I have a lot of stuff going on now between work and family, but over all I'd say I'm doing a fairly decent job of handling it day to day. Only frustrating times are when it's a little more than normal, like say you hypothetically have an appointment at 1:30 and the person blows you off .... not saying it happened, but it could of happened. Okay, it happened.
After accepting the person was a no show, I felt really stressed and frustrated. Instantly my thoughts went to the leftover cake sitting on our treat table. Now for the most part, I'm not a cake person. I'm a frosting kind of girl, but I am to a place where quality matters.
This cake is decedent. Three layers of homemade banana cake, filled with walnuts, topped with clouds of cream cheese frosting, then liberally sprinkled with sweet, toasted coconut. It reminds me of a cake a long deceased aunt used to make. I had a small sliver this morning, because I didn't want to regret not at least enjoying a taste. The cake and I had an understanding, I'd try a morsel, it would stop calling my name. It was working.
Until ...
As the clock ticked by and the person was a no show, I felt my emotions changing. Annoyance, frustration, disappointment, then some anger. Once it was decided it wasn't happening today I left the meeting room and my very first thought was that cake.
Oh how I wished to grab it and stealthily make my way to a corner holding nothing but it and a fork. Spoon would be better, but I'd make do. I could already feel how each bite would make the emotions float away until they were just a slight memory.
Fortunately I expressed this thought to a coworker who said "NO!" This stopped me and made me ask "what's it gonna do for you??"
I walked to the cake, took a tiny sliver ... teeny tiny .... and I placed it in my palm. I admired it's goodness for a moment .... then I smooshed the daylights out of it, compressing it so hard in my hand that it ran through my fingers.
Now this ... this was stress relief with cake!!!
I mushed it, rolled it up, flattened it, rolled it some more, and ended up with a very greasy little ball. Rather gross actually, but I was able to look at it and think "better than on me!"
Smashing cake fixed my stress. Eating cake wouldn't have. Cake wouldn't make a person behave in a manner that I want them to behave. Cake wouldn't have made them timely, proper, intelligent, or anything else I needed.
H.U.G.H. victory!
One for the record books big!
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Just when you're ready to give up
My friends haven't really been able to help me, there's no place that I've been able to recharge myself, and even going to my meeting tonight didn't seem to help. I don't get in these moods very often, but when I do it's pretty bad.
I went into the grocery store to pick up something for dinner and I very much had a screw you I'm getting what I want for dinner kind of attitude.
As I walked around looking at different things I kept thinking that's not worth the points. And then this other little voice on my shoulder said what's it really worth to you?
I saw grapes for $.94 a pound so I picked up some of them and then I wandered over to the deli to get some low-sodium turkey. As I was asking for my turkey the young lady looked at me and said I know you, you've lost a lot of weight!
She completely caught me off guard. I stammered, I stumbled through my words and finally with tears forming in my eyes I told her thank you.
I told her I've been feeling very discouraged and ready to give up. I let her know that her words meant the world to me. She really didn't know how much those words were going to affect me when she said them, but I'm so thankful for them.
She smiled and shook her head. Why would you give up? Why would you be discouraged?!? You're doing so good!
I thanked her again and then made the fastest exit I could so she wouldn't see the tears rolling down my cheeks.
You never know who's going to be your next source of support. Sometimes it may come in the form of an angel at the deli counter.
The scale is not the judgement factor
The scale has not been kind to me lately, however it doesn't get to tell the whole story.
What is the factor I have to cling to today is that I am 1- wearing capris out of my "someday" drawer. It contains clothes that I picked up for next to nothing over the years thinking "hmm, maybe next _____ I will fit into these." This pair is so old I'm not sure what summer I'd hoped to wear them by, but 2015 works. 2- The belt is from my friend Megan, who shrank too much to wear it. It fits now and doesn't cut me in half when I sit down. 3- I HAVE MY SHIRT TUCKED IN.
Ok, need I say more?
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Returning to Weight Watchers
Returning to Weight Watchers ... I promised I'd continue that story. I remember going to the meeting, January 11, 2011 to be exact. I met the leader, she seemed spunky, and I felt good about it all.
Like most who are fresh and new on the program I did great for the first year. I kept creeping closer and closer to 50 pounds lost, but every time I would sabotage myself. It took a lot of work to move on, so much so that I didn't reach 50 pounds lost until this spring. That would be in April of 2015 for those keeping score.
I've had some interesting feedback over the years from people not a member. I've been asked why I'm still going, haven't I learned everything yet? I'm been commended for my commitment. Lots of things in between too. Some comments hit home and are carried and cherished, some roll off my back and I move on.
Why was this time different? For starters, my motivation for why I was going back was different. Last time I really lost weight I didn't do it for me. Now to someone who hasn't been through it, that might sound crazy, I mean, it's my weight, who else can it be for?
It was for my Mom, to try and make her proud of me. It was for the people who give you that look. You know that look, the one that is a combination of "dammmmmmmn" and "she'd be so pretty if she lost weight." It was to try and gain acceptance into a club that I thought would make life perfect. It was for a number on the scale, one that started with 1, not a 2 or 3. It was about the size of my shirt, my pants, my anything.
It was about everything but me. I was lost in all that. Plus it was a horrible effort to maintain that insanity.
This time I made myself one little (big) promise - this time it was for me and no one else mattered. Now this was an easier promise to make than to keep and it's one that has taken an exceptional amount of work, but now that the foundation is down, it's easier to build on.
Doing this for me doesn't mean I am doing it alone, but it means that I prioritized myself to come first. It also means that I count on myself to make me do what needs to be done. No one can make you lose weight. Counting on someone to make you exercise or make you go to WW or make you count calories doesn't work. It doesn't mean you have bad people in your life, it just means that relying on them steals power from yourself. For me it has been learning that all this [frantic random waving at invisible things] doesn't get to stop my journey. All of the external forces don't get to become my excuse either.
Even though I proudly proclaim this is my journey, I'm far from alone on the road. I have a lot of wonderful people who support me and are there for me. I've been so fortunate to cultivate a wonderful crop of people who are there when I need them. What I had to learn is that as much as they love and support me, unless they are going to follow me around and smack the food out of my mouth, it's still up to me.
Accepting that this is my process has made a huge difference this time. I don't need to prove myself to anyone. I don't feel a need to gain any one's approval. While I do love the positive comments and love hearing them, it's not what it's all about. I think this time with my friends it's more about sharing the accomplishments we've all met than seeking the acknowledgement.
By saying it's all about me, it seems to simplify things doesn't it? I mean, I've just eliminated all the external forces of doom and failure, but in reality it's nothing like that. It's about learning what issues are mine, what issues are others, and what needs attention. I'm not bullet proof from criticism or harsh words. They still can hurt, but they don't get to carry more weight than the good comments. They no longer get to linger either. I don't get to turn those words against myself, using them as an excuse on why I can't get healthy, can't lose the weight, can't dream big.
One of the hardest parts of my journey is learning to use one little word: HELP.
Learning to use it has helped me figure out how to help myself and that's what has saved me. I'm not asking someone to force me into behaviors as much as show me ways to steer myself. I'm not dependent on my leader, my supporters, etc. to do the work, but I can depend on them when my boat's rocking and I need someone to steady it. I have wonderful people that I can say "today I feel like I want to eat an entire pizza and a pound of M&M's!" and they help me figure out the why and what of the situation.
Being able to seek help is a huge step for me. I'm stubborn, I don't like to admit I need help some times. I used to worry about feeling silly, stupid, and weak by asking. At some point in all the mental work I've been doing my thought patterns changed and I realized that asking for the help and support when you need it is taking care of yourself. Opening yourself up and saying "I need assistance" makes you vulnerable and strong all at the same time. If you've put the work in, being good support for others, then they can return it to you. I'm blessed that I have people that I can truly pour it out to and they help me work it out. If they don't have an answer, that's OK too, but every time you ask and expose yourself you gain a little strength. That strength matters. That strength carries you and you need it, because this is forever ....
Like most who are fresh and new on the program I did great for the first year. I kept creeping closer and closer to 50 pounds lost, but every time I would sabotage myself. It took a lot of work to move on, so much so that I didn't reach 50 pounds lost until this spring. That would be in April of 2015 for those keeping score.
I've had some interesting feedback over the years from people not a member. I've been asked why I'm still going, haven't I learned everything yet? I'm been commended for my commitment. Lots of things in between too. Some comments hit home and are carried and cherished, some roll off my back and I move on.
Why was this time different? For starters, my motivation for why I was going back was different. Last time I really lost weight I didn't do it for me. Now to someone who hasn't been through it, that might sound crazy, I mean, it's my weight, who else can it be for?
It was for my Mom, to try and make her proud of me. It was for the people who give you that look. You know that look, the one that is a combination of "dammmmmmmn" and "she'd be so pretty if she lost weight." It was to try and gain acceptance into a club that I thought would make life perfect. It was for a number on the scale, one that started with 1, not a 2 or 3. It was about the size of my shirt, my pants, my anything.
It was about everything but me. I was lost in all that. Plus it was a horrible effort to maintain that insanity.
This time I made myself one little (big) promise - this time it was for me and no one else mattered. Now this was an easier promise to make than to keep and it's one that has taken an exceptional amount of work, but now that the foundation is down, it's easier to build on.
Doing this for me doesn't mean I am doing it alone, but it means that I prioritized myself to come first. It also means that I count on myself to make me do what needs to be done. No one can make you lose weight. Counting on someone to make you exercise or make you go to WW or make you count calories doesn't work. It doesn't mean you have bad people in your life, it just means that relying on them steals power from yourself. For me it has been learning that all this [frantic random waving at invisible things] doesn't get to stop my journey. All of the external forces don't get to become my excuse either.
Even though I proudly proclaim this is my journey, I'm far from alone on the road. I have a lot of wonderful people who support me and are there for me. I've been so fortunate to cultivate a wonderful crop of people who are there when I need them. What I had to learn is that as much as they love and support me, unless they are going to follow me around and smack the food out of my mouth, it's still up to me.
Accepting that this is my process has made a huge difference this time. I don't need to prove myself to anyone. I don't feel a need to gain any one's approval. While I do love the positive comments and love hearing them, it's not what it's all about. I think this time with my friends it's more about sharing the accomplishments we've all met than seeking the acknowledgement.
By saying it's all about me, it seems to simplify things doesn't it? I mean, I've just eliminated all the external forces of doom and failure, but in reality it's nothing like that. It's about learning what issues are mine, what issues are others, and what needs attention. I'm not bullet proof from criticism or harsh words. They still can hurt, but they don't get to carry more weight than the good comments. They no longer get to linger either. I don't get to turn those words against myself, using them as an excuse on why I can't get healthy, can't lose the weight, can't dream big.
One of the hardest parts of my journey is learning to use one little word: HELP.
Learning to use it has helped me figure out how to help myself and that's what has saved me. I'm not asking someone to force me into behaviors as much as show me ways to steer myself. I'm not dependent on my leader, my supporters, etc. to do the work, but I can depend on them when my boat's rocking and I need someone to steady it. I have wonderful people that I can say "today I feel like I want to eat an entire pizza and a pound of M&M's!" and they help me figure out the why and what of the situation.
Being able to seek help is a huge step for me. I'm stubborn, I don't like to admit I need help some times. I used to worry about feeling silly, stupid, and weak by asking. At some point in all the mental work I've been doing my thought patterns changed and I realized that asking for the help and support when you need it is taking care of yourself. Opening yourself up and saying "I need assistance" makes you vulnerable and strong all at the same time. If you've put the work in, being good support for others, then they can return it to you. I'm blessed that I have people that I can truly pour it out to and they help me work it out. If they don't have an answer, that's OK too, but every time you ask and expose yourself you gain a little strength. That strength matters. That strength carries you and you need it, because this is forever ....
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
So there comes a time ...
To share or not to share, that is the question. While I'm writing this mainly for myself, I can freely admit I want an audience. I'm definitely not a shrinking violet. Wait, I am the shrinking part, so perhaps another term - I'm not a wallflower.
Sharing though is scary. I mean, I am contemplating letting everyone in the free world read this! Then again I'm assuming a lot in thinking anyone will read it.
What will others think? What will the comments be? Oh the uncertainty of it all!!!!
So why share? One of the biggest struggles for me for a long time was thinking I was the only one who had my thoughts about weight loss, the process, and the obstacles. It wasn't until I really started to open up at my WW meetings that I found out that I was far from unique. I mean, so far from it that I was common in my thoughts.
I'm different than everyone else in the world! For a long time that was a mantra, but after a while I realized it was just another excuse for not trying. Yes, we are all different, but let's face it, a hurdle is a hurdle is a hurdle. Some can be real, some can be made up, and some just need to be looked at in a new way.
Being handicapped is the most awesome reason in the world that I couldn't be fit! I can't work out. Ha ha ha, that one worked for a long time. You know, until the day I realized that physical therapy is just scheduled exercise.
It took me seven years to be strong enough to stop using my wheelchair. Seven years of fighting. Sure, I threw fits and gave up a lot, but I never, ever quit. Seven years is a long time folks. It was worth it though.
My attitude with walking again was "who says I can't?!?!?" and I fully embraced that stubbornness. It just took me a very long time to translate that into taking my health, fitness and weight into my own hands. Actually that is an ongoing battle, but again, never, ever quit right?
I try to keep the attitude that I will give what I can a try. Yes, there are things that I can rule out even trying. I cannot do burpees. I know, lucky aren't I? It is a physical impossibility. Know what though? I have learned over time about 50 things that I can only guess are equally, if not more evil than burpees.
Listing everything you can't do doesn't help you get any where. Just gives you one really depressing list. Instead start with just thinking "I can make changes!" One change, one step, one move closer to where you dream to be.
Sharing though is scary. I mean, I am contemplating letting everyone in the free world read this! Then again I'm assuming a lot in thinking anyone will read it.
What will others think? What will the comments be? Oh the uncertainty of it all!!!!
So why share? One of the biggest struggles for me for a long time was thinking I was the only one who had my thoughts about weight loss, the process, and the obstacles. It wasn't until I really started to open up at my WW meetings that I found out that I was far from unique. I mean, so far from it that I was common in my thoughts.
I'm different than everyone else in the world! For a long time that was a mantra, but after a while I realized it was just another excuse for not trying. Yes, we are all different, but let's face it, a hurdle is a hurdle is a hurdle. Some can be real, some can be made up, and some just need to be looked at in a new way.
Being handicapped is the most awesome reason in the world that I couldn't be fit! I can't work out. Ha ha ha, that one worked for a long time. You know, until the day I realized that physical therapy is just scheduled exercise.
- ab/core work - check
- balance - check
- endurance - check
- body weight exercises - check
- stretchy bands - check
- exercise/therapy ball - check
- weights - check
It took me seven years to be strong enough to stop using my wheelchair. Seven years of fighting. Sure, I threw fits and gave up a lot, but I never, ever quit. Seven years is a long time folks. It was worth it though.
My attitude with walking again was "who says I can't?!?!?" and I fully embraced that stubbornness. It just took me a very long time to translate that into taking my health, fitness and weight into my own hands. Actually that is an ongoing battle, but again, never, ever quit right?
I try to keep the attitude that I will give what I can a try. Yes, there are things that I can rule out even trying. I cannot do burpees. I know, lucky aren't I? It is a physical impossibility. Know what though? I have learned over time about 50 things that I can only guess are equally, if not more evil than burpees.
Listing everything you can't do doesn't help you get any where. Just gives you one really depressing list. Instead start with just thinking "I can make changes!" One change, one step, one move closer to where you dream to be.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Just like the old days
I mentioned a car crash earlier. It was a doozy.
The little red star is the headrest and kind of shows the predicament I was in.
I was out line dancing that night. My coworkers finally convinced me to go. See, I hated country music so this took effort! I loved to dance though so that win over my dislike for the music. (We'll get to that change later!)
After a fun night of dancing, I was headed home when a car swerved in my lane with no time to react. Just like that I went from dancing to a trama fight to a wheelchair. Amazing how fast life can change.
Ironically I was hit by a country line dance instructor. He wasn't from the club I was at, which would have been nice since we wouldn't have been traveling in opposite directions.
With a screwed up left arm and both legs broken my dancing days were a thing of the past. Heck, for a while I thought my walking days were over.
To shorten a story that spans a couple decades I will bring you up to the last year.
A couple wonderful friends at Weight Watchers spent a long time trying to get me to join them at a 7 a.m. Aqua Zumba class Saturday morning. There were a lot of strikes against it. The time, the day, and most of all the dancing.
I resisted for well over a year. Stubbornness is part of my heritage on both sides of the family. It wasn't a matter of the time really. I am at work by 7 so I'm used to being up. It wasn't the trauma of wearing a swimsuit, although finding one was a challenge. It was fear though. Fear that I'd find out I really couldn't dance. I'd done a little awkward and unbalanced swaying at a wedding here and there, terrified of falling with every step, but tried to really dance? Nope. Why would someone who loved dancing not try?!?
Because if I tried and I couldn't, it would be something I truly lost. If you don't try, you don't fail, and sometimes that's easier, at least you think so in your head. Mostly it's because your heart longs for it, but you aren't sure what accepting the cold hard truth will do to you. For me it would be the final straw so to speak. It would be yet another thing I couldn't do, one that I loved to boot.
I was terrified that first time. Barely slept the night before. Then I got in the water. I'd like to say I was brilliant, like a water ballet, but I was slow, winded, and always a good 15-20 seconds behind the instructor. It wasn't pretty, but it was awesome!
Last night, as we headed to the dance floor I had that moment of fear. But then I danced. First just slow songs, but then we went out for some faster ones. One led to another, then another, songs too much fun to sit out.
I twirled, I shimmied, I moved to the beat.
I danced.
Fear of failure held me back on one level, but pushed me on in others. I was afraid, but I never gave up dreaming of dancing again.
It took over 21 years, but it was worth it! Oh how it was worth it!
*here's my disclaimer. I'm not a dancer in any sort of professional or even amateur way. I'm just someone who always loved to dance. Grew up listening to music and dancing around with friends. But that is the criteria I use to call what I do "dancing."
Thursday, June 4, 2015
One more day ....
OK, this is major progress, I'm writing two days in a row! Yeah me! No, I don't get to buy myself a treat for blogging. Blogging is the treat!
So how did I get here? Where is here? How did I come from there? Wait, where is there??? I believe we refer to that as our history. I can do the long version, the short version (but that might leave you horribly confused) or just see what comes out.
At one point in time I was a stick. Teeny, tiny little girl with more bones jutting out than meat on my bones. I can still remember my first grade teacher, Mrs. Foster, saying to me when school was getting out for the summer "Karen, don't be like the rest of your family."
Now I was in first grade, so needless to say that statement confused me to no end. I was too embarrassed to ask for further explanation, so I nodded my head and said I wouldn't. That boys and girls was the last day I was at a normal weight. I swear. Cross my heart!
Between that day and the day I decided to do something, then giving up, then starting again a whole lot has happened. I gained. And gained. Then lost a lot. Then started over again. Sounds familiar doesn't it? Well, if you happen to be someone with extra weight. Then again, maybe my 100 pounds is as frustrating as someone else's 3. I don't know, ask me when I'm bitching about losing the last 3 pounds.
Last time I really lost weight I lost big. 189 pounds to be completely accurate. I also lost my social life and I lost my ability to eat something and enjoy it. The number on the scale was the be all, end all of my world. Someone once looked at a picture of me at my smallest and said "body is fine, but your eyes look dead." How accurate that was!
I was really wrapped up in what the world and the people around me thought of me. Not because I was narcissistic, but because it was truly a worry and I cared. My fears were confirmed when I started to regain. A librarian actually looked at me one day, tsk-tsked me, and said it was a shame. I was devastated and my self worth hit an all time low.
I gave up for a long time after that. I knew I was gaining. That was easy to see in the piles of clothes that no longer fit. Not just tight, but "damn, why won't this pass my thighs??" tight.
Over ten years later a friend said she was thinking of going back to Weight Watchers. I told her it sounded good for her and when I mentioned it to Michael (the boyfriend/significant other/might as well be spouse/common law husband if we lived in the right state) he said he thought it was a good idea .... for me.
Now Michael has never said anything about my weight. Loves me just as I am, so from him this was stunning. I almost felt slapped. I think he saw it in my face because it was at that point that he told me he wants me to be healthy and happier, and I'm happier when I'm more fit.
So once again I found my way into a Weight Watchers meeting. Now the fun really began!
... to be continued
So how did I get here? Where is here? How did I come from there? Wait, where is there??? I believe we refer to that as our history. I can do the long version, the short version (but that might leave you horribly confused) or just see what comes out.
At one point in time I was a stick. Teeny, tiny little girl with more bones jutting out than meat on my bones. I can still remember my first grade teacher, Mrs. Foster, saying to me when school was getting out for the summer "Karen, don't be like the rest of your family."
Now I was in first grade, so needless to say that statement confused me to no end. I was too embarrassed to ask for further explanation, so I nodded my head and said I wouldn't. That boys and girls was the last day I was at a normal weight. I swear. Cross my heart!
Between that day and the day I decided to do something, then giving up, then starting again a whole lot has happened. I gained. And gained. Then lost a lot. Then started over again. Sounds familiar doesn't it? Well, if you happen to be someone with extra weight. Then again, maybe my 100 pounds is as frustrating as someone else's 3. I don't know, ask me when I'm bitching about losing the last 3 pounds.
Last time I really lost weight I lost big. 189 pounds to be completely accurate. I also lost my social life and I lost my ability to eat something and enjoy it. The number on the scale was the be all, end all of my world. Someone once looked at a picture of me at my smallest and said "body is fine, but your eyes look dead." How accurate that was!
I was really wrapped up in what the world and the people around me thought of me. Not because I was narcissistic, but because it was truly a worry and I cared. My fears were confirmed when I started to regain. A librarian actually looked at me one day, tsk-tsked me, and said it was a shame. I was devastated and my self worth hit an all time low.
I gave up for a long time after that. I knew I was gaining. That was easy to see in the piles of clothes that no longer fit. Not just tight, but "damn, why won't this pass my thighs??" tight.
Over ten years later a friend said she was thinking of going back to Weight Watchers. I told her it sounded good for her and when I mentioned it to Michael (the boyfriend/significant other/might as well be spouse/common law husband if we lived in the right state) he said he thought it was a good idea .... for me.
Now Michael has never said anything about my weight. Loves me just as I am, so from him this was stunning. I almost felt slapped. I think he saw it in my face because it was at that point that he told me he wants me to be healthy and happier, and I'm happier when I'm more fit.
So once again I found my way into a Weight Watchers meeting. Now the fun really began!
... to be continued
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
So it begins ....
I keep thinking, "Karen, you should start a blog" and then I start, get hung up on what to name it, give up and repeat the process a few years later.
I've had several blogs and I'm fine that they are now dead. Some things are better left alone, much like black mold and hornets' nests.
Titles I've played with but abandoned are "Long Way Home" and "It's my life!" Google made me aware that the first title is a song and the second, the vocal Bon Jovi anthem is on rotation for my listening pleasure at the gym.
So why Believe impossible things? Many reasons really. To give a little background, the lyric is from a Brad Paisley song, "American Flag on the Moon" and I love the message he conveys.
Some day I will get into my background more, but I am the survivor of a head on collision. A guy fell asleep at the wheel and hit me, crushing my car and me. Two broken legs, left arm mangled, but despite the odds I lived and 20+ years later continue to live. Well, I'm trying to live any how, but I still have a whole lot to learn.
The crash is mostly relevant because it is a defining part of my life, one that can be used for or against me. By law I am "handicapped" and am protected by the amazing rights of the Americans with Disabilities Act. How this translates to the real world has pretty much been defined by me. To some it means I get the "good parking" and either think it's cool or unfair. To me it means I can shop in semi-bad weather and I'm close to the door if I hurt myself in a store, but am still able to limp out. Having this privilege is a blessing, but so far I haven't met many people who are willing to become qualified for it. (Trust me, I've offered to help the most obnoxious of those who have issue with my parking!)
My physical issues do become a valid reason for some things. I can't plank in a traditional way because my left arm is 'special' (pat pat pat) in that it doesn't have an elbow joint, but has a non-union site that has adapted to become an elbow. He (yep he) is known as Lefty and some day he'll have his full story told, maybe even with video if I can figure that out. In other ways it doesn't because I was told I was DOA when the first responder showed up and I calmly asked him not to call me that. That was the first of "things you're not" and by far not the last. Not suppose to walk, not suppose to dance, not suppose to have any life at all what so ever (and that wasn't even crash related!)
In a way my life has always been about defying the odds or succeeding despite. Of course there has been giant amounts of failures and mistakes in there too. Come on people, I am human even though I answer to SuperGimp! (dun dun duunnnn!)
I'm the fourth child, only girl, and not only was being a girl a surprise, apparently the whole having another baby was a surprise. I found out in the last year that I am the oops baby in my family, even though my oldest brother was 14 when I was born. Finding out you are the oops at 46 is quite funny and slightly awkward. Still I was proud to take the title away from sibling #3.
Currently I am 46. My older brothers are 60, 59 & 50. Needless to say, you can figure out with that math why sibling #3 thought he was the surprise. No, I was the anniversary celebration and Mom said she told my Dad that the next anniversary she'd just prefer a normal present.
Some point in time I got fat. Not just chunky, fluffy, or overweight. FAT. I got fat. I have fat, but fat doesn't define who I am. Defining who I am is a whole other page yet to come.
At any rate I want to welcome you to my world. Please fasten your seat belt and keep all limbs inside the car. Have a safe ride!
I've had several blogs and I'm fine that they are now dead. Some things are better left alone, much like black mold and hornets' nests.
Titles I've played with but abandoned are "Long Way Home" and "It's my life!" Google made me aware that the first title is a song and the second, the vocal Bon Jovi anthem is on rotation for my listening pleasure at the gym.
So why Believe impossible things? Many reasons really. To give a little background, the lyric is from a Brad Paisley song, "American Flag on the Moon" and I love the message he conveys.
Tonight I dare you to dream
Go on believe impossible things
Whenever anybody says
There’s anything we can’t do
I mean after all
There’s an American flag on the moon
The crash is mostly relevant because it is a defining part of my life, one that can be used for or against me. By law I am "handicapped" and am protected by the amazing rights of the Americans with Disabilities Act. How this translates to the real world has pretty much been defined by me. To some it means I get the "good parking" and either think it's cool or unfair. To me it means I can shop in semi-bad weather and I'm close to the door if I hurt myself in a store, but am still able to limp out. Having this privilege is a blessing, but so far I haven't met many people who are willing to become qualified for it. (Trust me, I've offered to help the most obnoxious of those who have issue with my parking!)
My physical issues do become a valid reason for some things. I can't plank in a traditional way because my left arm is 'special' (pat pat pat) in that it doesn't have an elbow joint, but has a non-union site that has adapted to become an elbow. He (yep he) is known as Lefty and some day he'll have his full story told, maybe even with video if I can figure that out. In other ways it doesn't because I was told I was DOA when the first responder showed up and I calmly asked him not to call me that. That was the first of "things you're not" and by far not the last. Not suppose to walk, not suppose to dance, not suppose to have any life at all what so ever (and that wasn't even crash related!)
In a way my life has always been about defying the odds or succeeding despite. Of course there has been giant amounts of failures and mistakes in there too. Come on people, I am human even though I answer to SuperGimp! (dun dun duunnnn!)
I'm the fourth child, only girl, and not only was being a girl a surprise, apparently the whole having another baby was a surprise. I found out in the last year that I am the oops baby in my family, even though my oldest brother was 14 when I was born. Finding out you are the oops at 46 is quite funny and slightly awkward. Still I was proud to take the title away from sibling #3.
Currently I am 46. My older brothers are 60, 59 & 50. Needless to say, you can figure out with that math why sibling #3 thought he was the surprise. No, I was the anniversary celebration and Mom said she told my Dad that the next anniversary she'd just prefer a normal present.
Some point in time I got fat. Not just chunky, fluffy, or overweight. FAT. I got fat. I have fat, but fat doesn't define who I am. Defining who I am is a whole other page yet to come.
At any rate I want to welcome you to my world. Please fasten your seat belt and keep all limbs inside the car. Have a safe ride!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)