where I felt comfortable to wear a bikini top with shorts. He told me that when I reach that goal, he wanted to do something special as a reward.
That reward?
That's right, guys. HAWAII! I've already set that picture as my desktop background *and* I've downloaded some Hawaiian music onto my iPod for my workouts.
So there you have it. My plan to tell this extra weight, "Aloha," and to finally see what 140lbs looks like.
Come onto Gyminee and be my friend. Follow along here. Offer advice!
I'm going to kick ass on this Whatever. Mark my words! My weighty, weighty words.
I was also full of shit.
(Sorry Erica, for the the bad word. But I just really was full of...that.)
See, I'm happy to be all high and mighty and tight-lipped when my weight is quite clearly something I don't want to know. But if the scale said something like 130? I would have tattooed that number on my forehead and then gone shouting in the streets, "I weigh 130 BITCHES!"
It's true.
So the first step, they say, is admitting the problem. And the problem is heavy, guys. The problem actually is about 187lbs of heavy.
Seriously.
Wow, okay. I did it.
Moving on!
So how am I going to solve this 187lb problem? The answer is simple: better food, actual exercise, and motivation.
Better food: find me on www.dailyburn.com (user: BooyahGirl). You'll be able to see what I'm eating every day. You can be my friend and we can motivate each other. Please note that all motivation should be typed LIKE THIS BECAUSE MOTIVATION CLEARLY SHOULD BE IN ALL CAPS! MOTIVATION!!!!!!!!
Actual exercise: I've joined two challenges so far on Gyminee (which is what Daily Burn used to be called, but Gyminee is cuter and we are sticking to that name). I will be doing 1000 push-ups (not all at once, but a few every day) and walking 1000 miles (again, not all at once). We are also going to start hiking and I'm going to be walking Slim to a bus stop 2.3 miles away 3 times a week.
Motivation: First, Slim and I are choosing one treat to enjoy each weekend, only if we've done very well on our Gyminee goals during the week. Second, I've decided on a reward for every milestone:
10lbs: hiking pants
15lbs: one Yoga class a week
20lbs: a new swimsuit
25lbs: Haircut/color
Etc.
I told Slim that I wanted to get to a point where I felt comfortable to wear a bikini top with shorts. He told me that when I reach that goal, he wanted to do something special as a reward.
That reward?
That's right, guys. HAWAII! I've already set that picture as my desktop background *and* I've downloaded some Hawaiian music onto my iPod for my workouts.
So there you have it. My plan to tell this extra weight, "Aloha," and to finally see what 140lbs looks like.
Come onto Gyminee and be my friend. Follow along here. Offer advice!
I'm going to kick ass on this Whatever. Mark my words! My weighty, weighty words.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Again we meet...(AND! I'm fat!)
After a long, awkward silence, I usually do a sort of a sheepish laugh. My sister does it too. It's kind of a quiet, awkward, "hahahahaha..." sort of laugh.
So let me just do that now.
Hahahahaha...
Yes, it's been awhile. I don't mean to disappear but I run out of words sometimes. Okay, not so much run OUT of words, but instead of writing my words, I think my words. I think my words and then I can't sleep. I can't sleep because of all the words spinning through my head. And then I get an idea of how I want to put my words and I come crawling back to the blog, all sheepish and silly-like, and promise to do better in the future.
Lather, rinse, repeat. And here we find ourselves yet AGAIN.
When last we left, I was no longer a Christian. Granted, that had happened WAY before that post, but still. Those were the last words I shared.
Since then, much has happened:
-I moved in with my friend Paul and have discovered the joys of living with a boy (hint: VIDEO GAMES)
-Linds came for an extended, much-anticipated vacation.
-The economy was tanking, allowing my job to give me a permanent, not-at-all-anticipated, vacation. A vacation that does not allow me to live the life to which I had grown accustomed, a fact that is more and more evident as I approach $0 in my checking account.
-Slim and I went to the Great North for Passover, where I participated in my first Seder and met the extended family.
-Baseball season started! Hooray! Go Yankees!
-I got fat.
Being unemployed, especially unexpectedly, puts a girl in the position of having options. She can either use her free time to play outside, exercise, breathe fresh air, and cook delicious and healthful food...OR...she can sit on her sofa, pantsless, eating miniature candy bars and throwing the wrappers on the floor, one after the other, while wallowing.
You guys. I wallowed.
In other news, last Friday night Slim and I were going on a double date with a couple we'd not yet been out with. I'm not sure what it is about being in a relationship that makes you desperate to find couple-y friends to double date with, but we're no exception to that anomaly. So I was all excited, getting ready for our date with a new(!) couple. Seattle has officially welcomed Spring and the weather was perfect for a pretty sun dress and a jean jacket.
Enter my ass. Well, that's not entirely true. The dress went up over the ass. It even went up over the stomach (ish). However, the zipper was no match for my...ahem...abilities. Sure enough, the zipper went on strike in the middle of my rib cage. I think I heard it groan, although that might have been me.
You guys. YOU GUYS. That dress FIT last summer. It fit beautifully last summer. And the saddest part? I bought it because NONE of my other dresses fit (they were, alas, too small).
I've never claimed to be good at math, but even I know that this equals NO GOOD. It was my come to Jesus moment and, if you read the previous post, you know that must mean A LOT.
So I have to do something. I was having tea last night with my darling friend Urmy Urmy La La, who has recently lost a ton of weight and is currently training for a half-marathon. Urmy got me excited months ago about getting into shape and eating healthfully, but I lost all of that motivation when I lost my job. I decided to confess all my sins to Urmy and have her be straight with me about what I should do next. She made me come with her to her house (WALKING, not driving, from the tea shop, a whole 2 BLOCKS) and armed me with some very light dumbbells, an exercise guide, and a Caramello Koala. (Yes, I know. I KNOW. But chocolate! Caramel! In the shape of a koala! WHAT ABOUT THAT IS NOT AWESOME??) She and I also pinky-swore that I would start logging everything I ate on the website she swears by, www.gyminee.com.
I got home, put the dumbbells in the corner, tucked the exercise guide into my bookcase, and promptly devoured the cute and delicious koala. As I licked the caramel off of my fingers, I SWORE to myself that I would start fresh the next morning, faithfully putting good things into my body and logging everything on Gyminee.
I know me though. I need more motivation. I need more accountability.
So here I am. I'm going to chronicle my Whatever*. I'm going to let you guys see me through the laughter, sweat, blood, tears, and stretch marks. I'm going to be brutally honest with myself and lay things out honestly. And you can give me hell if I disappear again.
Here's more motivation: as I sat on the floor with a too-small sun dress crumpled around my middle, defeated by my own body, I realized I'd been thinking/worrying/stressing about my weight for 16 years. I went on my first diet at age 12, y'all. Enough is enough.
Next up? I'm going to weigh myself and (gasp) BROADCAST my results to the internets. That's right, guys. Things just got CRAZY in here.
I'm ready for a fight. The pants? They are off!
(Maybe because they no longer fit, but still. GARRY OWEN!)
*One might use the word 'journey,' but as I am a fierce believer that the word 'journey' should only be used when someone has decided not to stop believin', I'm going to call this my 'whatever'.
So let me just do that now.
Hahahahaha...
Yes, it's been awhile. I don't mean to disappear but I run out of words sometimes. Okay, not so much run OUT of words, but instead of writing my words, I think my words. I think my words and then I can't sleep. I can't sleep because of all the words spinning through my head. And then I get an idea of how I want to put my words and I come crawling back to the blog, all sheepish and silly-like, and promise to do better in the future.
Lather, rinse, repeat. And here we find ourselves yet AGAIN.
When last we left, I was no longer a Christian. Granted, that had happened WAY before that post, but still. Those were the last words I shared.
Since then, much has happened:
-I moved in with my friend Paul and have discovered the joys of living with a boy (hint: VIDEO GAMES)
-Linds came for an extended, much-anticipated vacation.
-The economy was tanking, allowing my job to give me a permanent, not-at-all-anticipated, vacation. A vacation that does not allow me to live the life to which I had grown accustomed, a fact that is more and more evident as I approach $0 in my checking account.
-Slim and I went to the Great North for Passover, where I participated in my first Seder and met the extended family.
-Baseball season started! Hooray! Go Yankees!
-I got fat.
Being unemployed, especially unexpectedly, puts a girl in the position of having options. She can either use her free time to play outside, exercise, breathe fresh air, and cook delicious and healthful food...OR...she can sit on her sofa, pantsless, eating miniature candy bars and throwing the wrappers on the floor, one after the other, while wallowing.
You guys. I wallowed.
In other news, last Friday night Slim and I were going on a double date with a couple we'd not yet been out with. I'm not sure what it is about being in a relationship that makes you desperate to find couple-y friends to double date with, but we're no exception to that anomaly. So I was all excited, getting ready for our date with a new(!) couple. Seattle has officially welcomed Spring and the weather was perfect for a pretty sun dress and a jean jacket.
Enter my ass. Well, that's not entirely true. The dress went up over the ass. It even went up over the stomach (ish). However, the zipper was no match for my...ahem...abilities. Sure enough, the zipper went on strike in the middle of my rib cage. I think I heard it groan, although that might have been me.
You guys. YOU GUYS. That dress FIT last summer. It fit beautifully last summer. And the saddest part? I bought it because NONE of my other dresses fit (they were, alas, too small).
I've never claimed to be good at math, but even I know that this equals NO GOOD. It was my come to Jesus moment and, if you read the previous post, you know that must mean A LOT.
So I have to do something. I was having tea last night with my darling friend Urmy Urmy La La, who has recently lost a ton of weight and is currently training for a half-marathon. Urmy got me excited months ago about getting into shape and eating healthfully, but I lost all of that motivation when I lost my job. I decided to confess all my sins to Urmy and have her be straight with me about what I should do next. She made me come with her to her house (WALKING, not driving, from the tea shop, a whole 2 BLOCKS) and armed me with some very light dumbbells, an exercise guide, and a Caramello Koala. (Yes, I know. I KNOW. But chocolate! Caramel! In the shape of a koala! WHAT ABOUT THAT IS NOT AWESOME??) She and I also pinky-swore that I would start logging everything I ate on the website she swears by, www.gyminee.com.
I got home, put the dumbbells in the corner, tucked the exercise guide into my bookcase, and promptly devoured the cute and delicious koala. As I licked the caramel off of my fingers, I SWORE to myself that I would start fresh the next morning, faithfully putting good things into my body and logging everything on Gyminee.
I know me though. I need more motivation. I need more accountability.
So here I am. I'm going to chronicle my Whatever*. I'm going to let you guys see me through the laughter, sweat, blood, tears, and stretch marks. I'm going to be brutally honest with myself and lay things out honestly. And you can give me hell if I disappear again.
Here's more motivation: as I sat on the floor with a too-small sun dress crumpled around my middle, defeated by my own body, I realized I'd been thinking/worrying/stressing about my weight for 16 years. I went on my first diet at age 12, y'all. Enough is enough.
Next up? I'm going to weigh myself and (gasp) BROADCAST my results to the internets. That's right, guys. Things just got CRAZY in here.
I'm ready for a fight. The pants? They are off!
(Maybe because they no longer fit, but still. GARRY OWEN!)
*One might use the word 'journey,' but as I am a fierce believer that the word 'journey' should only be used when someone has decided not to stop believin', I'm going to call this my 'whatever'.
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