?self defensive sense of self?

Here I am with no glow effect,

no soft focus,
no color adjustment,
no nothing!
Just the pic as it was originally taken.

A new online friend and devoted reader, ifitistobe (it is up to me) left me a comment the other day that made me think. She talked about having a "defensive sense of loving (her) self" when she was close to 300 pounds. She said she had a "so what" and I'll-love-me-as-I-am kind of attitude.

Then her attitude changed as she began to take care of herself by exercising, eating better and being more honest about what she believed she had to do to be evolve into a healthier person.

Steps in a journey, she said.

I totally understand.

I too was a defensive, screw you, love my fat ass or I'll love it for myself, defensive, angry, fat-activist when I was waddling around at 400ish.

I've changed.
Not only have I lost weight (I'm in the neighborhood of 240)
I've changed my attitude.

BUT and who doesn't, didn't, willn't love a big ol' butt...
I don't regret feeling the way I did.

Steps in a journey, she said.
Every attitude, every behavioral change, every thought change,
was a way to take a step.

When we've reached the top of the landing do we regret the bottom stair?

When we've crossed the finish line do we despise the first five minutes of the marathon?

Should a teenager look at pictures of herself as a toddler falling on her diapered butt and call herself clumsy?

No.
Of course not.

I'm here today because I was where I was yesterday and the day before and the day before.
I was fighting the good fight to learn to love myself.
I knew I had to love myself as much as I was loving others and I took the necessary steps beginning with an attitude change.

Maybe defensive, grudgey and angry but that's the attitude I needed to muster some self-love.
If I HADN'T loved myself, fat as I was, I would never have found a way to get better.
I never would have found my way here.
I would never have worked so hard to take off 130 pounds if it weren't for my screw-you attitude.
Sure my self-love began defensively.
If I hadn't started that way the self-loathing would have smothered me to death, and I mean death.

Before I could save myself I had to believe I was worth saving.
Believing I was worth saving started with a defiant love-me-as-I-am attitude.

Was I defying the world?
Partly.
Was I defying myself?
Partly.

The world, society, our youth-centric, fat-hating consumer culture says NO FAT CHICKS and makes us feel like deformed, unlovable mutants for being larger than say, oh, a hyper-active 10 year old boy.

We learn to feel inadequate.
We internalize this big body hatred and treat ourselves like crap.

In order to radically change that we need to defy the world and defy our own inner monologue so we can create some healthy self lovin' mc lovin.

Screw you world! We needed to say.
Screw you voice in my head that says mean things to me!

Sure it comes off as angry and defensive.
It IS angry and defensive.
It needs to be.
The same way a golf club needs to be swung in a high arc to hammer a nice long drive.
The swing, the arc creates the force to whack the ball.
The anger and defiance gives us the force to whack our bad attitude and make a drastic change.

It allllllllllllll relates.
It's allllllllllll good.

130 pounds and a whole lotta life lessons later,
I have less of an angry defiant attitude.
Less of an angry arc is necessary to putt the ball into the hole.
Compassion, understanding, patience and healthy self respect require less force but more focus.

As ifitistobe said, "...it is easier to love myself when I know that I am acting lovingly towards myself on a daily basis, by feeding my body right, working it out, pushing it 2 healthier limits, feeding my mind good thoughts, dressing nice, resting when I need to..."

Yeah.
Good thoughts.
Dressing nice.
Putt that ball into the hole.
Breathe,
focus,
tap.

Life isn't a series of hard-whacked holes in one (and no I don't golf....lol).
It's a meandering course full of grasses and sandtraps and challenges.
We need different clubs for different challenges.
Our attitudes will change as necessary.

Caddy!
Give me the right attitude to putt my ass into shape today!

Happy New Year!

x0x0x0x0x0

*Movement for Motivation*
We have no excuse.
She's 77 years old!!!
Lister to her...wise woman...black belt.
Q: How do you spot a black belt in a crowd?
A: She moves with grace and confidence, like a marine on roller skates!
Click here or click below...

pick a void, any void

"...anyway this cake is great,
it's so delicious and moist
look at me still talking,
when there's science to do...
I've experiments to run,
there is research to be done
on the people who are still alive..."
~ from the song, "Still Alive" by Jonathan Coulton,
vocals by Ellen McLain,
that accompanies the end credits of Portal

Is it always emotional eating?
A lovely online friend and fan of Susan Powter talked to me about binge eating. She said she craves certain foods like fried chicken, turkey and gravy, pizza and brie cheese, that she believes she overeats by example from her mother who overate every night, and that she's not sure she's a typical emotional eater.

She asked me, "Do you think its really always based on emotional void?"

What do I think?
I think...
There are many reasons we overeat, many contributing factors to our binge eating behavior.
Some are emotional
or
physical
or
spiritual
or
behavioral.

Some reasons are stronger or more persistent, habitually ingrained than others.

Some are part of our homesickness for connection.
Some are based on biological needs.

So many, many reasons.

When it came time to begin healing, I picked the reasons I'm most willing (able) to work on and went from there.

Disordered eating manifests for many reasons, but I can say from experience that none of them have much to do with actually enjoying food.

When we enjoy food we savor it, we appreciate the smell, taste and texture.
We take our time.
We don't rush, gush or overdo it because it would interfere with the experience.

Notice how wine connoisseurs don't swallow the wine.
They're busy breathing it in, swirling it around their mouths, looking at its color, really experiencing it.
Then they spit it out.

Too much intake means less enjoyment for wine AND food.

Binge eating for me was more about feeling overfull, weighted down and stuffed than about actually enjoying myself.

Did I prefer certain foods over others?
Sure!
I had my favorites.
Heavy, starchy, carby things.
Fatty, meaty, salty things.
Sweet, crunchy, textury things.

Doing research on myself, doing tons of reading on the topic and completely changing my intake led me to some interesting information on why certain foods seem to satisfy more than others when it comes to binge eating.

Read up on food allergies and candida albicans and you'll see how much of what we crave has to do with imbalance in our system. Not only are we feeding the imbalance to try to re-balance ourselves, we often times crave the very foods that hurt us most. We crave what we're allergic too. We crave what will feed the yeast (candida in our guts).

Emotional "void" may not always be the culprit.
Too much emotion, unmanaged stress or anxiety can also make us overeat.

Food is a way to cope with hunger, with nerves, with the need to have alone-time, with the need to feel fed and well taken care of, with the need to feel pleasure, the need for company, the need for the familiar, the need to experience oral satisfaction.

I still overeat sometimes.
Last night I ate almost a whole box of Smart Start cereal.
Very sweet.
Great texture.
Goes down easy.
It's what post-ops refer to as "slider foods" because they pass from the small stomach into the intestines quickly.

Was I anxious? needy? greedy? crave-y?
Horny? sad? tired?
Succumbing to old habits?
Filling an emotional need?
Anemic after my period and desperately in need of sustenance?

Yes, no, maybe and all of the above.

I'll probably avoid buying cereal for a while if it's going to be a binge-y temptation.
Better to satisfy the cravings with better food choices.

But what about uncovering the need to overeat?
I'm not sure I'll ever be so whole, balanced, evolved and calm that I won't ever binge eat again.

I'm not sure I ever have to be perfected that way.

What I am sure of is that I can get better.
Better choices lead to better health.
Better health leads to greater satisfaction in life.

Binge eating is a behavior that indicates a need.
Binge eating is probably not the best way to fill that need, no matter what that need is;
a longing for love,
a longing for affection,
the body's need for nutrition,
a behavioral pattern learned in childhood that looks to be repeated....it's not something that's solved once and for all.

It's semi-solved one choice at a time.
One forgiving, nonjudgmental act of self-caring at a time
and yes, sometimes that act of self-caring may involve eating a bit too much food.

I'll just be mindful of the types of food I have at hand.
I'll continue to be mindful of my various, complex and perfectly understandable needs.
I may never be able to fully understand the reasons for my behavior.
I'm not even sure I have to.

I just need to take care of myself
with
love.

*Movement for Motivation*
This girl is so frikken awesome I can't even stand it!!
She's not a skinny minny either. She's thick and sturdy.
You may want to turn down the sound, though.
The death metal is a bit much.
Her work out is do-able!
Take some of those moves and shake it, baby!
Click here or click below...

Oh vanity

December 28th Girls' Night Out at Giorgio's

Geri and me are not quite cougars, yet!

Ok, maybe with the reading glasses we are.

Marre and me still scarin' people away with our doubled over laughter.

Beautiful Laura Shapiro and me.

MILF Mary Anne and MILF to be Angela!

Jodie Foster and me.....nah, it's Lily!

Couldn't darken this one but I still love it.
(Thanks to hostess extraordinaire, photographer and stylist, Geri Reno).

The cake is a lie!

Yesterday I came up with some pretty compelling reasons to honor my movement commitment.
And they're good ones.
Convincing.
Motivating.
BUT...and everyone likes a big butt....
the main motivation,
the one that has the most power to move me off my ass
is the way I look in pictures.
I'm vain.
I want to look thinner.
I want my face to be more defined.
I believe that losing weight will make me prettier.

So sue me.

sigh

Part of me wants to roll with it, to move and want to get smaller and prettier without feeling BAD about wanting to be smaller and feel prettier.

Part of me wants to learn to love and accept myself exactly as I am, to stop worrying so much about my appearance and to be ok with what I see in pictures.

I'll just have to find a way to do both.
Both and each.

Love me where I'm at
and
want to look better
be more confident
look "better" in clothes
and be smaller.

I'm convinced that I'll be more likable, lovable, hire-able if I lose more weight and get the reconstructive surgery.
Likable by others, lovable by others, hire-able by others.

But is it really about what OTHER people think of me?
Mmmmm, yeah, kinda but then again, no.

Digging more deeply into my desire for change I find my own opinion of myself dictating how others react to me.
So, part of me is right.
If I could love myself exactly as I am I could project that assurance and confidence to others.
I could be the example of how others should love and accept me.
But since I DON'T feel assured and confident exactly as I am, it's no wonder that others' opinions of me aren't exactly what I wish they were....(although from what I hear, other people have a much higher opinion of me than I give them credit for).

In other words, I COULD be likable, lovable, hire-ble right now exactly as I am, with the world falling at my feet, if only I could accept myself exactly as I am.
It's not that I HAVE to change in order to be likable, lovable, hire-ble it's that I BELIEVE I have to change in order to be likable, lovable and hire-able.

So what do I do?
Change my self perception or change my self?

Love myself where I'm at and learn to be confident just as I am or
improve myself to match my ridiculously high standards?

How about a third option?
A little o' this
a little o' that
love myself where I'm at
AND
continue striving for an ideal (and ideal that I will leave open to change as I change my ideas of what I have to be in order to be happy).

I'm vain.
I want to look better.

I'm a goddess.
I look great exactly as I am.

Vain.
Goddess.

Improve.
Love.

"...it's hard to overstate my satisfaction..."

*Movement for Motivation*
Yep, that's a chick.
Don't f**k with her.
Click here or click below....

Solve for 'why'

Bottom left: Cousin Jade; Bottom right: Cousin Ashley;
and Maria and me behind them!

Just in case you were thinking I'm disciplined let me confess that I just wasted 2 whole hours looking at Bumper Stickers on Facebook.
And sending them.
And arranging them.

Two f***ing hours!

That's a lot of time.
But you know me with my "nothing is all good and nothing is all bad" point of view.
Can't say the morning was a total loss (and I AM blogging :-)

I DID wake up and do yoga stretches and kickboxing drills before sitting my ass at the computer.
Stretch, punch, kick, bend, punch, stretch...then Facebook...lol.

Moving and sitting.

sigh

Time to reformulate my big fat WHY for the New Year.

Why is it that I exercise?
walk?
workout?

I could give the easy, broad answer: to be healthier.
But that's too easy, too broad.
It doesn't exactly entice me to get up and shake it, ya know?

Sitting on the couch or sitting at the computer,
and think
"I want to be healthier!"
then get up and move?

No.
Not quite.

How about wanting to feel better?
Closer.
But I need to be more specific.

Moving makes the pains go away.

Ah, now that's enticing.
I DO want to be in less pain.

Walking makes me stronger so I'm able to do everyday things more easily.

Yes.
Making things easy is very enticing.
A few minutes of effort for a lifetime of ease.
Good trade off.

Keeping a daily movement commitment means I have one less thing to worry about. The weight loss takes care of itself if I keep my 20 minute daily commitment. Every time I look in the mirror and want to change I can feel assured that I am doing something to make that change happen.

Now you're talkin'.
I like that.
I LOVE that.
I like feeling reassured that I'm moving in the right direction.

Small, consistent efforts adding to my enjoyment of life.

Small, consistent efforts making my life that much easier.

Hey, it's me!

Now for the overall life discipline thing.
Two hours of Facebooking and not even realizing 2 hours had passed is an horrendous time suckage.

Leisure is great but not when I'm so short on cash.
Got a whole lot of Ebaying to do.

So what's my plan?

I'll Ebay this afternoon when I get back from lunch with mother.

Ebaying and walking.

There.
I put it out into the universe and now I'll HAVE to keep my word (cuz that's my style).

Hear that, self?
Keep your word!!
Stylin'.

*Movement for Motivation*
Oh, this chick made my day!
Notice, she's not willowy, thin.
She's muscled, stocky and fast!
That's power baby!
Click here or click below...

All terrain mall walker

Me at close to 400 pounds May '04.

Me at close to 240 pounds Dec '07.

I included that recent pic of me in the black dress because I don't like it (the pic not the dress).

When I bought that dress, it didn't fit. It was advertised as a 4xl but didn't even make it past my neck when I tried it on. It sat in my closet for years waiting for "someday".

Then "someday" came.
It fit for my last day of class this past December.
I was so happy.
Until I looked at that picture.
Then, not so happy.
I don't like my size.
I don't like the way I'm shaped.
I don't like the way gravity is pulling my whole frame into the ground.

So much work to do to rehabilitate this beat up body.
So
much
work.

Assessing what is.
Accepting what is.
Changing what is.

Sometimes I think it would be easier to plod through life and not get all tangled up in trying to be better.
All the work, all this striving, it's tiring.
But the alternative is a half-life of nothing spectacular,
so I keep on striving.
I want the spectacular.

Yesterday I went to the mall.
When was the last time I went to the mall?
Hmm, maybe 8 years ago.

Yeah, it's been that long since I've been to Willowbrook.

Hey, I couldn't walk for years.
What's the point of going to the mall if you can't walk?

Before I lost the weight, I waddled.
I'd break a sweat walking from the car to the door
It hurt, badly.
Back, knees, ankles, the burn was unbearable.
Holding up a 400 pound body on a 5'2" frame was agonizing.

I'd pray for a place to sit.
Unless you're in the mall part of the mall there are no places to sit.
They don't have seats anywhere in those huge department stores.
Notice how you don't see very old people or very fat people walking around Macy's.
It's too much for them.
I understand.

Yesterday was different.
I couldn't find any nearby parking and I didn't really care.
I parked by Sears and Walked to Macy's, happily.
I had some blips of pain in my body but nothing remarkable, just sore, residual damage from years of morbid obesity and neglect, but nothing a little Tylenol didn't fix.

Spent a good 45 minutes in Macy's on my feet the whole time browsing, shopping, carrying merchandise and yes, breaking a sweat.
Hey, I had my coat on!

About 30 minutes into my shopping I was wishing for a bench. I wanted to take a "load off" my feet and recover. Instead, I put down my packages, took a deep breath, stretched a bit and kept on going. It wasn't too bad.

Back in my 400 pound days I would be almost in tears from that kind of exertion. In fact I couldn't have handled it. I would have been so desperate I would have sat on a display (probably crushing it) or had to throw my entire upper body across a bin of merchandise just to get the weight off my strained joints.

I remember the agony of waiting in line at the cash register. I'd silently curse the person in front of me for buying so much and the cashier for taking so long. I would perspire from the effort it took to stand. The pain would be so bad I'd pretty much pray the whole time I stood there until the moment of mercy when I was rung up and I could sit or lean and catch some sweet relief.

Yesterday, as I shopped with minimal discomfort, I remembered that agony.
I was sad for the me of the past who suffered in silence, in pain, on the verge of tears.
I was grateful to the me of the recent past who worked her ass off to get me here, halfway to well.
And I was hopeful that I would soon be so badass that I could shop for hours in high heel, platform boots and skin tight jeans and not want to sit at all.

In the meantime, in my halfway-to-skinny, L.L. Bean, practical sneaker-boots, I walked from Macy's to my car with three giant shopping bags and a satisfied smile on my face.
Huge achievement for a smaller girl.
What a life...

Work work work work work.
Achieve goal.
Rejoice.
Set new goal.
Work work work work work.

Life.
So funny.
Gotta remember to enjoy myself through all of this.

*Movement for Motivation*
OMG!
Check out this guy.
He's so ninja!
This is how I want to wake up in the morning!!
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's activity: 45 minute Macy's walk including parking lot and carrying heavy things with a smile.

Beauty move

Cousin Maria and me on Christmas Eve at Zoppy's and Jim's.

Cousin Maria and me 130 pounds ago (and maybe 15 for her!)

I'm looking at both pics of my cousin Maria and me and to tell you the truth, I think we look great in both pics.
We love each other and love makes you beautiful.
What can I say?

Sometimes I truly, deep-down believe that we are beautiful at every step on our life journey.
Fat, thin, young, old, sick, healthy there's a beauty that shines through us and says "If we can't find beauty in being rubbed, how will the Maker ever be able to polish us?"

Setting goals is beautiful.
Getting to the goals is beautiful.
Arriving at the goals is beautiful.

It's the standing still that sometimes hides the beauty.
It's the little wind-up toy that stops marching around and fails to hold our attention.
We forget.
The beauty is put on hold until we wind it up again and take notice.

I think every step on the journey is beautiful as long as we keep stepping.
Moving.
It's the moving forward, the taking risks, the being rubbed that makes us more radiant than if we played it safe and stayed still, forgetting life, forgetting to move.

I won't stay still.
Trust me on that one.
I know what I want to do and I intend to do it.
My spirit is restless with longing for LIFE.
I'm thirsty for beauty.

Today is the day after Christmas and I have work to do.
Ebay items to list.
Papers to grade.
Shopping to do.
House cleaning, putting laundry away, dishes
and somewhere in there I will move (walk? yoga? kickboxing? gym?)

I am mindful of my ability to do those things. I am grateful that I am able.
I am mindful that I would like to be able to do more, accomplish more in a day, have more energy be healthier and more mobile.
I am mindful of how unhappy I was when I was stagnant, sedentary...forgetful.

Beauty in the now.
Beauty to be and not yet.
Beauty in the moving.

It's too bad that you want to be someone else
You don't see your own face, your own beauty
Yet, no face is more beautiful than yours.

~Rumi, lover of God

*Movement for Motivation*
Hey, she does this before bed, which is a great idea, but this yoga
may be just what some of us need to WAKE UP!
Bed yoga.
Wakey
wakey
Eggs
and
bakey!
Click here or click below.

Unto You

Christmas Eve with my little tree in the background.

My favorite monster, Davy Jones.
How cool is he?

Christmas 2007.
Both my parents are alive and pretty much well.
I'm 130 pounds lighter than I was about a year ago.
I have friends and family who love me and whom I love.
My students are getting better and better with every semester.
My cats and my apartment are sanctuary to me.
Folks actually read my blog and get something out of it.
I have great hope for the future.

What more could I ask for on Christmas morning?

Another 100 pounds off my body.
A steady, lucrative source of income.
A nice guy.

Eh, all in good time.

Knowing me, I've set up my karma in such a way that I'll have to work hard to earn those things.
That's my style.
I like to look out at all I survey and say, "Behold the fruits of my labor!"

Except for the guy part.
I need to chill.
I need to stop thinking I can control that.
I need to stop thinking that there's a WAY to get that kind of attention from someone.
Let go, Lisa.
Just let go.

I think of Juno and how she filled Paulie Bleeker's mailbox with orange tic tacs (his favorite candy) and how he smiled when they spilled out at his feet.
That's the movies, Lisa.
Stop thinking you can orange tic tac someone and make them love you.
Reeeeeeeelaaaaaaaaaxx.

Love will find me.
Love will find me and I won't have to work at that.

The love I DO have to work at is my own.
It's a struggle.
Self-care does not come easily to me.
The old habits try to lure me into sitting on my ass and becoming depressed.

Chop wood carry water.
Put away laundry.
Keep my nest clean.
Take walks.
Move.
Eat right.
Love myself.
Fill my own mailbox with orange tic tacs.

Last night my mother and I went to the UCC church in Montclair. It was magnificent. A huge vaulted ceiling. Glimmering stained glass windows. A warm, welcoming, inclusive atmosphere. We stood surrounding the inner sanctuary holding candles in the pitch dark. The luminous circle of flames lit everyone's Christmas faces as we sang Silent Night.
I wept.
I wept for the beauty of it, for the gift we honored, for the life we shared and not less than any of those, for my ability to stand. I was standing on my own two feet, on my own sturdy legs, legs that I worked to rehabilitate. Legs that held me up and didn't hurt or threaten to buckle underneath me.

I thanked God for all of it.
Thank you
thank you
thank you for my life.
Let me never forget how big....thank you, thank you for my life.

Merry Christmas.

Click here or click below.

Have yourself a merry

Leela, Bender Bending Rodriguez and Fry wish you a very merry xmas!

Futurama manga style.
Check out the Hypno Toad!

Yeah, I took a walk yesterday.
I felt like a car that had been sitting in the driveway all winter and never started.
It took about 10 minutes for me to warm up.
Until I warmed up I was in pain and very grouchy about it.

My back hurt.
My hip hurt.
My right hamstring hurt.
I was annoyed that I had ventured out in the RAIN to walk when I could have easily driven to the store to buy after-shave for my father.

But I walked in the warm rain, pain and all.

Once I reached my destination I wanted to sit down.
I wanted to find a bench or duck into the Dunkin' Donuts for a seat.
I resisted the urge.
I reminded myself of the stamina I had shown over the past year and reassured myself that I could stay on my feet.
Took some deep breaths, lifted my upper body and took some nice long strides into the Rite Aid then took my time browsing.

The shopping distracted me from my aches and pains.
By the time I was on my way home I was more comfortable.
The blood was flowing.
The pain was lessened.
I did some stretches to work out my kinks and arrived home, sweaty and satisfied.

Tonight is Christmas Eve. My mother and I will go to church and I'll pray deep, sincere, heartfelt thanks to God for my life.

Sometimes folks will say to me that I shouldn't give God all the credit for my hard work as if I needed to be reminded that I created my own circumstances.

The way I see it, God's grace was always there, but where was I?
I know I worked hard to get where I am.
I also know from whence cometh my help, the divine source, the nourishing bosom, the sustaining hand, the infinite power.
It's a partnership that I wasn't always a full partner in.
I was busy hiding.
I'm grateful that I always had something to hope for.

My friends, too.
They stuck by me during the worst of times and the times were bad, real bad.
I'm grateful for them, too.

It is right to give thanks and praise.
Why?
It softens the heart. It makes us grateful for what we have and keeps us from taking things for granted.
It places us in relationship with something eternal and infinite
that dwells in each of us.

I pray that we all tap into that divine source this year to realize our dreams, our talents and our happiness.

Merry Christmas.
God bless us, everyone.


*Movement for Motivation*
So, what? Only skinny people do yoga?
That's gonna be one of my products.
Yoga for Fat Folks!
Well, at least these people are over 30...lol.
It's adorable.
Enjoy!
Click here or click below.

Yesterday's Activity: nice 20 minute walk in the rain.

The belly and the sword

"Most Fruitful Yuki: Lead with the Belly.
Follow with the Sword."
~ the comic book that Jason Bateman shows Juno

Well I feel about 1000% better looking at Yuki's big pregnant belly and knowing that she's still able to sword fight and generally kick ass.

No, I'm not pregnant.
Never have been.
But I sure do have a belly...for now.

The belly bothers me.
Like physically, it bothers me.
It's not a nice round stationary belly that kinda stays put like Yuki's.
Mine is floppy.
Mine is dissolving.
It's melting.
It's leaving, but not before sagging and pulling at me and flapping around and making me feel deformed and horribly self-conscious.

I remember how hard it was to START moving last year at this time.
Having to feel my body for the first time in...forever.
Having to hear it smack against itself when I exercised.
Having to feel the loose flesh swinging around.
It made/makes me not want to move.
I don't want to feel that loose, flobby flesh.
(Yes, flobby = combination of flappy and flabby and blobby).

Kinda a Catch 22 isn't it?
In order to make the flobb go away I have to move.
But moving means having to feel the flobb.

No wonder people become sedentary and overeat.
Who the hell wants to feel all this??

It doesn't help that I'm not working yet (full time).
It doesn't help that I have no health insurance, no concrete plan of action to get the flobb removed.
It's all a leap of faith.
Faith that I'll take off the rest of the weight and have a way to get the cosmetic surgery I need to repair my damage.

In the meantime I'm cringing, afraid to move, afraid to feel the reality of my body.
I can't let that happen.
I can't give in to the fear.
I have to move despite the discomfort.
I must defy the flobb.

Yuki comes at a good time for me.
She's got her big pregnant belly.
When she pushes out the baby God knows what kind of stretchy skin she'll be left with hanging around her navel.
Meh, she's still fighting.
She still picks up her sword every day.
Belly or no belly she's kicking ass.

I won a battle last night.
As you can see we went to see JUNO (a wonderful, funny, smart, incredibly well made film) last night.
I wanted popcorn.
I knew I would walk into that theater and smell it.
I knew I would want to eat it.
I also know that it will make me really sick to my stomach if I eat it.
But, but, but...I want it.

I arrived at the movie theater armed for battle.
In my purse was a nice big serving of air popped popcorn, an apple, sugar free hard candy, nuts and a diet soda.
At the concession stand I bought a nice tray of soft pretzel bites, abandoned the little container of fakey nacho cheese on the counter and filled the dipping section of the tray with mustard instead.
The three of us shared the mustard pretzels.

I win.

Still got to eat.
Got to eat my popcorn.
Got to munch during the movie.
No guilt.
No nausea.
Happy, full belly.

Self-control?
You bet.
It takes self-control to plan ahead and provide yourself with what you need, want and deserve.
It takes self-control to say NO to the junk and YES to the better choices.
It takes self-control to say IT'S OK TO EAT AT THE MOVIES rather than fall into some self-punishing mode of deprivation for deprivation's sake.

Eating handled.

Now it's time to move again, belly and all.

*Movement for Motivation*
This is a great yoga move for the back and the digestive organs.
The narrator's voice is really annoying to me like she's speaking too close to the mic or something. I watched it with the sound off.
Click here or click below.

You are so cool...

Alabama (Patricia Arquette) writes something on her napkin with a pencil.

She slides the napkin over to Clarence (Christian Slater).
It says: 'You're so cool' with a tiny heart drawn on the bottom of it.
Clarence takes the pencil and draws an arrow through the heart.
She takes the napkin and puts it in her pocket.

That's one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite movies. Clarence the video store guy and Alabama the noobie prostitute steal cocaine from dangerous gangsters and go on a cross country adventure to unload it.

In the middle of a drug deal that precedes an awesome, bloody shoot out (because movies with the word "romance" in the title should always have awesome, bloody shoot outs) she writes him that note.

Very cool.

But you know me.
I'm not happy to simply write a note like that and pretend, for an exhilarating moment that I'm as spunky and lovable as Alabama. No, I don't want to just be the writer of that note, I want to GET that note.

I must have placed an order with the universe for one cuz I got it yesterday.
Yep.
I got it and I almost overlooked it.

Sometimes I get so caught up in my own head with worrying about what I DON'T have I neglect what I DO have.

And then sometimes I notice.

Yesterday's blog was for/about my YouTube friend, SusanPowterRox.
I sent her a message warning her that I was making her famous...haha.
She read the blog post and wrote back to me beginning with this line:
"Lisa you are so cool."

First time I read it I skimmed past that killer line to the rest of the message because I wanted to see her reaction to my blog.
Then part of my brain got all electrified when it snapped back to that opening line and focused on the words...you are so cool.

Gotta pay attention.
Sometimes exactly what we want is right there in front of us and we're too busy to notice.

Thanks, Alabama (draws arrow through heart and gives it back to YouTube friend).
You're awesome.

Last night I went out to a Christmas party with my childhood friend, Gerry.
We had a great time.
We split our attention easily between socializing and each other.
It was an easy, enjoyable evening.

She treated me to a psychic reading from Jack who gave me great news about the collaborative book writing I'll be doing over the break (she also treated me to drinks and dinner for that matter. I'd call that the equivalent of a "you're so cool" note! Thanks, Reno!)

I should have made it a point to get her necklace in the pic.
It's a handmade folk-art Sacred Heart she found on a shopping excursion to Cancun.

It feels great to go out in public as zaftiggy rather than grotesquely obese.
No one stares in wonder or disgust.
I can fit past people in a crowded room to get wherever I'm going.
I can sit anywhere at the table instead of only being able to squeeze into the corner or having to hang my ass out into the aisle.
I can get myself up on a high barstool and sit comfortably.
When they serve a giant homemade birthday cake I can say "no thank you' and not agonize over it wishing I could eat a piece or two or the whole cake.
I appreciate. I am grateful.

2008 is the year of appreciating what I have and creating something new along with it.
I'm formulating my movement commitment for 2008.

I have a feeling daily kickboxing drills will be included because I am just that cool.

*Movement for Motivation*
Looks easy but keeping proper form during these drills is essential.
It takes concentration and stamina.
It's hard work but the payoff is a priceless sense of badass-ery.
Click here or click below

Banishing Entemann

Me with two of my Vixens (Kel and Mel)!
Miss 'em, miss 'em, miss 'em!

Here's my beautiful new friend who discovered my vids on You Tube.
I watched HER videos and just HAD to write for her.
Click here for her YouTube page.

We attract those we need.
We need to do two things in this life: love and learn.
Everything can be simmered down to those two catagories.
Learning and loving.
Loving and learning.

L I S A

L = learn

I = interact

and

S = share

A = adoration

So here goes...
In her video Appeal for Self Control (click here)
she talks about diving into a box of Entemann's and wishing she had the self-control not to.

I understand.
I used to do that.
Only my Entemann's cakes weren't part of the household's groceries meant to be consumed by family or company or even eaten one slice at a time.

My Entemann's cakes were part of a three box totem pole of sugary binge foods to be eaten with my hands from torn open boxes till I threw up or passed out or both.

I don't do that anymore.
Here's what I did about Entemann's: I detoxed off the sugar, carbs and processed foods and never, ever bought Entemann's again.
And never will.

But my girl over there has a family.
My girl over there has to shop for others.
What will she do?

Let's imagine someone in our household is diagnosed with emphysema or even asthma.
Would we allow smoking in the house?
Would we be burning incense in the house?
No.
Of course not.
We would be extra careful about that person's health problem. There wouldn't even be a question of whether making it a non-smoking household was fair to all the smokers in the house. There would be no whining about smokers having to go outside in the cold for their cigs.
Emphysema or asthma trumps all other concerns.

So why is it not the same with food?

Someone in the house has a weight problem or an eating disorder or diabetes and we STILL allow cakes, chips and junk into the house?

That sh*t has got to stop.

Ladies, ladies, ladies, YOU are the shoppers of the household.
Don't buy that crap.
Who cares if the kids or the DH bitch and whine?
Let 'em.
For the record, chips, sodas, cakes and junk aren't good for them either.
Tell 'em they're lucky you shop at all.
Tell them calmly that this is a health issue and if they want Mommy to live they'll adapt.
And they will. They'll adjust.
Sure they'll be bitchy for a while trying to get you to change back, trying to get you to fall off the wagon and eat sugary, junky crap, but eventually, if you hang tough, they'll get used to the new foods and you'll all be healthier.

It's the holidays.
I have company in and out of my house and I like to feed people.
I LOVE to feed people.

Cookies?
No.
Cinnamon and brown sugar Quaker Rice Cakes.
They're sweet.
They're awesome.
They're low fat.
They're better for you than cookies.

Cake?
No.
Rice Krispied treats.
Yeah they're loaded with sugar but at least they're good for you on some level.
Low fat as well.

Chips?
Nah.
Wasa.
Rice crackers.
Rice cakes.
Whole wheat pretzels.
Air-popped popcorn.
Fresh veggies and fat free dressing.
Veggie chips and fat free sour cream dip.

I serve
Nuts.
Fresh fruit.
Dried fruit.
Low fat options.
High protein options.
Nice pot of home made vegetable soup on the stove.
Warm cooking smells in the house.

People need to eat.
YOU need to eat.
So eat.
Just eat better.

And for heaven's sake, shop better!

It's a health issue.
You wouldn't smoke around an asthmatic!
Don't bring Entemann's cake in a house with an obese person!

End of story.

With love.

*Movement for Motivation*
As I'm formulating my mental plan for action to take off the next 100 pounds I'm hearing the call of the martial arts.
I LOVE the way this guy moves!
Think we can learn to move this way?
I bet we can.
With practice we can.
Click here or click below.

Yesterday's activity: standing laundry....sorting and folding while standing!!
From 1pm - 5pm no lie.

resisting misery

Me a few days ago.

Me a few years ago.

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Depression robs life.
Robs it blind.
If anyone has ever said to you, "Just get over it"
or
"You can't let your mood keep you from living life"
or
"Just pick yourself up by your bootstraps and stop feeling sorry for yourself"
then you know how frustrating it is to be misunderstood.

Depression isn't just a bad mood.
It's an all consuming not-caring.

I almost stopped caring.
Yesterday was a moody, miserable day.
My students are moving home for the holiday break.
The semester is officially over.
I was tired and mopey.
I had a party the night before and felt like I had nothing great to look forward to.
I went out to Christmas shop and pooped out halfway through from lack of enthusiasm.
Napped.

I didn't feel like moving.
I didn't care if I ever moved again.
I didn't care that I could overcome my mood by taking a walk.
I didn't care about overcoming my mood.

Lying there on the sofa last night I was ready to scrap the whole day and sink further into depression.
But I didn't sink.
I remembered by Charlemagne.

“Nothing builds self-esteem and self-confidence like accomplishment.”
~Thomas Carlyle

I thought back over my day and recalled any and all accomplishments:
did dishes
ate well
blogged
answered emails
sorted laundry
scrubbed toilet
wiped floor in kitchen
vacuumed
visited my Father
shopped for Mother's Christmas gifts
responded to comments on my MySpace
uploaded and tagged pics on Facebook

Hey, not bad, I thought.
There was a time, just over a year ago, when I couldn't even do all those things on a GOOD day.

Still, I was mopey and unenthused.
I was tempted to go to bed.
But instead I did one more thing: I changed my sheets and pillow cases and Febreezed the mattress.

Doing that simple act of self-care made me feel much better.

I went to sleep feeling less miserable but this morning I awoke and my not-caring-about-anything threatened to rob me of my joy for life for a second day in a row.

Go through the motions, I told myself.
Just act like you're enthusiastic about life and see what happens.

I did dishes, fed the cats, made coffee, put on the Weather Channel, vacuumed the kitchen, sat my ass here and started to blog.

And guess what.
I do feel better.

Depression is tricky.
It's more than just a bad mood.
It's a total lack of caring. You don't even care if you ever feel better.
It's the cement block that keeps you sunk at the bottom of the pool.

The trick is to muster just enough caring to untie the knot that's keeping you tied to the cement block. The rising to the surface takes care of itself.

We were born to float.

*Movement for Motivation*
I may not be ready to do these moves but DAMN this woman inspired me!
Goddess bless her.
She rocks!
Click here or click below.

Meatwad or Goddess?

Another pic I like cuz I look kinda angry.

Instead of only showing you pics of my face, what with being the Queen of holding the camera at arm's length and taking my own picture, I'll show you a body shot...

...but then I look at my figure and think, "oh no, I'm shaped like Meatwad!"

Nothing is all good or all bad.
I'm all about the gray areas.

I'm looking at that pic of myself and thinking I need to accept myself just the way I am, be grateful for the present, love what IS before I shape what WILL BE.
And on the other hand I'm so disgusted with myself I want to go outside and take a walk right now and burn myself away.

I want to change my Meatwad-iness and move toward skinny....instantly.

The internal back and forth of not wanting to beat myself up for the way I'm shaped but wanting to use my dissatisfaction to motivate me to move keeps me kinda stuck.

Time to get my head on straight.
Time to unstick.

Must forgive myself.
Not even "forgive" because that implies that I've done something wrong to be forgiven.
Must reassure myself.

It's ok that I've been inconsistent with my exercise lately.
I've been sick.
I've been sleeping.
I needed the rest.
I do what's right for my health.
Now that I'm feeling stronger it's good to feel like moving again.
It feels good to walk.

That kind of self-talk takes discipline.
The old ways, the old self-critical tapes want to play on automatic.
Just know this: the old tapes can be replaced.

It takes work.
It takes NOTICING the negative self-talk and replacing it with new, compassionate, positive self-talk.
It takes being able to be OK with yourself and your feelings.

That's no easy task.
Feelings are all kinds of uncomfortable.
We've been taught to be ashamed of our feelings.
We've been taught to judge them as being either positive or negative.
We learn that certain feelings are ok and others are indulgences.

What I've learned?
Feelings are feelings.
Feel them.
Suppress them? Judge them? and watch your addiction NEVER GET BETTER!

Feel them.
Let them have their time.
Be ok with yourself and how you feel.

Behavior is a different story.
We can't go around like Christian Bale in American Psycho and...well we can, but...I don't want to spoil the film, just see it.

" Tonight I... uh... I just had to kill a LOT of people."

I totally understood Patrick Bateman's need to kill a looooootttttt of people.
Annoying people.
Stupid people.
Insulting people.
Shallow people.

But that's the movies.
People's characters are more easily black and white when they're up on the big screen.

In real life people are more complex...and forgivable.
Are there annoying people? Or are there people who have done things that annoy us?
Those same people who annoy us one moment can be our heroes the next.
No black and white.
No clear cut judgment of annoying-deserves-to-die.

Insulting people?
There are people who insult us. People who have said insulting things.
Those same people could give a benediction one day and insult us the next.
No clear cut judgment of insulting-deserves-to-die.

Same with shallow, stupid, selfish, sour...whatever.
AND...
Same with brilliant, deep, generous, lively... people are capable of so much.

So it is with ourselves.
Sure we can feel anger.
Doesn't make us bad or out of control, until we go around with a chainsaw or we open our mouths and say things we later regret.

Feelings are fine.
Translating those feelings into behavior is a bit trickier.

I'll look at the pictures from last night.
I can call myself Meatwad or Goddess.
My reactions are my reactions.
I'll let them be what they are.

Translating those reactions into repetitive thoughts that shape my self image...a bit trickier.
Translating my dissatisfaction into action...problematic.

It's ok to have the initial Meatwad reaction but letting that judgment play over and over in my head seems unhealthy to me.
Conversely, telling myself that I'm Goddessy is just as judgmental, too, right?

Sure.
Both are judgments.

But and here comes the big BUTT we all know and love...
MY FOUNDATIONAL BELIEF is that we are all created in God's image.
Beautiful, capable, loving and inherently divine.
That's what it means to me, God's image.

The notion that moves me CLOSER to that understanding is the one I'm going to choose as the self description that I'll allow to play over and over in my head on automatic.

Meatwadding myself makes me feel like crap and shuts me down.
It doesn't move me toward blossoming, developing, accomplishment.
Goddessing myself uplifts me. Empowers me. Makes me want to participate in life.

I choose Goddessy.

Goddessy takes discipline.
I have to catch the Meatwaddy thoughts, nip them in the bud, then replace them with Goddessy thoughts.

Catch, replace, catch, replace.

I had to kill a looooootttt of negative thoughts today!

*Movement for Motivation*
Whoa!
This is an awesome stretch!
And you can do it IN BED so you FEEL like getting up in the morning!
Love it.
Click here or click below.

What would a warrioress do?

Woo hoo!
Look at that soft focus blotting out the things I don't like!
I do like that I look a little angry in this picture.
Sometimes, anger is just what you need.

Anger can protect you.
Don't make excuses for other people's behavior.
Don't use your precious analytical skills and compassion to figure out why it was YOUR FAULT for saying something the wrong way, being too _____ , asking too many questions or pursuing what you desire.

If someone reacts badly - and by badly I mean in a way that leads to your feeling hurt - get angry and put it on them...for once.

You've pointed the finger at yourself for too long.
I know this because I'm like you.

I made excuses for people for 43 years.

I told myself "they meant well"
or
I told myself "I must have come on too strong (in my pursuit, or opinions or personality or whatever)"

I told myself "It's not their fault. I am pretty intense after all. They were probably just confused/scared/overwhelmed/fill in the blank."

No more.
I'm done.
Even if ALL THOSE THINGS ARE TRUE and it turns out I am frightening, intense, forceful, loud, pushy, bossy, and terrifying as the dawn, I'm not making myself wrong any longer.

"In place of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen!
Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn!
Treacherous as the sea!"

In other words,
if I'm too much for you then
tough
shit.

I'm no longer making excuses for miserable cowards clinging to life in the face of the terrible dawn of who I am.

Man up or get out.

Get it.
Got it?
Good.

Now the rest of the females of the species needs to get that too.
Stop molly coddling these little f**kers.
And I say "little" because if they don't know how to act, then they're little.

Do we really need companionship so badly that we're willing to tolerate abuse?
I tolerated a lot of abuse.
Thank god, none of it physical, but still.
Emotional and psychological abuse is devastating.
The damages are lasting.

Are other folks allowed to be angry?
Sure.
Let them express their anger, BUT....and everyone loves a big but...

There are ways to treat people.
Ways to say things.
Even if it's to say "no thank you".

Get angry and demand the treatment you deserve.
And if a little person is hurtful toward you?
Don't sit and obsess and figure out "why" they behaved that way.
Don't try to reason away their behavior so you can rationalize your desire to continue interacting with them.
Screw them.
DO NOT forgive them till they ask for your forgiveness.

Hey, I'm not telling you to go around with anger on your heart unfairly holding grudges against people.
What I'm saying is PROTECT YOURSELF.
It's good to get angry and draw some healthy boundaries around yourself.

If someone behaves in a way that you find unacceptable...
Draw some boundaries.
Get mad.
Use your anger to protect yourself
and stop being a doormat.

Be a warrior.
Warriors have dignity.

Someone f**ks with you?
Get angry.
Lop off their head.
Do it succinctly, in a dignified manner, but send a clear message that YOU WILL NOT TOLERATE MISTREATMENT.
Don't lie down and take it anymore.
Lop.

Save your understanding, forgiving, compassion for someone who deserves it...you!

*Movement for Motivation*
How to sit like a yogini!
Yes, even sitting with intention can provide a workout!
Click here or below.

Yesterday's Activity: Yay rah for The Vixens! 30 minutes on the stationary bike. 15 minutes of weight training.

Polar Opposite Express

I've been compulsively taking self portraits to reassure myself that I've still got it. Thing is it takes a lot of "soft focus" and "glow" effects on Photoshop to make it happen...lol.

I'm a neck up beauty. What can I say.
I'm working on the rest.

Work in progress.
Please pardon our appearance as we beautify our facilities to enhance your Lisa-fied experience.

So what's good?
I haven't weighed myself in over a month.
I'm free of the demon scale.
My appetite is down.
I don't crave as many carbs.
I DO crave a lot of chicken and turkey lately, so I'm eating it.

Lots of Christmas candy, cakes and cookies pass under my nose and I don't eat any of it.
Ah, it's good to be da Queen.
Queen of my castle.
Getting a grip on my own life.

Learning to appreciate my friends.
Learning to crave stable, loyal, good friendships instead of glittery, intense, emotionally destabalizing crushes and the thrills they offer.

Food used to be like that for me.
Chocolate for instance, or movie theater popcorn or macaroni and real cheddar cheese.
They offered a rush, a momentary brain-chemistry pleasure, much like these unstable crushy obsessive feelings do.
The highs and lows are intoxicating.
And then I want more because the rush is harder and harder to maintain.

I saw a documentary about crack addiction. The girl said the initial satisfying high lasts about 15 seconds and then it's just a dull buzz.

Those highs can ruin a life.
Glitter foods almost ruined mine.
Scratch that.
They DID ruin mine.
I let them.
I favored false stimulation, that initial 15 second high over the less intense stuff of a nice, balanced, disciplined, gratifying, satisfying life.

I don't want to get sucked into that temptation again.
The dangers of the glitter high are always lurking.

After my friends left last night I hoped they had left a piece of their pastry behind so I could take a bite of it.
I caught myself.
I acknowledged that I wanted something sweet.
I acknowledged that I wanted something to eat.
I had an apple.
The craving for pastry went away.
(Did I mention? The Queen!)

The temptation to mope, sulk and obsess about imaginary love-life issues threatened to screw me up last night. I was up till 4 am instant messaging with friends, complaining and name calling.

This morning when I awoke, late, after 9:00am I regretted that I had missed the joy of waking up nice and early. I will NOT let my life fall into a bad pattern over the winter break. No reverse sleep patterns for me. I'm taking care of myself. dammit.

This is the winter break of doing for Lisa.
No nonsensical distractions from anyone who isn't on board for the Dignity Express.
Put up, shut up, man up, but be sure to stay out of my way if you're not going to honor me the way I deserve to be honored!

I give to people whether they deserve it or not.
Maybe it's time they worked harder to earn it.

Wanna be inconsiderate or behave badly?
You're dismissed.

No holiday ruin-ers allowed.

No self-esteem ruin-ers allowed.

Everyone needs to behave!

Learn to treat me with the respect I deserve....especially me.

*Movement for Motivation*
Belly dancing.
Great for abs.
Great for self-esteem.
Do these stretches standing or sitting.
Click here or click below!

Party girl

My Christmas card pic.......if I were sending Christmas cards....haha.

Me and childhood friend Gerri.
She's still as pretty as she was in 8th grade.
Never ages.

Ma bestest Mary Anne. MILF extraordinaire! Gorgeous as ever.

Me and Laura Shapiro. Can't believe we met back in our party girl days when she tended bar! Now she's a professional canine trainer and a beauty as always.

Ever on a quest for authenticity and genuine articleness I took my own advice and went to a party last night despite my lingering sore throat and general malaise......and heartache.

I wanted to stay home and mope.
The devil in me tried to talk me out of going. It tried to tell me that I wouldn't have anyone to talk with, though I've known many of the guests since my party girl days back in 1993 and a couple since childhood.

It tried to tell me that I don't like to socialize, that I hate small talk, that I'm socially awkward, that I wouldn't be able to eat any of the food, and basically that I'd have a bad time.

Glad I listened to that OTHER voice in my head that said GET THEE OUT OF THINE MOPINESS AND GO SOCIALIZE!!

I got dolled up and went to the party.
Then I had fun.
Genuine fun.
I did my Lisa thing where I enjoy myself, make conversation, smile, drink and at the same time make all kinds of observations to talk about here on my blog...haha.

There were around 40 guests in a big beautiful house on the lake up in Wayne. The house was fabulously decorated for Christmas. The air was filled with tinkling glasses and bursts of laughter. The food was top notch. I ate mushroom salad, some nice dark bread, chicken with capers and artichokes, all low or non fat. I drank some Pinot Grigio till I was happily lubricated. Must mention: being free of an eating disorder makes a party fun rather than a torturous inner war complete with self-consciousness over what I'm eating or the preference to stuff my face rather than enjoy the company. Last night I ate just enough. I felt so normal.

Many of the guests were from our Van Houten Ave bar hopping days when we were thinner (except for me, I was much fatter back in the day) single, still not at our "real" jobs, able/willing to stay out till 3am and we were younger, much younger.

Now phrases like
"...our Brandon is allergic to bananas..."
"...they can tell the sex in the 5th month..."
"...it's great to be retired..."
"...we bought when the market was good..."

replaced our he-said-she-said gossip and let's-do-shots from back in our bar days. Folks who were on again off again couples back then are now married homeowners and parents.

We started to poop out or have to go fetch our children from the sitters around midnight but not before having some great fun.

I was glad that it wasn't "remember when" kinda fun.
We made new fun. Cracked wise about current stuff. Laughed about recent things.

Folks were generous with compliments telling me how great I looked, hugging me, god-blessing me.

The temptation to think about negative things or heart breaky things didn't arise much. I stayed in the moment. Really listened to people when they spoke. By the end of the evening a nice layer of hurt had been wiped away.

I began to actually believe the old rhetoric: his loss.

Is the pang still there?
Sure it is.
I really like this person.
Like really really.
I had all this happiness planned...lol.

I liked him so much I was willing to JUST BE FRIENDS.
No lie.
The romanticky feelings would have worn off eventually as they always do and I would have had this awesome friend.

His energy was so uplifting. He made me laugh. He was lively and fascinating.
Then he kinda blew me off, totally unexpectedly, a sudden 180.
It sucked.

But then again his behavior toward me should help me get over him.
A person who would be like that is not really all that likable now, is he?
Not good friend material.

I don't want to dwell.
Dwelling reinforces the negative feelings and turns them into habits.
No need to grieve unnecessarily over something that was only a maybe anyway.
Resist the temptation to dwell.
Put on some Christmas music.
Think about something else.

I really am taking my own advice and keeping busy.
The girls want to meet at Giorgio's this Friday for a girls night out and I'm going.
Accept all invitations!
Surefire cure for a broken heart.

A note to my readers: I haven't been exercising consistently. I don't feel well. The sore throat/ upper respiratory infection is taking a long time to leave my body. I've been sleeping quite a bit, which should help. My beloved Vixens may want to do the gym tomorrow and if they do, I'll go, sick or not. Maybe perspiring will help get rid of the infection.

Click here to leave a comment or email me at BelovedIdeas@yahoo.com

*Movement for Motivation*
Not sure why the model has to be so skinny. She doesn't seem fit enough to be lifting those weights. BUT this video is good for teaching us to modify.
The girl in the video?
She's doing the moves WAY TOO FAST.
Do what she does with empty hands, soup cans or weights if you can handle it but do it in half time, slowly, in slow motion. You'll get more from the workout that way.
Click here or click below for video.

no breaky heart

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

~M. Kathleen Casey

The great Matt Boyle, President of Newman Catholic, and me (with Jesus peeking over Matt's right shoulder!) at the Newman Catholic Christmas party.

Here's my advice for getting over a broken heart: go to parties!
I mean it.
No parties to go to?
Throw one!

Don't give in to the desire to mope.
Trust me on this one.
I've been doing this for a looooooooooong time.

I hear from my girlfriends, guy friends and students about their heartaches.
You would think the heartaches are about breaking up with a partner or the ending of a relationship.
Nope.
For the most part, the heartaches are over failed crushes, flirtations and the classic unrequited love.

We got our hopes up then nothing happened
or worse yet
we got rejected.

Boo hoo.
But for real, boo hoo.
It hurts.
It's a different hurt than the hurt of a break up.
This one seems to sting a bit differently, like our self esteem was hung up on the reactions of that one person who we HOPED would be our night(mare) in shining armor.

Then things don't work out and what do we do?
We blame ourselves.
I know I do.
Must have been something I said,
or wore,
or did,
or am.

If I had only said THAT instead of THIS.
If only I hadn't been so ________.
Maybe I ________ too many times.
Maybe I read his/her signals wrong.
But definitely something wrong with me.

Look, I don't want to give the classic "It's their loss" advice, even though it's true.
Hearing that it's their loss doesn't make the hurt go away.

We don't want it to be their loss.
We want them to turn around and recognize how WONDERFUL we are and how HAPPY we could make them.
We want them to admit they made a grievous mistake in overlooking us and beg our forgiveness.
Then we can live happily ever after....if only THEY would cooperate!

We play scenarios over and over in our minds.
Dissecting the latest conversations for hints of hope, for clues on how to fix it, for the last scrapings of the joy we once felt in anticipating what might have been.

It hurts in our chests.
I know it hurts in mine.
There's an actual pang, an ache, when I think about it.

So I'm catching myself thinking about it and trying to think of something else.

I had my nice boo hoo.
You need a good cry at times like these.
You need to feel the pain of it and get it over with.
Pretending it doesn't hurt isn't healthy.
Let it hurt.
Then move on to the hard work of wiping away the heartache.

How?
Big splashy distractions.
Decorating.
Shopping for others.
Socializing.
Exercising.
What the hell, volunteer someplace!

Thoughts of the recent heartache creeping in and trying to ruin your good time?
Take a deep breath.
Think of something else.
Do something that takes your mind off it.

Think of that love shaped space inside you and how that person just didn't fit there.
Think about who DOES fit there in the here and now.
Loving friends?
Loving family?
People who are enthusiastic about sharing your company?

Reward those who exclaim, "Let's hang out!"
Hang out with them.
Don't waste too much time lamenting the one who blew you off or gave you that vague, wishy washy maybe that kept you hanging on, holding your breath, expecting something great.

Never miss an opportunity to go out and do something.
It may FEEL satisfying to sit home and mope.
It may FEEL better to dwell on the heartache and scheme and plan and try to salvage the situation.

Don't
give
in.

It just prolongs the pain.
Pain isn't meant to hang around.

We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
~Kenji Miyazawa

Live through it, then burn it away.
The love shaped space needs to be opened up to that person who WILL appreciate you, who WILL be forthcoming and enthusiastic about spending time with you, who WILL do half the work and not leave it all up to you, who WILL deserve you.

Who WILL be good TO you and good FOR you.

We do this to ourselves around the holidays.
We have all kinds of fantasies about fill-in-the-blank crush of the moment and how snuggly and happy we could be complete with jingle bells and a crackling fire.
High expectations.
Bad fall.

Not that we shouldn't expect.
We SHOULD expect.
We just shouldn't expect blood from a stone.
Give the stone a couple of good whacks.
No blood?
Try whacking something else.

I'm grateful for my friends.
I'm so blessed to have people in my life who call me, text me, email me and say they can't wait to see me.
I have some awesome friends.
They truly are ultra cool.

I actually have folks who said they want me to cook for them and could they PLEASE hang out with me (let's hear it for the Vixens!! xoxooxoxo). And then they chipped in and bought me an Ipod. I mean, c'mon.

Who could be unhappy with that kind of love?

That's fairy tale level love!

I have an Inbox full of emails from students who are thanking me for a memorable semester.
A Facebook wall full of thanks.
Hugs and love.

That's what I think of when the temptation of negative thoughts tries to ruin my day.
I think of what I have to be grateful for.

My arms can't be so full of the disappointments of the past that I can't embrace the love in the present.

*Movement for Motivation*
The camera work is a little shaky but you get the idea.
Helping others is a great way to take the focus off one's self and one's problems.

Please click here to leave a comment!

Smart as a nap

“The fact of storytelling hints at a fundamental human unease,
hints at human imperfection.
Where there is perfection there is no story to tell.”
~ Ben Okri

Lest you think I'm a superhero of accomplishment let me tell you what I REALLY did yesterday.
After I shopped for storm supplies and some presents,
and picked up all my Christmas decorations from my parents' house,
I came home with good intentions.
I was going to clean and decorate!

Company was coming that night and I wanted my apartment to be twinkling and Christmassy.
Presents wrapped.
Tree up.
Lights blinking.
Cozied up for a snowy night indoors.

But what did I do after the shopping?
I stretched out on the sofa for a "rest" and ended up sleeping for 3 hours.
At some point I moved my sorry ass from the sofa to the bed and put on my CPAP.
Don't remember much about that.

Slept.
Slept hard.

Woke up disoriented.
Looked out the window.
The sun had set.
Instead of a foot of snow there was just some frozen slush on the roads.

Dashed around the apartment straightening up for my company.
No time to wrap their gifts.
No sparkling tree.
No twinkling lights.

It was soooooo the Middle Path.
The apartment was cleaned up.
Hot food on the stove.
A welcoming atmosphere.

It sufficed.

It wasn't the Christmas wonderland I had hoped to create but it was comfy and loving.

I could beat myself up for not accomplishing what I set out to accomplish.
But I won't.

If I passed out and stayed asleep for 3 hours I must have needed the rest.

Taking care of ourselves may look different from moment to moment.
It may look like decking the halls and trimming trees.
It may look like hard work
or it may look like a much needed, long winter's nap.

Sometimes we need to be better at discernment than at forcing ourselves to do what we think we're supposed to do.
Sometimes what we need at the moment is what needs attending to.

And sometimes we need to fight through our momentary needs to work for something bigger.
There were many times over the past year when I was exhausted but still dragged myself to the gym.
I fought through the tiredness and won.
I don't regret that at all.
It proved to me that my moods don't own me.
My tiredness is not in charge.

So why am I ok with my nap?

Discernment means knowing what to do and when to do it.
It means knowing when to push hard and when to tuck in for a rest.
It means knowing when to eat carbs or when to eat protein.
It means knowing when a one hour kickboxing class is better than a 20 minute walk and when a 20 minute walk is better than the gym.

It means knowing what's best for the here and now AND the long term, keeping both in mind.

Do the right thing at the right time.
It's not black and white.
It's totally a grey area.
No hard and fast rules to rely on.

Deciding from an array of options with a view to the future and a sense of care.
True attentiveness.
Calm non-judgment.

Learning discernment is a difficult but worthy discipline.

Click here to leave a comment!

*Movement for Motivation*
This looks like a great video.
Chairdancing.
And finally a fat person (in the background) instead of just cute old people!

Halfway better

Halfway there.

Stuck in the middle with me.
Halfway up Everest.
At a campground halfway up the mountain.

I can look back and see how far I've come.
I can look up and see how far I have to go.
I'm tired and motivated at the same time.

Today I'm especially grateful for my year of working out.
We're expecting a snow storm.
In the past this would have been a major, crippling event starting with the pre-storm grocery shopping. I remember shopping for a storm and being exhausted afterward. I'd drive home, sit in my car and pick one or two bags of groceries that I needed immediately and only be able to carry those bags in the house.

The rest I would leave in the car, like a giant refrigerator, and go pick from them as needed.

Walking from the car to my front door was so painful, so out-of-breathy, such exertion....I would collapse on the sofa as soon as I got inside.

My house was always a mess. Groceries never got put away immediately after buying them. They clogged up the living room floor tripping cats, friends and me until I got enough energy to put them away.

Last night's groceries were not only bought and put away, I cooked for myself and my friends. Instead of leaving dirty dishes and a stove full of food out overnight, everything was covered, put away and all the dishes are washed.

Sounds simple.
Sounds like no big deal.
But depression and morbid obesity made doing those little mundane, self-caring, day to day things a miserable, painful, difficult event.
Usually, they just didn't get done.

Today, I ran out in the ice storm.
Shopped.
Emptied the car of EVERYTHING that was in there and I'm looking forward to spending the day putting everything in its place, cleaning up the apartment and decorating for the holidays.

Not an effort.
A joy.

A real joy.

It's good to be halfway to skinny.

*Movement for Motivation*
This Stronger Seniors Workout Program looks awesome!
Again, cute old people, but fat people can really benefit from this.
Don't worry. One of my product lines is going to be fitness for the much larger set.
And we'll be cute, too!

Yesterday's Activity: parked far from my destinations on campus and walked briskly there and back.

Wiggle your Big Toe

Hattori Hanzo: What do you want with Hattori Hanzo?
The Bride: I need Japanese steel.
Hattori Hanzo: Why do you need Japanese steel?
The Bride: I have vermin to kill.
Hattori Hanzo: You must have big rats if you need Hattori Hanzo's steel.
The Bride: ... Huge.
I have new respect for Uma Thurman.
Not that I didn't already worship the ground she walks on (I started worshipping back when she played the Goddess Venus in The Adventures of Baaron Munchausen).
She's already one of the most fabulous creatures alive.
But now I understand what she had to go through to play The Bride in the Kill Bill films.

We kickboxed again yesterday.
We were sore from the day before.
It takes a lot of energy to lift a leg, keep it up in the air, kick multiple times, keep balance and perspire profusely all at the same time.

It takes an iron will to work out in a room full of girls half my age and half my size.
I have to modify the exercises for my ability level.
Lower kicks.
Half time punching.
Jumping jacks without the jump.

Whenever I wanted to quit, or give less than a full effort I thought of Uma.
I thought about that scene in Kill Bill when she's in the back seat, half paralyzed, and focuses her will to regain her mobility.

"Wiggle your big toe."

Mind over body.
Thoughts creating reality.

Incredible.
But that's her killer acting ability.
Much more impressive is her fighting ability.
Sure the fights are choreographed but that doesn't mean it's easy.

Just the stamina it takes to do minor drills like we do in kickboxing class takes unbelievable strength. I can't imagine the hours of training she went through to build up her fitness level, learn the techniques, memorize the fight sequences, shoot and reshoot the scenes, spar with stunt people and just be overall badass.

I love her.

So when I felt myself slacking or wishing our workout was over, I channeled Uma.

What would Uma do?
Wiggle your big toe.

I imagined how she felt when her limbs were aching, when she was exhausted, when she thought that getting into acting shouldn't involve that kind of physical discipline and pain and I knew, because of the brilliant finished product, that she kept on going.

Wiggle your big toe.

I've been looking at those pictures of myself from the last day of class.
Part of me knows that loving myself in the here and now, just the way I am, is the right thing to do.
Part of me also knows what potential I have.
I look at myself and see how far I've come and how far I have to go.
Sure, my body is soft and lovable but
I'm also an amorphous blob of clay waiting to be formed.

Learning to accept the here and now doesn't mean I can't imagine a different future.
A tougher, more badass future.


*Movement for Motivation*
I love this program. It's called Movement Improvement!

Yesterdays activity: one hour of killer kickboxing with the Vixens!

Click here to leave a comment.

Put up a fight

My former student Kim Robbins and me. We could be mother and dau....I mean sisters!

Kevin Geronimo (aka Voijer Neray) and me looking even MORE like Kim!

I look genuinely happy here.

Happy.

I was happy for almost an entire day.
It was weird.
Happiness isn't something I've allowed myself for a very long time.
Happiness will take some getting used to.

Looking at pictures of myself probably wasn't the best way to maintain the happy streak.
Never satisfied, I said awful things to myself about my hair, my face, my chin, my age....blah blah blah.
I'm almost so sick of being unfairly hard on myself I'm going to try to be kind to myself just to mix things up.

If not for myself then for all those beautiful young people I work with everyday who are so gorgeous and glowing but say the same rotten things to themselves that I say to myself.
If not for me then for them.

Doing it for others adds a dimension of nobility to my efforts. It makes learning to be kind to myself more palatable for me. Trying to bolster my self esteem just for myself is too iffy. The for-myself part of it is too unreliable. Doing it with others in mind is sturdier. Placing the significance outside myself gives it stability. I'll always be able to stick up for someone else before I'll defend myself.

Yesterday in kickboxing class the Vixens and I sweated and panted our way through a particularly difficult hour. I came up against that same obstacle from last time: trying to imagine a bad-guy as the focal point of my punching and kicking.

The masked marauder thing wasn't really working for me until I glanced back at my students. What if someone was trying to hurt one of them?
No way.
Not on my watch.
Defending them was easy (in my imagination).
I latched onto the "f**k off" mentality and punched away the imaginary bad guys...and kicked.

Physically it wasn't easy.
My body is still carrying too much weight.
I'm not exactly in great shape.
Better shape than I was, but still.
I have a lot of work to do.

This next hundred pounds isn't going to disappear without a fight.
Good thing I'm ready to fight.

*Movement for Motivation*
Great if you're stuck in bed, stuck on the couch, need to loosen up!

Yesterday's Activity Report: Vixens and I rocked out an hour of butt kicking kickboxing.

Kicking imaginary ass

"An unwillingness to deal forcibly with violence does not equate to moral rectitude."
~ Mary Malmros

It will be good to move again.
Whatever ailment I've been fighting for the past week has kept me from walking out in the cold or taking classes with the Vixens.
I'm starting to feel stiff, achy and unwilling to move.
Old habits.

But I've learned some valuable lessons this past year.
I know for a FACT that once I start moving IT WILL FEEL GOOD TO MOVE!

Aches and pains are not cured by sitting on my ass.
It was ok for me to rest while I was fighting an infection, but now it's time to get back in action.

I'm feeling resistant.
Like I want to stay still.
Like it will hurt to exert myself.
Like I'll be out of breath if I'm up on my feet.

In the past feeling like that would actually stop me from moving.
Now I know better.
I know that it will actually feel BETTER to get up and get moving.

It may not feel good immediately.
It may take a few minutes to get warmed up.
It may take some creaking and groaning to get the blood flowing, but the end result will be feeling better than I do right this minute.

No longer will I be seduced by taking it easy for the sake of pain avoidance.
It doesn't pay off.
It doesn't deliver.
It doesn't feel good in the long run.
Sitting on my ass just leads to more sitting on my ass.

A majority of the work I do involves sitting on my ass in front of the computer.
I do enough of it.
But sitting becomes a habit.

It takes an act of will to get out of my comfort zone and go against what I feel like doing at the moment.
Sitting wants more sitting.
Moving wants more moving.
Transitioning from one to the other is what used to trip me up.

I used to think I had to be in the mood to move.
I used to think I needed to be motivated to get up off my ass.
Nope.
I know better.

All it takes is an act of will.
Will into action.
Then once I'm acting, action wants more action.

It's only hard at first.
It may feel like exertion.
It may feel difficult.
It may feel out-of-breathy but it will only feel like that for a short time.

Today the Vixens and I start our three day Kickboxing for a Kause series.
Three days of kicking imaginary ass.

Last time I kickboxed I had a hard time picturing someone whom I'd want to punch and kick.
This time I have a strategy.
I'll just picture an imaginary villain, perhaps someone coming to harm one of my students or someone in my family.
Kinda like in a Christmas story.

When Ralphie is shooting at imaginary bad guys who climb over the fence in his backyard wearing striped escaped-from-jail suits. He didn't hesitate to shoot at them with his Red Ryder carbine action two-hundred shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time.

Masked marauders.
Yeah, sounds good.

*Movement for Motivation*
Warm ups get me in the mood to keep moving.
I swear!

Super Boys

Left to right: Jonah Hill (prefer him with his glasses, click here), Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Michael Cera.

Maybe I was born with too much testosterone.
It's not just that I like the main characters from Superbad
I feel like them.
I totally identify with their awkward trying-too-hard-to-connect attempts at wooing the opposite sex.
Sweated every embarrassing faux pas as they geeked their way through a nightlong quest for affection.
And I say affection rather than sex because it seems affection's what they were truly after although their big talk about getting laid dominates the dialog.

The movie struck me as being truly authentic for this generation the same way Dazed and Confused really nailed it for my generation.

In both films, of course, the boys had the better story line, the better jokes, the more interesting, sympathetic characters and made me want to, not only be with them, but BE them.
They're the ones having all the fun figuring out who they are.
They're the ones making all the embarrassing mistakes.
They're the ones getting their hearts broken, trying for girls who are out of their league and screwing up royally in the most endearing ways.

I'm like that only I'm not sure it's as charmingly endearing when I do it because I'm female.
But just like the awkward nerds that win our hearts on the big screen, I don't get the wooing process.
I'm like Seth from Superbad with all his complicated machinations and fool-proof plans that just don't work.

When I like someone I get too excited.
I get too YOU'RE SO FRIGGIN' COOL OH MY GOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD YOU'RE SO AWESOME AHHHHHHH!!!!!
and am about as subtle as a cinderblock through a windshield about it.

I get responses ranging from "you're weird, gotta go"
to not having any idea what to do with me but keep me around anyway cuz who can resist a girl who's head over heels in love with you and oh looky at all the crazy sh*t she's doing to get my attention, how entertaining and I won't cut her loose cuz it's just too damn fun to watch her turn herself inside out for me.

Would a movie like Superbad work as well if the main characters were girls?

I dunno.
They don't seem to portray girls that way in films.

So if it seems not-so-feminist of me to be fascinated with boy culture go easy on me, will ya?
I need the Seths and Evans of this world to make me feel less like a freak and to give me hope that somewhere out there is someone who thinks my geeky awkwardness is irresistibly charming.

At least all my screwing-up gives me something to write about.

*Movement for Motivation*
I love the two colored shoe cue so we can mirror her!
Tai chi for life, baby!

Inner skinny

Well, I did it.
Today feels like the actual halfway point in my journey to "skinny".
Over the past year of daily blogging and other positive daily habits, I've learned what I already knew.
Skinny is a state of mind.

Yes, I knew that but I didn't REALLY know it.
It's hard not to romanticize notions of thinness and desirability when you're so far from it.
It's the grass-is-always-greener syndrome.
Thin, fit, desirable looks like utopia when you're close to 400 pounds and unable to move.

Thinness looks like it solves all your problems.
Sure I heard from enough thin pretties and been friends with enough of them to know that all our problems do NOT go away just because we're wearing a size 4 dress (for the record I'd be happy wearing a size 10).
Same romantic troubles.
Same body image troubles.
Same life issues.

But from my standpoint, or rather sitting point, it looked so much easier to live at a smaller size.

I'm experiencing a kind of ease now but not the problem-free existence I thought being smaller would bring.
Weighing 130 pounds less does not bring the ease I thought it would.
Ease, yes.
Perfection, no.
Most of life's problems are still the same as they've always been
BUT
physically I'm more free.
That makes a difference.
A really nice difference.

It's not utopia but it's better than it was.

Still, skinny is a far off wish that shines with less intensity.
I don't want it as badly because I know it's not all it's cracked up to be.
The inner skinny is far more important than the outer skinny.

The inner skinny says "I'm worth it" and means it.
The inner skinny says "I deserve love, respect and all life's blessings RIGHT NOW not at some future time."
The inner skinny puts the outer skinny in its place.
Thin is good.
Peace of mind is better.

It's amazing that I rely so much less on food for comfort.
I'm not in as much pain so I don't need as much comforting.
Physical pain is horrible, debilitating, depressing and attitude wrecking.
I understand how people can get caught in a self-comforting loop of overeating to compensate for their inner and outer pain.

Good thing I've been writing this all down for over a year.
Somewhere in here is the key to helping other people get well.

Believe me, I'll find it, condense it, simplify it and sprinkle it generously on anyone who needs it.
Inner skinny.
Outer skinny.
Peace of mind.
We'll figure it out.

*Movement for Motivation*
This guy is so awesome.
Next week, 3 days of kickboxing with the Vixens, look out!

Shooting bad guys

"There is no remedy for love but to love more."
~ Henry David Thoreau

Shooting bad guys together on a mysterious island inhabited
by monsters and dead people.
Now THAT'S love!

Tomorrow is my one year anniversary of Blogging every single day.
Yeeeeehaaa!!
It outlasted my commitment to working out 6 days a week (which I kept up for 10 months).
It outlasted my daily calling of motivational hotlines (which I kept up for 11 months).
It outlasted my own expectations of myself (which were always too low).

Burning away the irrelevancies to get to the heart of the matter.
That's love.

I love to write.
I do.
It's one thing to make a commitment to doing something you DON'T love to do.
It builds character and all.
But making a commitment to doing something and realizing you actually LOVE doing it?
That builds self-hood.

I love that I love writing.
I've always wanted to be a writer but never thought I was good enough.
But I learned something this year.
People who are "successful" at what they do - receiving recognition, making a living at it - aren't necessarily that good at it.
You don't have to be good at it to do it for a living no matter what that it happens to be.

There are plenty of folks who are mediocre at what they do and make a fine living at it.
I've read some crappy books over the past year.
Heard some seriously average speakers, lecturers, so-called experts.
Watched some god-awful movies and tv shows.
Saw some cheaply put-together DVDs for working out, self-improvement, etc.
Folks are paying good money for this stuff and being fairly satisfied with what they're paying for.
Really!

What makes me think I have to be GREAT at what I'm doing before I'll step into the arena with all the so-called experts? Even if I'm mediocre, so what?
Sure, there are plenty of awesomely talented, great, deserving, remarkable do-ers out there in the world, but there are plenty more who are just kinda so-so.

So what's my problem?

My friend Esmilda is always telling me that all you need to have is 15% more knowledge of a subject than the folks in your audience in order to be paid as an expert.
She's right.

Not that I'm deciding that I can lower my standards.
It's more of a all-the-lights-don't-have-to-be-green-before-I-can-leave-the-house kinda thing.
I'm giving myself permission to get better as I go along.

I spent the past year earning my own love.
This is the year I'll spend falling in love with myself exactly as I am.
Sure I'll continue to get healthier, to improve, to change, but part of that change will involve a deeper and more abiding self-respect.

Essential for health.
Essential for love.

Helpful when it comes to success.

*Movement for Motivation*
Sometimes sitting and centering is all the movement we need.

click here to leave a comment!

Flow it Show it

"Gimme a head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there hair!"
~ from the song Hair

Funny thing.
I was reading a video game script...never read one of those before...and I noticed something odd about how the author was describing his characters as each one showed up in the game.
He seemed to be fixated on the characters' hair:

A long-haired dirty-blonde teen with glasses
A man with slightly long brown hair enters
A person with black hair and a giant sniper rifle
A man with black hair and a very large sword

I thought it had something to do with the author himself since he happens to have long, curly, hard-not-to-notice hair.
Maybe it was just him.
Maybe he has a hair thing.
Mind you, I haven't asked him so this is purely speculation on my part but I think it has something to do with the nature of video game characters in general rather than his personal follicular affinity.


Same bodies.
Different hair.

WHAT THE HELL?

In all honesty I don't know enough about this genre to make a fair critique, but I wonder.
Things like this don't happen in a vacuum. Somewhere along the line someone decided that the acceptable, playable female form is tiny waisted, big breasted, round assed, long skinny legged with the main differences occurring in their costumes and hair.

I just wonder why that is.

When I watch TV, and I admit I watch way too much TV, the females are similarly stacked. Sitcom women, reality show women, news women, celebrities, and my fashion shows (the modeling industry being the worst culprit) only show a certain body type as if thin, young and buxom in all the right places is the only way to be. Anything outside of those parameters is unacceptable, unshowable and downright icky.

No wonder I have such shaky self esteem.
I ingest a steady diet of pop culture that glorifies the stereotypical "hot" female body type.
It figures I would feel icky about my looks.

But....and you know there's a big one coming...
I do want to be lean, fit, and in shape.
I want the pleasure of wearing fashion that represents how I feel about who I am.
I miss high heels!

There has to be some sort of middle path, some sort of balance between unrealistic, cookie-cutter, CGI and what I look like now.

Or rather what I FEEL like now.
A happy medium.
Something more human than a plastic doll figure with changeable hair.

" There ain't no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder
Of my...
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair"

*Movement for Motivation*
Hmph. Waddya know. Eyes need exercise too!





click here to leave a comment!

Superman is a dick

For more Superman is a Dick hilarity click here.

Thanks, Ed!!

Alpha Beta

Fire Emblem: Goddess of Dawn....don't ask....don't...don't...don't ask.

Ever notice how dolls, video game characters, cartoon characters....any replica of the female form really, are always thin?
There are no fat dolls.
No fat super heroines.
No fat women lead characters unless the fatness has something to do with the story (i.e. Shallow Hall, Hairspray).

Even Mrs. Santa isn't always depicted as fat while her husband always is.

Barbie?
Forget it!
Nothing lumpy or bumpy on her except her bullet-proof torpedo breasts.

I grew up on the Archie Comics starring Betty and Veronica. (Can somebody tell me why Archie was such a pimp?)
I wanted to look like Betty and Veronica.
Big boobs, tiny waists, flat stomachs, perfect long thin legs and thick hair, always fashionable.
For thin girls they always seemed to be eating burgers and drinking milkshakes.
It never occurred to me that they were imaginary characters who could eat or drink whatever they wanted and always stay young and thin.
They weren't merely ink and paper.
They were Betty and Veronica. They just magically converted their soda-pop shop food into sexy siren comic book flesh that never needed trimming.
If I was fat I believed it was my fault for not being a good enough person.
My fat was a character flaw.

Still is.

I don't like that about myself, my blaming mentality, my reluctance to accept myself for exactly who I am in the here and now.

I know I'm not alone in this.

Part of my mission as a writer and whatever it is that I think I'm going to be....superhero motivational speaker?...is to help people be cool with themselves exactly where they're at.
Grey
Bald
Fat
Old
Wonky
Whatever.
We all have something lovable in us regardless of how we conform to some idealized beauty standard.

I was at the gym the other night and three young guys were "conversing" next to me. I put "conversing" in quotes because it was more of a mutual grunting session, like observing an Alpha male simian of some sort grunting orders to the Betas.

Anyway, one rode the stationary bike while the other two stood near him.
Beta 1 and Beta 2 "Hey wassup."
Alpha "Hey howz goin?"
Beta 1 and Beta 2 "(Grunt grunt)"
Alpha "You goin' later?"
Beta 1 and Beta 2 "(affirmative grunting)"
Alpha "So, this girl, I know her?"
Beta 1 "nah."
Alpha "She cute?"
Beta 1 "yeah."
Alpha "Aight. Later."
Beta 1 "Later" gives complicated hand slapping hand shake of some kind to Alpha.
Beta 2 "grunt" gives complicated hand slapping hand shake of some kind to Alpha.

What the hell did I just witness?
Was that a conversation?
The girl.
The girl of which they spoke.
I wondered what "cute" meant to them.
All I could think of was "not fat" but mostly "not me".

How would the grunting set describe me?
"Older lady.
I dunno, she's got a pretty face and stuff...."

The "and stuff" would make me nuts.
Like the word "but" would have to follow to make up for my not-young-ness and my not-thinness.
Not cute.

As it was, in real life, I didn't exist for them.
They had no interest in the fact that I was in ear shot of them.
No compunction about discussing the physical value of said "girl" to be met at the party later.
Funny.
Sociologists couldn't pay to get such a genuine, fly on the wall perspective like that and listen while their subjects spoke so candidly.

Cute.
Cute doesn't just mean cute to me.
It means worthy.
Worthy of attention.
Worthy of affection.
Worth hanging out with.

But I look around at real life folks and there seem to be plenty of not-exactly-cute folks hanging out, being affectionate, getting and giving attention.

What makes me feel so unworthy?

It's really just me.
I'm in my own way.

As long as I believe I'm on the outside of worthiness looking in that's where I'll stay... I think.
Wouldn't it be nice if someone surprised me and I didn't have to do all this karmic love-myself work to earn what I as a human being crave and deserve?

But you know me.
I'll probably make myself work for it.

*Movement for Motivation*
While I'm busy handicapping myself with my stinkin' thinkin' these folks aren't letting their supposed flaws stop them!!
Click here if video won't work...

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year hence

Would Superman ever really say something so insensitive to anyone?

"I'm afraid of being out of control,
of doing or saying something foolish,
of getting into trouble,
of being vulnerable...
I have that now or never feeling."
~ Lisa Sargese December 2006 (click here)

Great.
Same fears different year.

Stuff HAS changed for me.
I'm less afraid of being out of control.
I'm more forgiving of myself these days.
I'm more ok with who I am.
Not TOTALLY ok, but more ok than last year at this time.

The Not-Okayness is a sickness that's infecting the world.
I see it in my students, this fear of looking foolish, of taking chances, of participating in life.
They're holding back
when the world needs them to go all out.

But I can't expect them to go all out, take risks, be creative, expressive and generally awesome if I can't do it myself.
You know, the whole change-begins-with-me mantra.
That's the thing about mantras....they're true.
That's why they bug me.

I feel a December upper respiratory infection coming on. I'm guzzling Airborne and tea to fight it off.
It's better to be sick this year than it was last year.
No, really.

Being lighter, weighing less makes life in general, even being sick, so much easier.
Recovering from an eating disorder makes life so much easier.

I used to carry around guilt from having overeaten the day before.
I'd wake up with regret and a bloated gut.
I'd walk around worried about weight gain.
I'd feel the pressure of knowing I had a huge issue to solve, a giant loose end to tie up.

It's not just a lightness of body but a lightness of mind and spirit that makes life easier.
I no longer have to worry.
No more weight gain....ever.

It's simply impossible to gain weight eating the way I do.
It's simply a part of my life to exercise, move, breathe and be more active.

Issue handled.

What a relief.

My Blog is over a year old.
My daily Blogging anniversary will be December 8th.
It will be interesting to look back to last year and see where I was and how far I've come.

Good thing I wrote this stuff down.

*Movement for Motivation*
It looks gorgeous and feels gorgeous, too.


Yesterday's Activity: 30 minutes on the upright bike, 15 minutes on the recumbent bike, 15 minutes of weight training with the Vixens!!

loving the hating the

..............................................................................................................................

Myere: It’s probably fate.
Retreph: Didn’t think a smart guy like you would believe in fate.
Myere: You can be smart and still believe in things that aren’t exactly logical.

~ from David Kreinberg's Blood Core

Wanna hear "illogical"??
I hated the above picture of me soooo much (taken just one week ago) that I had to take the picture below (taken 5 minutes ago) just to cancel it out.

It's all about the angle, you know?

How in the hell am I ever going to counsel people on how to build their self-esteem if I can't even look at pictures of myself?
I know from years of studying, counseling and therapy that bad-body-thoughts
are not about, or not JUST about our bodies.

Looking at that top picture of me, and hating it, sure does FEEL like it's about my body.
Ham head.
That's what I think of when I look at it.
Giant Ham Head.
And the bottom picture that's supposed to be canceling out the top picture?
I'm thinking
Bulbous Rudolph nose.

See?
It's always something.

If I were talking to a client or student I would want them to go deeper and try to feel what was going on inside that made them think those terrible things about themselves.
But it's me, so....ok, I'll take it on.

Fear.
Fear of rejection.
Fear of being vulnerable.
Fear of being made fun of.
Fear of being passed over (oh, now we're getting to the heart of the matter) for someone younger, thinner, prettier........ok there it is.

Know how I know?
Because that one HURT the most to admit.
It felt the most uncomfortable.
The most exposed.
The most dear-god-please-don't-hurt-me.

Passed over....means what?
Not good enough.
I'm not good enough.
I'm not worthy.
I'm foolish.
I had some nerve trying in the first place.
I should have stayed quiet, played it safe and not stepped into the arena.
If I step into the arena I'll probably get my nose bloodied.
Just skip a step and don't bother.
Bloody my own nose.

Don't try.
I'll just get made fun of, rejected, hurt, passed over, left out....wow, all playground feelings.
I'm still carrying around THAT old baggage??
Playground baggage?

Is that what we do?

Karma is so strange.
Working through our psychological issues leftover from childhood takes our whole lives.
Or not.
I know plenty of folks who don't bother.
They stay stuck.
They never look deeply at their own issues and motivations.
They play it safe, never feel the tender, vulnerable feelings and just stay where they're at emotionally, never moving forward.

I guess I like the idea of moving forward rather than playing it safe.
Better to get my nose bloodied than stay on the sidelines forever.

It hurts,
but it's life.
Living should hurt once in a while.

I just wish it didn't hurt to look at myself.

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*Movement for Motivation*
It's very easy to find workout vids for senior citizens.
Not even close to easy to find workout vids for fat people.
Why?
Cuz society thinks old people are cute and fat people are hateful.
And I wonder why I have a hard time liking my fat self.
Ha!
These old people are cute, though.

but marshmallows are good!

Kirstie Alley looking totally hot and goddess-like.
I always thought she was beautiful.

I'm not about to become the poster girl for fat acceptance or anything but I sure would like to feel less like crap about how I look.

I was on My Space reading The Champ's (from the show Fat March, remember?)
latest blog entry. He was talking about getting his acting career going, auditioning, head shots etc. but he was saying such critical things about himself...

"...my mess of a body could be that guy!!!"
"Overweight... freaks, geeks and oddities. I pretty much fit both catergories..."
"My awful body is the shape of a marshmallow..."

I'm reading that and thinking, What the Hell?
He's so cute.
Why would he put himself down like that?

Then I remembered that we teach best what we most need to learn and thought,
oh right, those are exactly the god-awful things I say about myself.

Granted society is much more forgiving of overweight men than of overweight women.
You don't hear much red carpet hooplah over male celebrities gaining a few pounds.
I tend to see more heavy-set males with thin, pretty (pretty by society's rigid standards) girls than vice versa.
And The Champ himself has a lovely, devoted girlfriend.

But gender inequities aside, his self-deprecation made me reflect on my own tendency to dislike my own appearance.
Too fat.
Too poofy.
Too short.
Too flappy.
Too old.
Now way, too saggy....etc.

I could beat my own self esteem into a bloody pulp if I let myself.

Lisa Nichol's popped into my head.

Lisa Nichols, empowerment guru featured in The Secret, says...“I’m the first example of how the world is supposed to love me and I have to give them the best example ever. We expect someone to show us our greatness when [instead] I’m supposed to show up understanding my greatness and allowing you to celebrate it with me.”

That's the karmic test, isn't it?
Accepting, loving and honoring myself exactly where I'm at.

If some magical, alien, freeze-frame beam were blasted at the Earth and we were all stopped in time, having to live the rest of our lives with our bodies looking exactly as they do right at this moment, how would I fare?

Would I spend the rest of my days beating myself up for not looking a certain way?
What a terrible waste of energy that would be.
What an unfortunate waste of my talents, to keep them hidden because I don't look red carpet thin, young, long-beautiful-haired....fill in the blank with whatever not-good-enough phrase I've chosen to malign myself with at the moment.

Ok, so no alien freeze-frame beam is gonna stop time.
So, should I spend any more energy feeling like crap about myself?

Of course not and nor should you.
I believe that YOU'RE lovable, wonderful, beautiful just the way you are no matter what your future potential. Your Now is awesome.
Where you are right now is just as blessed and part of you as who you will become.

I should feel that way about myself.

I should, but can I?

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Note to Readers: You know that whenever a word appears in red it's a clickable link to something? I put all kinds of hidden goodies in my blogs for you. Click away!

*Movement for Motivation*
This girl, Tarra, lost 370 pounds without surgery. She's grateful to be able to do her own dishes and fix her own meals. Should I tell her she's unworthy of love because she doesn't look like Jessica Alba??

superheroes need naps too

Big Beautiful Wonder Woman by Mike R. Baker
(Click here for his blog)

The morning was icy cold.
The kind of grey winter morning that wants to keep you in bed.
The kind of bitter, icy chill that makes you want to cancel plans and snuggle in for dear life.
I was out in it,
early.

I had promised a student I would meet her to go into the city for a seminar on motivational speaking. I didn't want to let her down.

Me?
I'd let myself down in a heartbeat.
If it were up to me I'd never leave the house once the temps dropped under 45 degrees for the winter. You'd see me come out of hibernation sometime in the spring when the leaves started to bud again.
To hell with the cold.

Just for the record, don't think of me as some superhero of integrity. I canceled a plan I had for tomorrow morning to go to church with a student of mine. I'm anticipating a wintry mix. I have plans for later in the day. Gotta conserve my energy. I'm choosing to snuggle in.

But...Today, just for today, I'm glad I defied the cold and kept my word.
Today, I'm glad I toughed it out rather than give in to my mood.

Sometimes it just feels good to keep my word rather than honor my mood.
When I overcome a lazy mood to do the right thing
I feel like I'm building character, becoming more of a super hero.

Today in NY I met a woman at the seminar, a 75 year old lung cancer survivor who recently returned from a harsh trip to the North Pole. Going to the North Pole was one of those things on her life list, just something she HAD to do.
"Doom and gloom," she said, "That's what everyone told me to expect, either that or I'd get eaten by a polar bear. The overall feedback from everyone I knew was that I was crazy to go. But I went anyway."

She went.
She had no regrets.
She showed them.

There are times to go against the grain, to defy common sense, to do the ridiculously impossible, and then there are times to stay in bed.

We need to rest.
We need to rejuvenate.
We need time to reflect on our last adventure before we begin another one.

I'm feeling the need to snuggle in right about now.
I'm giving myself permission to nap.

*Movement for Motivation*
Yep, breathing is exercise.
And notice that he says not to push yourself to hard.
B r e a t h e ....

I'm blogging later today. I'll be at a seminar in NYC at the New School University till the early afternoon and I have to leave like NOW.

In the meantime, enjoy this trailer from the upcoming film, JUNO where Michael Cera delivers that killer line that I quoted in yesterday's Blog.....