The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

C’s The Day April 5, 2016

Filed under: A-Z,Mood Swings,Weight Woes,Whatever — DDKlingonGirl @ 10:31 pm
Tags: , ,

Hello, all! I have technically failed the April writing challenges already, since I didn’t write yesterday. But you know what? We are not going to worry about that.  Not a thing we can do to turn back time, so might as well move forward from here. I was going to try to catch up by combining this entry into a C post AND a D post but I decided it was too late at night for that. My C topics are cats, candy, and crying.

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About the cats.  We have three. Yes, I know for most people that is three too many, but hey, I know someone who has NINE cats. Anyway, I don’t love them and I don’t necessarily hate them. I just hate the consequences of having them in my life. When the kids don’t clean out the litter box, my house smells. They have literally destroyed the carpet under every single door in this house by scratching to get into or out of rooms with shut doors.  And they have also destroyed my couch. I mean, granted, that thing is on its third owner. But it would still be in better shape if we didn’t have cats.

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Candy is just something there is no longer any of, left in my house. My family had their Easter celebrations late because my parents were out of town until this past weekend. My mom made baskets for everyone and there was quite a lot of candy to be had around here. This is, of course, a bad thing, because where there is candy, I will, of course, eat it. I have been engaging in a fierce battle with myself lately about eating and food and weight and self esteem, and I am losing that battle in spectacular fashion: I eat, I gain weight, I utterly loathe myself and everything about me.  This is a bad thing, and I know it. I know I am supposed to believe that people are beautiful no matter what size they are.  I am supposed to remember that sexy is an attitude. And I am supposed to know without a doubt that the most important part of any person is NOT what you see on the scale or in the mirror. I can’t do that and I don’t know why. I can’t believe or remember or know. I wish I could. I’m working on it.

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Which leads me to the final topic, crying. I have done a lot of that lately and I know it hasn’t done me a bit of good. I just have to throw off my pity party hat and throw on my “I have done this before and I can do it again” hat. Yes, it sucks royally to have to re-lose weight you have already lost once, to fight yet again a battle you have fought over and over before. I don’t know what the secret is, but if I figure it out, I will be sure to pass it on.

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And now, my C poem:

Catch me if you can

as I fall into a river of tears.

i shed them.

They come in a downpour

and rise high enough to sink ships.

My sunglasses sit on my face.

I’d like to think they hide my eyes

but really

they don’t.

my eyes are seen behind them

as the tears seep out from underneath.

Crying.

DD

4/5/16

11:25pm

 

Until next time,

D.

 

 

 

B Is For Bias, Bodies, and Boyfriends April 3, 2016

Hello, all!  Day 2 of the April challenges is here, so let’s get right into it. B is for Bias and Bodies. And Boyfriends, while we’re on the subject.

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I mentioned in my last post that I had auditioned for a show recently. Ardmore Little Theater is currently in rehearsals for “I Ought To Be In Pictures.” It is a play by Neil Simon with a cast of only three people: a man, a woman, and a late-teenage girl. Initially I went in thinking I didn’t really have a snowball’s chance of winning the adult female role. I really wanted to play the character because I felt like I really understood her. I had some concerns about some parts of the show, but overall I would have loved the chance to work through and around my issues and play the role.

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So I went in thinking I didn’t really have a chance, but at the time, I was thinking it was because there would be someone who was obviously better than I was, and they would get the part. Well, after the first night of auditions, I was kind of surprised. I had done what I thought was maybe my best audition ever and I thought Maybe I actually had a shot. The second night of auditions, when I discovered we were going to be reading the same scene again, I asked one of my friends if I should try to do it exactly the same as I had the night before or do it differently, and she said to do it differently. So as I watched everyone else read, I thought, “How can I be different from everyone else? How can I do it better than last night?” And I came up with the idea to take it in the opposite direction emotionally and take a completely different tone.  After the reading, I felt like it had been a good choice. Nobody else had gone that direction but me, at least not that I could remember. There was one lady who I felt was pretty good, but I felt like I showed more realistic emotion. Or something. I am not even sure now. I think I just generally thought I was better. BUT. She had one huge advantage. She was much thinner.

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When it came to the guys, two of them were similar but seemed pretty good to me, and the third just seemed a little bland and emotionless. Not very realistic. And there again he was the thinnest of the three. So guess who got cast? The two thin people, which really should not have surprised me, and perhaps really didn’t, because at one point they were onstage together and I thought, “I’m looking at the cast of this show right now.”

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Anyway. One of the things about theater is that the result of an audition is never truly in our hands. We might think we are the best choice, but it is all about the director’s vision and only he or she knows what that is. But in this case, I felt like the primary deciding factor was appearances. That may or not have been entirely the case, but that was how I took it. How I felt. And it did something to me. Well, several things, but mostly it reminded me of the fact of appearance bias in theater and every other field and facet of the world. No one is immune to it.

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But on this occasion, the reminder of that bias was almost crushing. I felt very angry that day. I thought I could see very clearly that large people are only allowed to be characters in a few specific situations: they are poor, they are Southern, they are stupid, or they are morally deficient. I tried to think, all day when I was at work after the cast was posted, of specific examples both from our local theater and from professional theater and in TV and movies, that supported my theory:  extra large actors and the roles they play.

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The problem is that theater is the very definition of unreality. See, in the real world, fat and unattractive people get married, have sex, and get divorced. In the world of theatre, nobody wants to see that up on stage, larger than life in spotlights in a play about love and sex. It is not fair but it is reality. No sense whining about it when it’s what we sign up for.

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Anyway, the long and short of it was that it made me reconsider the possibility of ever playing a big role, or one I really wanted. I thought I didn’t want to do it if I was up against that bias. I thought I didn’t even want to play roles I might be perfect for, if I had to play them at the size I am now. I started thinking about dislike for self and downright self-hatred and how it spills over onto others and I wondered where my compassion went. (I also realized it is getting harder for me to look people in the eyes at work, but I am not sure there is a connection there.)

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So. It was a rough couple of days. I identified a part I want in one of the shows for next season, but immediately began wondering if I were good enough. And then I wanted to back out because I want to play the part but I don’t want to play her at this size. And then I thought, well why not? If someone’s going to play her, it might as well be me.

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This entry is getting too long, but I wanted to throw in the topic of boyfriends and how it seems like I always want one, but the only guys I have loved, liked, seriously crushed on, or considered crushing on, have all had significant mental issues, by which I mean depression or bipolar or some variation on that theme. I wonder whether I am drawn to these people or I draw them to me. My counselor the other day said something I have known for years, but because of the current climate of my emotions toward myself and my size and all, it was quite depressing to be reminded of:  you have to love yourself before you can get anyone else to love you. And in the mental headspace I am in right now, all I could think was “Boy, am I screwed!”

Without further ado, today’s B Poem:

Bodies

beautiful or not,

Seen through our own eyes.

what is

or what isn’t

rejoice or cry,

but  always judge.

Always criticize.

Bodies

float

or waltz

or waddle

across a stage

or a screen

and into our imagination

catalogued

by categories of value

based on appearances

Bias is like air

it surrounds and touches,

it is inside and outside

and no matter

what the inside says…

the outside makes the decisions

for all of us

DD

4/3/16

2:04am

 

Until next time,

D.

 

 

County Fair, Country Culture, and Confessions September 8, 2014

Filed under: Family,Weight Woes — DDKlingonGirl @ 11:51 am
Tags: , , , ,
Ooooklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain! (And the County Fair happens!)

Ooooklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain! (And the County Fair happens!)

Hello all!  Hope things are super in your world.  Mine has been pretty darn good here lately, for several reasons.  I’m doing very well on my low carb eating plan.  I had a great birthday weekend this past weekend.  I am up to the eyeballs in new theater things looming on the horizon.  Things are just… pretty darn good.

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So let me tell you about my birthday evening with my kiddos.  Some of you may possibly not live in a small southern town, and have possibly never experienced anything as culturally specific as a County Fair.  Well, let me enlighten you, if I may.  Settle in, now.  Ready?  Ok.  So the Carter County Free Fair has been going on for scads of years.  Eons.  I’m not sure, but I’m too lazy a blogger to go look it up.  Anyway, it’s a tradition.  When I was growing up we used to go to the fair every year- it was always the first weekend in September.  Now, let’s get specific and identify some definitions.  The Fair is a term used to describe the entire event, but it is actually composed of two parts- the County Fair, and the Carnival.  The County Fair is exactly like the ones you used to read about in your old story books, where people bring everything from goats and pigs to quilts and preserves, to be judged against everyone else’s.  The animals are usually shown by kids raising them for 4-H projects.  My mother used to enter photos in the fair, years ago, and she won several ribbons.

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The Carnival is a different animal.  It’s your typical affair, loud music streaming from brightly lit thrill rides, slightly…strange-looking people hawking absolutely un-winnable games (ok, mostly un-winnable), and tantalizing smells emerging from travel trailers full of FAIR FOOD!  Aka, Junk on Wheels.  Aka, Heart Attack on a Paper Plate!  Funnel cakes, kettle corn, corn dogs, sausage, cotton candy, pretzels, nachos, corn on the cob, turkey legs, deep-fried ANYTHING, sodas, fruity drinks, all made while you wait, ridiculously overpriced, and oh-so-good.

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So we went to the fair Friday night, me and my kiddos.  It was my birthday, but even if it hadn’t been, we would have gone anyway, and ONLY because Miss Moneybags, aka Daughter J. had been saving up her money to take herself, her boyfriend, and her siblings, to the fair.  This was a much-anticipated and long planned event, you see.

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Well let me tell you, there were a number of thoughts that crossed my mind as we meandered through the games, food, and animals on display.  First and foremost, is the Culture of County Fair People.  Now, everyone in my group was wearing knee-length or longer shorts or pants.  But my goodness!  The clothing (or LACK thereof!) on the girls I saw!  Skin tight shorts just barely covering their butts, mysteriously coupled with boots.  Shirts that looked like they had been mangled by a mountain lion, strategically placed rips and tears and tie-ups that seem thoroughly dedicated to showing as much skin as possible while technically remaining “dressed.”  (Kind of like Miley Cyrus wearing pasties to fashion week, but that’s a whole other kind of tacky.)  And on the other extreme, the “emo” or “Goth” or “skater” kids who for some reason decided to attend the fair wearing hoodies, despite the fact that it was still over 90 degrees at 8:30 at night! And, categorized as perhaps less strange and more mildly amusing, the “Cowboy” types who saw it as an opportunity to wear their best starchy jeans, their button down shirts, their pointy-toe boots and their HUGE glittering belt buckles that would put the Crown Jewels of England to shame.  In addition were tired, stringy-looking grandmas, wrangling three or four toddler grandkids, Yuppie parents with strollers and wagons, complete with Soccer Mom performing the Lysol and Wipe Ritual in a ring around them every 10 steps.  We even saw a couple of … hmm, how to say this? Interesting-looking ladies carrying a sign for a petition to legalize marijuana.

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Waiting for Da Go! ;)

Waiting for Da Go! 😉

Anyway.  As I mentioned, it was definitely hot and sweaty.  Walking through the animal barns and in the show arena, I somehow managed to get sand between my toes (!) despite the fact that I was wearing sneakers and socks!  Daughter J. and her BF spent most of the evening riding carnival rides together, while Daughter S. and The Boy and I hung out and explored the fair.  We looked at the bunnies, and the chickens with funny hairdos, and goats.  Lots of goats. We rode only one thing together- the Ferris wheel.  It was here that I almost experienced a trauma, and it came with a flashback to a similar trauma that did in fact end up happening, years ago.  Here’s the scoop:  when we were boarding the Ferris wheel, I let the kids get on first, and they both sat on one side of the cart, which made it swing precariously in the wrong direction, making it virtually impossible for me to squeeze my rather large backside through the little gate and get into the cart.  So the very kind, and really not scary-looking at all, carnival worker and his partner swung the cart level and steadied it so I could climb in.  Well… I couldn’t quite make it.  I tried to step up but it was pretty high, and I was already worrying that this wasn’t going to work out and I would be humiliated in front of God and the world, but then I reached up, grabbed the cross-brace above the cart, pulled myself up, slid sideways through the cart gate and plopped into the seat, trying desperately to be nonchalant (a total contradiction in terms, by the way) about the fact that I had just very nearly experienced one of the most humiliating moments of my life.  I joked it off, grinning and chuckling at the kids, and we moved on.  I’m sure I told the carnival guys thank you, too, and I was hoping and praying that not too many people standing in line waiting were actually paying much attention to the people boarding the ride.

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So we took off, and the ride was very nice, and it was just almost dark.  I took some pictures, and a short video, but the funniest part was when I kept getting frustrated while trying to take pictures as we went around, when there kept being a blue bar across the picture.  I was confused, because I was sure I was missing the hub of the wheel that kept turning in front of my vision- I just knew I was timing the photo better than that, so I couldn’t figure out what on earth was getting in front of me that was making that blue bar.  The Ferris wheel bar wasn’t even blue- it was white!  Finally, I figured it out, and y’all… I am such a dork.  It was the far horizon on the opposite side of the fair grounds.  It was the sky just above the treeline.  Yeah.  I’m that goofy. A little slow on the uptake, but I get there eventually.

The Blue Bar Mystery

The Blue Bar Mystery

 

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Well, we finally got off the ride, having carefully planned our exit strategy so as to avoid the same trauma as we experienced on boarding.  It was thus:  when the ride stopped, I was going to stand, The Boy was going to slide over to my seat and sit there while I eased myself down from the cart.  Then he and his sister would have the balance to get out of the cart just fine on their own, and the poor Carnies could avoid a workman’s comp claim from holding the cart steady for my bulk to move out of it. Our carefully devised plan went off without a hitch and we all left the ride with no problems.  Well, except my son, Too-Tall Jones, who bumped his head on the cart, despite the carnival workers’ repeated warnings of “Watch your head!” to all of us as we climbed down.

 

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Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one whose experience was slightly dampened by my size.  Daughter S. and The Boy were rather chagrined that they were now too big to ride the carousel.  Sad face.  They insisted they had been allowed to ride it the previous year, and technically Daughter S. wasn’t over the weight limit, but The Boy is, since he is now 13, taller than I, and as solid as a rock.  He’s not fat, probably barely overweight now because he has gotten so tall, but the Carnie was being a stickler for rules (weight limit was 150 pounds) and decided they were both too big.  So they were pretty disappointed with that.

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Anyway.  Over all it was a pretty good evening.  Despite Hot and Sweat and Sand, it was nice.  The one drawback was that I had been planning on indulging in the ONE low carb fair concession I could imagine, which was one of those giant turkey legs, but unfortunately as far as I could tell, there were none offered at any of these particular Junk Food On Wheels places.  (The carnival was part of the Pride of Texas Midway Shows, just FYI)  We didn’t have anything to eat while there, and the only drinks I bought were two water bottles.  So we were all exhausted and ravenous by the time we left, but we took care of that on the way home and taking The Boyfriend home, the next town over.  One last look:

Ooooh, pretty!

Ooooh, pretty!

 

 

Oh, you’re still wondering about the Ferris Wheel Flashback?  I didn’t think so, but I’ll tell you anyway.  Years ago when my family was visiting Port Aransas, Texas, which was my dad’s favorite place to go, they decided to go horseback riding on the beach.  There were several places you could go to do that, and we went there, paid up, everybody got on their horses, including my dad, who has always been a big guy but at that time was still fairly athletic, I guess you could say.  Anyway, I was the last one to be given a horse, and when I went to get up on it, the saddle would start to slide toward me, and I was too afraid to just keep pulling and jump myself on up there and swing over, correcting the saddle slide as I went.  So they didn’t have a step stool or mounting block, and they refused to let my dad dismount his horse and try to offer me a hand and help me up… so I had to stay behind.  The van was locked and Mom or Dad had the keys, so I sat on the running board of the van, all by myself for what felt like two hours, feeling humiliated and suicidal because I was too big to join in with what the rest of the family were doing.  I don’t remember what year it was, or how big I was compared to now, but I’m sure I was probably actually bigger then.

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So that’s the story of the Ferris Wheel Trauma Flashback and probably the most humiliating moment of my life that I can think of right offhand.

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Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for the next post, in which heaven only knows what I’ll confess to next!  Oh- I know.  Next post will be all the Theater News!

Until next time,

D.

 

Trying Something New. Well, Sort Of. August 25, 2014

Filed under: Weight Woes — DDKlingonGirl @ 9:41 am
Tags: , , ,

Hello all.  Hope everyone is having a beautiful day.  Mine is looking pretty good so far, because I have made a choice to try something and see how it works out.  So you know a while back, I posted that ‘rah-rah cheerleading, never give up, weight loss is a battle, no butt prints in the sand, go team’ post? Well, I haven’t exactly stayed on the straight and narrow I intended to stay on since that post.  I have tried, but it hasn’t really been a consistent success.  Basically, I track and watch my points the first few days after the Weight Watchers meetings, but then the weekend hits and I turn into a Tasmanian Devil. 

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So anyway, several years ago I did Atkins for about a year.  I was very successful- I lost nearly 100 lbs in one calendar year.  Looking back it seemed pretty easy, except for the part where my family will never ever let me live down that “low-carb” pecan pie I tried to make for Thanksgiving.  Remind me to tell you that story sometime.  But basically I thought maybe I’d try that again.  I’m not cancelling my WW membership, and I’m going to keep going to the meetings, but I’m going to see if I can do a sort of mash-up low-carb/points tracking thing and  see how it goes. 

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I went to WalMart today and bought a few things to get started with, and when I arrived at work, I made me some cheap imitation Bulletproof coffee (cheap imitation with the exception of the imported Kerrygold Irish butter- nom nom!), and a “coffee mug in the microwave” egg-whites dish involving provolone cheese and Canadian bacon. Now my little tummy feels very full and satisfied, and I am quite pleased.  Now, though, comes the part where we see how the WW points will accumulate.  Since I’ve gained so much weight back, I have a pretty high points allowance, so I think I can do this without too much deprivation.  Drumroll please……………………………………. The points total is:  9!  Yes! I can totally work with that. 

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I also started a new blog.  It’s private for now, but I’m using it as a journal.  Maybe soon I will share it as a co-blog to this one.  It’s called the Low Carb Chronicles of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman. Yeah, I thought you’d like that.  So.  Wish me all the best in this endeavor, and for now I will leave you with a totally un-weight-related Monday rant: 

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People, please.  Do not ride other people’s butts when they’re going slow in the passing lane.  It’s just rude.  And it’s dangerous.  If they get ticked off and decide to tap their brakes just to teach you a lesson, you’re going to wish you’d been just a little more patient.  All it does is make you look like a jerk.  So, as my father used to like to say when he was teaching us to drive, “Just hang back and go easy.”  In fact I think I’ll make that my motto for the day.  Sounds like a good way to handle The Monday. Peace out, y’all! 

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Until next time,

D.

 

Happy Domino Day! July 30, 2014

I picked these as representative of this post because they’re pretty and they have yellow dots.

Hello all.  So I have something to share and talk about that I haven’t mentioned too much lately in light of other obsessions, but I really need all the motivation I can get on this, so I’m going to talk openly and honestly about it, and just throw it all out there.  Regular readers know I started this blog right about the time I started attending Weight Watchers meetings, right? Well, I did.  My first post here was January 21, 2010, which was two days after my first WW meeting.  Since that time, I have attended meetings consistently until the last year, when I started missing almost as many meetings as I attended.

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The weight swing was as follows:  from January 19, 2010 to June 10, 2012 I lost 129 lbs.  Yep, you read that right.  June 2012 was the once in a lifetime cruise I took my children on all by myself, and it was also my baby sister’s wedding, in which I was a bridesmaid, and it was ALSO the graduation of my one and only class of English students, whom I (only marginally successfully) taught when I was 129 pounds heavier and they were freshmen, and most of them hadn’t seen me since the end of that year.  So AFTER that…. I apparently just sort of mentally gave up.  Maybe not all at once.  Clearly not all at once.  I kept going to meetings, kept occasionally exercising, kept half-heartedly tracking my points.  But not at all with any kind of consistency, efficiency, or determination…

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…which has brought me to where I am today.  I have gradually at first, and then more rapidly, gained weight back until I am now at a net loss since January 19, 2010, of only 56 lbs.  My gain of two pounds this week put me at my heaviest weight in four years.  Up until now I have just sort of smiled and nodded at this progression, just shrugged and let it slide and figured I’d get it together at some point.  Well, that point has arrived.  I am blogging about this because I want people to know I am serious.  I have probably posted a half-dozen “I’m starting over” posts in the last two years, but this one is officially IT.

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I could probably go into a whole series of posts and thoughts about why we eat the way we do, why we eat for emotions’ sake, why we don’t exercise, why we make excuses when it comes to grocery shopping (that last is a real sore point with me.  It feels like an unavoidable fact that healthier food = a higher total at the cash register, which is so aggravating!) BUT for now I don’t think that falls within the scope of my purpose.  My point is at some moment you just have to choose to confront the issues and start fighting to fix them.

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I posted a meme on Fb today that said “You cannot fix what you choose not to confront.”  Or something like that, but it really stepped on my toes.  When it comes to the topic of health and weight loss and fitness, I always just sigh and talk about Oh, yes, it’s such a battle, it’s so hard, it’s such a struggle, I’m so tired of fighting it, who cares, what does it really matter, I have people who love me as I am, etc.  But you know what??  Seriously.  Do you know what? Those are all truths.  It is true that it’s hard, that it’s a struggle and a battle and that I’m tired of fighting it and that I have people who love me exactly as I am no matter what.  BUT… it is a battle and a struggle that is worth continuing to fight, tired or not.  The only victories in life, and I mean the ONLY big victories that have ever been won in the world, have come when the person or persons fighting refused to give up.  Think about it.  Wars, battles, political issues, sports contests, personal victories over demons of all kinds…have only been won when the persons fighting them FLATLY REFUSED TO GIVE UP!  Yes, I know that’s a lot of caps.  Sorry.  Don’t mean to yell and rant and rave, but the thing is, nothing is ever gained by sitting down and refusing to keep trying.  That’s why the poem “Footprints in the sand” is famous, but nobody has ever shared a poem about “Butt prints in the sand,” right??

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So today is the day.  I’m getting back on track, I’m going to start making healthy choices every day.  Domino effect.  Our WW leader used to do this “object lesson” in which she gave us all a domino and reminded us that all it takes to stop a falling train of dominoes is a little pressure in the opposite direction.  Just a little support behind one domino anywhere in the chain, to stop it from falling, and the cycle ends.  So that’s it.  It’s Domino Day.  I’m starting over for the last time.  And I’m never, ever, EVER giving up.

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Until next time,

D.

 

Rambling Treatise on Hair and Fat and Aspiring to NOT Fear Them May 30, 2014

 

Hello all.  I’m just taking a moment to write here, because auditions for the summer musical are Monday and Tuesday night, and I’m the Stage Manager, and who knows when I’ll be able to write again?  I was thinking about nightmares.  The two things I remember dreaming about last night, I would classify as bad dreams, not necessarily nightmares.  But when I started thinking about them, I wondered WHY on earth I or anyone else would ever be afraid of, or have negative feelings about, these two things, but so many are and do!  It just got me into this deep, thoughtful, sort of reflective type of mood, and what a “fear” of these two things means for me and every other person (mostly women) in the world:  ‘hair’ and ‘fat.’

*

Now you’re probably wondering mostly about the first of these two words.  Here’s the backstory, the shocking confession:  I almost never remove the hair from my legs, by any method.  Rarely shave, or wax, or anything of the sort.  Yet they are virtually hair-free!  It’s either genetic, or I have some serious disease I don’t know about, or I never wear shorts, and my long pants somehow inhibit hair growth, or something.  I have a few little hairs here and there, but they are so light and thin and fine, I can barely even get hold of them with tweezers, which is how I usually remove them.    So what does this have to do with last night’s dreams?   Simple.  In my dream, I started growing hair on my legs and no matter how much I shaved, I always missed some, and what I DID manage to shave grew right back almost immediately.  That was upsetting and stressful to me in my dream.  When I woke up it just got me thinking about women and standards of beauty and how most women are always waxed, shaved, tweezed to the max, just to feel beautiful.  I think it’s sad.  Women, in the past, now, and always, have been subjected to absolutely unnatural standards of beauty and desirability.  Think of it! Corsets, foot-binding, bras, makeup, bikini wax!  Craziness, I tell you!

*

Like most people, I have been on both ends of the discussion.  I went to a makeup party the other night- one of those facial and makeup demo things, you know.  And everyone looked beautiful to me, without their makeup.  Stunning WITH makeup, of course.  But perfectly lovely and acceptable without it.  And I, as a non-wearer of makeup daily, was heartily encouraged to continue with the routine of the makeup that was applied to my face that night, because my face “looks so much brighter!”  And secondly I remember being shocked at the willingness to be seen in public of a lady I met at a writer’s group meeting a couple of weeks ago, who I SWEAR had a full beard and mustache, and I couldn’t believe she could go around outside her house like that.  I distinctly remember telling someone that night that if I ever got that low on hormones, I wanted someone to shoot me.  WHAT?!!  I’d rather be dead than have hair on my face?  A) There are several different solutions to this particular issue, and B) Something seriously wrong with my perspective here.

*

Anyway.  I don’t really have an answer for the problem.  I don’t expect women to suddenly stop shaving and wear no makeup ever, just in the interest of rebelling against cultural expectations and standards of beauty, except to tell women everyone to love who you are and what you look like and try to be as natural and real and authentic as possible, and if men, people, the world, don’t appreciate you exactly as you are, then pooh on them.  Who needs ’em?

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Which, of course, leads to the other dream, the topic of which is one I have struggled with my entire life and chronicled extensively throughout this blog, and that is fat.  Weight.  Weight LOSS.  All that stuff.  In this dream last night, I saw one of my old friends from high school.  She has been up and down on the weight loss journey all her life, just as I have, and in the last couple of years has been doing really well.  But the last time I talked to her, she mentioned how she had slacked off and lost some ground.  So in this dream, I saw her, and she was much bigger than she had ever been.  Bigger than at her heaviest.  I swear she was actually three feet wide.  And I saw her hips and her completely round face, and I felt fear.  Desperate fear that I am headed to that exact same place, because I was talking with another friend last night about binge eating and out-of-control-ness, and it is all just terrifying.

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And therein lies the biggest problem that I have with fat.  In this culture, in this country, people act like FAT is the absolute worst thing you can be.  Worse than a liar, worse than a cheat, worse than lazy, worse than stupid, worse than selfish, worse than anything I can think of.  People would rather be ANYTHING than fat.

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Ok, so it’s completely true that life, physical life, is easier at a normal weight.  Movie seats, airplane seats, tourist attractions, doctor’s office visits, medical procedures, shopping, self-care and grooming (like shaving, for example).  All of those are not things you really have to even give much thought to…when you’re not fat.  You live longer, have more options for entertainment, like chasing a ball with your kids or walking the stupid dog, you have more life when you’re not living it insulated.  And for the record, that insulation can come in other ways than fat, but that’s another post.

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My point is that…I don’t know what my point is.  I just know I have been dealing with the upsliding scale for weeks and months, and it puts me in a state of terror, and I hate that.  I guess I just need to work on the whole self-love thing no matter what my weight and appearance.  I need to work toward complete self-approval, BUT I also need to focus on health.  Just health.  Good food choices, good activity choices.  Remembering that the life I want to live is out of reach as long as I can’t easily reach my shoes.  That awareness has got to count for something, right?

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Thanks for joining me on this ramble.  Stay tuned for updates on my Stage Manager experience as it unfolds.

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Until next time,

D.

 

 

The Cork Must Blow Sometime March 18, 2013

Charleston and Old Customs House

Charleston and Old Customs House (Photo credit: Smudge 9000)

Hello all.  I haven’t written a serious/thoughtful/really good post here in too long to think about, but I don’t have one today either.  I just feel like writing.  Today is one of those days.  You know, the kind of day where if I really let myself, I could absolutely wallow in bad mood, feeling completely unsuccessful at every aspect of my life.  If you’ll bear with me, the top ten things on my mind today are as follows:

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1.  I am not relationshippy.  I don’t have friends, I don’t go out to dinner parties or play bridge or any of that stuff.  This is an aspect of my life that I’m pretty unhappy with at the moment, but I don’t know where to look to change it.  I can’t think of anybody in particular (who’s near me) that I really want to hang out with, who has the time or energy or desire.  And the whole dating thing?  My future in the world of romantic relationships?! Forget it.  In the dictionary under hopeless it says see that.  I know, that’s not true, I might find someone eventually.  But given the whole marriage/divorce/remarriage religious issue, and how I can’t seem to lay that to rest, I will probably be much happier if I just give up on the whole idea.

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2.  Someone here at work left a huge jar of peanut butter in there on the counter, and I have been fighting its siren song all day.  When I am bored/cranky/hormonal/ or otherwise in the negative, mood-wise, all I want to do is eat.  And boy, can I eat.  I basically polished off an entire package of Oreo cookies all by myself yesterday.  That ought to have a fabulous effect on my Weight Watchers, lemme tell ya.

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3.  And on that subject, I am so ready to quit.  I can be good(ish) during the week, but weekends kill me no matter what I do, and I am just really tired of the fight.  I am tired of the waste of $$.  There are probably twenty-dozen different websites and iPhone apps with which I could do what I do with WW, except that they’re free.  Wouldn’t you know, I arrive at this mental place only two weeks after I shelled out forty bucks plus five dollars a month for WW ActiveLink, which I think SUCKS, btw.  You don’t start earning activity points until you’ve hit your baseline for the day, and when you actually do a concentrated, serious workout, like, oh, say C25k, you only earn one or two points for it!  When before, alternating walking and jogging for half an hour and calculating it yourself would have netted you like, 5 points at least.

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4.  Which by the way leads me to this:  I HATE EXERCISE!  No, I really hate it.  I have been trying to do the #$@% C25k and I was supposed to start Week 3 Day 1 yesterday, but instead I decided there was no way on this planet that I would be able to pull off jogging for three solid minutes, and I stuck with Week 2 for a little longer.  And even at that, it was torturous.  I walked for two of the six run cycles.  My freakin’ knees hurt.  I am angry.  I can’t lose weight and get healthier without exercising, and I can’t exercise when my major weight-bearing joints hurt so bad I wanna cry.   AND… I don’t have anyone to work out with, and I’m embarrassed to drag my jiggly, wiggly, huffing and puffing, slow-crawl jogging body through my neighborhood streets.  The high school football field track would have been a good place to work out, but it was closed for some sort of repairs.  So yesterday after church I did my workout, knees and neighborhood and all, but all I felt when I got done was anger, and that’s when I ate the Oreos.  Completely counterproductive, yes?  (I know, I should just give up on C25k and look into a membership at the YMCA or some other place that has a pool and do something that is non-weight-bearing, but ugh.  Wetness and changing clothes and showers and lockers and excuses, excuses.)

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5.  I colored my hair yesterday and I look like the love child of Raggedy Ann and Ronald McDonald, with a little bit of Weird Al thrown in for good measure.  I need a good haircut, that’s all there is to that.

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6.  I keep wanting to plan all my activities and adventures and tours for my trip to Charleston in October, but it’s still a little too far away.  I don’t know what the schedule is for the conference, what other people are going to be doing that I might could join in and be included in, etc.  I have been looking at walking tours, plantation tours, etc., and I want to do them all, but I know there’s only so much time I will have, and I don’t know which ones will be best.  I am hoping that as it draws closer, I will hear more from the other participants about what exactly their plans are and how much time to I need to plan to spend on my own versus hanging out with them.

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7.  Which leads me to The Twitter Issue.  Although there is a Facebook group that hasn’t been active really, since the end of the last event, the organizers of the Charleston trip communicate mainly through Twitter.  The problem is that so far I have not, up until today, had a Twitter account, because I. Don’t. Get. It.  Seriously.  I don’t understand Twitter, I don’t wanna understand Twitter, I think Twitter is a little bit stupid.  Or maybe Twitter just makes me feel stupid.  But I signed up today, hoping to be able to keep up-to-date with the other attendees of The Blathering and maybe get to know some of them enough to plan to share some tours or activities.  I didn’t really want to have any presence on Twitter other than as needed to participate in The Blathering, so I think what I might do is just delete my account there (are these things ever really gone?) and become the person who brings the Fb group back to life.

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Ok, I guess there will be no 8-10.  Fortunately, I think my Rant-juice just ran out.  I know, you’re thinking “Thank God!” I just needed to vent, you know?  Frustration, aggravation, pain, boredom, loneliness, anticipation, all those things just sort of got thrown into the blender and needed to decorate the kitchen walls, right?

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So as I am prone to do, I will soldier on, keep plowing, etc.  I just took a deep breath, and I will be finishing my day here at work, heading home to see what the kids have been up to all day, (they assure me they have been doing the things I asked them to do, housework help-wise) and trying to find something for supper that won’t exacerbate the damage I did to my Weight Watchers over the weekend.  Meeting is tomorrow, you see.  Not particularly looking forward to it.  Last week I had done the C25k workout three days of the week, as instructed; I thought I had done ok on my eating, and yet I gained like 4lbs. I decided my body hates me and there is no rhyme or reason to anything.  Thanks again for listening, Innernetz.  I don’t know what I’d do without ya. 🙂

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Until next time,
D.

 

 
The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Shawn L. Bird

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