Eat, Dammit!

I see folks gaining and losing and gaining the same 20-30 pounds over and over again
and I wonder why.

They go on a diet.
Lose the weight.
Look great.
Seem to feel great.
Buy some new clothes.

Then life happens.
That busy time of year happens.
Stress happens.
And the next time I see them they've gained it all back.

I suspect there's a diet misconception going on there.

Last night I was watching Project Runway with Marni and of course Weight Watchers commercials came on.
I imagined the taste of their frozen desserts and felt nauseated.

Granted, I used to love those things.
Those fakey, processed, sweet, carboard-y treats that are supposed to make us feel satisfied as if we'd eaten an actual dessert.

You've seen the portion sizes on those things and not just their desserts. Their meals too.
Who could feel satisfied on such tiny, phoney food??
Then they preach "portion control" and try to make us feel like gluttons for still being hungry.

I have a feeling, that that's what the chronic losers and gainers are falling for when they go on a diet.
They think "portion control" means eating teeny-tiny sized packaged crap in the name of some deprivational, commercial diet.

They want a snack so they eat one of those pathetic 100 calorie packs that wouldn't satisfy a gerbil.
Then they wonder why they go off their diet and gain back weight.

THEY'RE HUNGRY!!

Imagine a fakey, frozen serving of strawberry diet cheesecake (Smart Ones or whatever).
Tiny.
Fake.
Too many ingredients to name or even pronounce.
Disappears in a minute and leaves you wanting more.

Now imagine a giant bowl of fresh fruit (whatever appeals to you: strawberries, raspberries, apple slices, melon slices, pear slices, blueberries, cherries....just as long as it's FRESH not frozen or canned).
Imagine some nice low fat yogurt or fat free jello pudding.
Throw some low fat high fiber cereal into the mix.
Now eat a big bowl of it.

Feel better?
Sure you do!

And that's not a diet.
That's how we can eat for life.
Satisfy our dessert cravings.
Nourish ourselves with actual nutritious FOOD
and feel FULL rather than deprived.

Snack time?
Ok, imagine a prepackaged miniature serving of some diet snack.
I don't know what they're selling these days, fakey cheez-its, fakey flavored popcorn, who knows.
You eat the little elf sized portion but it's not enough.
You still want to snack.

Now imagine 5 nice big round flavored rice cakes.
Or a giant bowl of air popped popcorn with fat free grated cheese sprinkled on top.
How about a bowl of shredded wheat with some seasoned salt on top.
Some Wasa perhaps.
That's a snack.

I think diets give people too little food.
They don't nourish.
The food is fake and low fiber and not at all satisfying.

Real food, food for life, is filling, abundant, nutritious and will never, ever make you fat.

I think people need to make SMALL CHANGES in their lifestyles to take off weight and keep it off.
Instead of eating a bag of Skittles, why not some Honey Nut Cheerios?
Instead of fried crap like fries or chicken fingers, why not some hot wings or low fat veggie pizza?
Instead of a candy bar, how about an Odwalla bar or Granola bar?

Trade regular soda for flavored water or diet soda or tea.
Use fat free half and half or skim milk in your coffee.
Use whole grain bread instead of white bread.
Sugar free ice pops instead of ice cream.

But for heaven's sake EAT!!
Not eating doesn't work.
It leads to yo yoing.
It leads to hunger.
It leads to failure.

Last night Marni and I ate Rotisserie chicken, whole wheat pasta with veggies and a three bean salad (no oil).
We ate till we were stuffed.
Think we'll gain weight?
No.
Of course not.

I ate a the chicken first to fill me up with good, lean protein.
Chowed generously on the three bean salad.
Then picked at the pasta.
For dessert we had
caramel corn rice cakes and sugar free ice pops.

We were nice and full.
Nourished.
Satisfied.

No diet could ever make me feel that way.

*Movement for Motivation*
Charming.
You can't help but smile when you watch this!
And they do it in the kitchen in a teeny tiny bit of space!!!
Love it.
Click here or click below...

Moods subject to Change

“The heart loves,
but moods have no loyalty.
Moods should be heard
but never danced to.”
~ Hugh Prather

Real Men of MSU Calendar launch party with
Goddess of the Center for Student Involvement, Julie
and Goddess of everything else, me.

Post kickboxing power pic.

I wouldn't have kickboxed if it weren't for my Vixens!!
The real Vixens declined to be photographed due to being sweaty after workout.

The storm cloud of meaninglessness is passing.
It took a little work on my part, I think.
I can't be sure if time would have changed my mood or if my proactiveness changed it.

I was in a deep funk yesterday.
I didn't care about much.
I didn't want to participate in life
and I hated that I felt that way.

There was a party at school to celebrate the release of the Real Men of MSU Calendar created by the Center for Non-Violence and Prevention Programs team.
They're good folks who do good work.
Plus it was a networking opportunity
and they had a nice buffet.

Rather than sit at my computer marinating in my funk and dirty hair,
I made up my mind to go to school.
Showered, put on make-up, dangly earrings and a smile and dragged my sorry ass to campus.
I'm glad I did.

Being with people picked me up.
Having to ACT like I was happy, sociable, interested and nice made me
BECOME happy, sociable, interested and nice.

Heard some great speeches.
Saw some folks I hadn't seen in a while.

Food was good.
Didn't have an appetite so I took food home.

Then I went to my kickboxing hour with the Vixens.
They were a little mopey.
It didn't matter. I was still happy to see them.

By the time I got home I felt more alive. I was looking forward to today when I would see my students.

Sartre says, "Hell is other people."
There are times when I agree.

Then sometimes, other people are just what I need.

Yesterday, they made me feel like living.

And as a bonus for being in a better mood, while looking for a Vixens image to go with today's blog I found this...

I don't know if that's a new character (left) or if that's Light wearing glasses.
Oh, please let it be the latter!

*Movement for Motivation*
I took home some fresh fruit, chicken, and sesame crackers from the party and felt good after eating.
Food affects mood.
I swear.
Back in the day when I was eating fast food and fried crap my overall feelings were kinda miserable every time I ate.
Just like this girl...
click here or click below


Yesterday's activity: one hour of kickboxing with the Battle Vixens!! Woot!

This World is Love

Oh, look! It's a capsized Zeeeek!!!

Grouchy, emo workout at Russ Hall.

I deliberately washed myself out in these two pics cuz that's how I was feeling at the time.
Washed out.

Why bother taking pics of myself if I'm an emo grouch?
To prove to myself that I was there.
Bad mood and all, I showered, dressed, went out into the world and kept my word to the Vixens to meet for Butts and Guts at Russ Hall for our hour of pain.

I can look at my emo, grouch pics and know that I did what I said I would do.
Then I feel less washed out.

Moods are subject to change.
That's what keeps me going when I'm feeling like this.
I know it's temporary.
I have hope that this too shall pass.

Except for my love problems.
I don't have much hope there.

I look at my Vixens (my gorgeous, young, former students who love me and motivate me).
As young and beautiful as they are, they have trouble connecting romantically.
Too often they lament their broken heart troubles.
Lots of near misses.
Miscommunications.
Mixed signals.
Rejections.
Unrequited love.

And they're beautiful.
And beguiling.
I love listening to them.
I love the sound of their voices.
Their youthful vocabulary.
I love looking at them.
I love hearing about their lives.

It's not like they're pretty to look at with no substance.
They have substance!
They're darling!
They're delightful!

So what's the problem?

Why the difficulty finding the love and affection that they (we all) crave?

I don't get it.

Looking at them failing over and over again zaps my hope.
If THEY can't get it together with the objects of their affection, what hope is there for me??

But since we are all looking for love, it makes me wonder what the problem really is.
Why the near misses?
Why the disappointments?
Why does one person feel one way but the other person not so much?

Something unbalanced is at work here.
There's a knot to be untangled.
Something "off" in this whole game.

Deepak Chopra once made a clever analogy.
He said people who go around looking for love are like fish swimming around looking for water.

We're swimming in it, yet we can't find it.

I dunno.
I don't get it.

Maybe the answer is to stop looking.

*Movement for Motivation*
Wow, remember hopping?
Sproing, sproing, sproing.
I can't even remember the last time I hopped.
I would love to feel this light again.
Hop hop hop.
Here's hope for hopping!
click here or click below...

Yesterday's Activity: 1 hour butts and guts workout with the Vixens!

Others good. Others bad.

Hurley:	What's your problem man? Why...why don't you want this to work?
Sawyer:	I don't care if it works. Why's it so important to you?
Hurley:	Because...we could all use a little hope!

I'll start with the "bad".
There's a video of me on YouTube (click here) from a few days after my gastric bypass surgery in August of 2006. I weighed 360ish in the video. I was in terrible pain. High on perscription pain killers. Nauseated. Depressed from not being able to swallow my meds for over a week. Depressed in general. Going through withdrawals. Weak, feverish and emotionally wrecked.

Here's what some stranger decides to write as a comment on my video....

" .....and as an after thought dont cry about it now u knew what u were doing when u figured out u liked to eat two steaks instead of one..when the scale starts to pass 150 thats a fukin warning sign..time to switch from lays and doritos to rice cakes and saltines

eeee heee heee heee easy way out...u fat miserable fukk the question why u ate so many fukin twinkies in the first place u did do it to urself u fukin ate it didnt u u wouldnt put the fukin fork down would u thats what u got i bet ur well on ur way to gettin fat again to on a junk food binge u fukers need to just go on the hitler diet and STOP EATING !!"

Is that a kick in the teeth or what?
Why would a perfect stranger take the time to write, not one, but two, disgusting comments like that for me to read?
What kind of hate does a person have to feel in their soul to unleash it like that?
On me??

Sometimes people say I'm "brave" to put up videos of myself like that on YouTube. They say that opening myself up to cruel commentary like that takes guts.

No, not guts.

See, I've been trained to expect that kind of treatment from the world.

Ever since I stepped onto the first grade playground people have been cruel to me. The kids were calling me "Lisa Pizza" and "Garbage Can" since before I had my grown-up teeth.

I've been conditioned to accept cruelty, rejection and overall bad treatment from people since early childhood.
That person's ugly comments on YouTube don't surprise me at all.

What DOES surprise me are the kind things I hear from people.
The love I get from students.
The praise I get from readers.
I feel like I have everyone fooled.
When someone pays me a compliment I figure they saw something in me that isn't really there.
I must have faked it really well for them to have said something nice to me.
I enjoy the kind words then wait for the other shoe to drop, the real shoe, the shoe that says I'm a worthless loser, utterly talentless and unlovable.

I've been trying to pick myself up after a lifelong beating.
My self-esteem is so smashed up and patched together, it's a miracle I'm able to stand up in front of an audience or a classroom.
But it makes sense, too.
My smashed up patchwork self-esteem is so thirsty for approval, it takes an audience or classroom's full of people to even begin to make up for the deficit.

The genuine love tries hard to seep in and heal me
even when I fight it,
even when I suspect it.
Sometimes it reaches my heart and works its magic.

I'm blessed to have friends who love and accept me, for all my moods, for all my unpredictability, for all my loudness, and depression and mistakes.

Yesterday was a bad day. The depression, that thing I forget I have, kicked my ass pretty badly.

I've gotten so good at working around it, denying it, overcoming it, tricking it into submission that I forget about it.
Yesterday it won.
I suffered a crisis of meaninglessness so powerful I had to run on automatic to get through the day.
I barely knew who I was.

My friends came over. We watched LOST.
By the end of the night I felt better.
All it took was a little company and some non-judgmental acceptance to make me feel like living again.

Today I'm resting till the last possible minute then going to an aerobics class with the Vixens!!
The fact that they WANT to spend time with me blows my mind.
It was THEIR idea to work out with me today.
They sought out MY company.

I can't believe how fortunate I am.

I must have them fooled.

*Movement for Motivation*
This nurse is so awesome!
I thought she would poop out after a minute of this but she keeps going and going!
It's cute and funny, but it's also a serous workout!
The walking the chair across the room part is killer on the calves.
It's mood lifting, too.
click here or click below...

happiness takes work

I bet Hurley smells like vanilla patchouli and fabric softener.

Nah, it's not a post about LOST.
It's a post about happiness.
Well, indirectly it's about LOST since LOST makes me happy.

But happiness takes more than just being entertained.
That foundational happiness has to come from inner satisfaction.
Peace of mind.

Happiness takes work.
The base level contentment that comes from
a clean work area,
being caught up on bills and correspondence,
a clean, easy-to-walk-through apartment,
a full pantry,
an organized work week
and hope for the future
TAKES WORK.

I've had too much time to get into trouble lately with this damned bronchitis.
Too much time being sick means too little time keeping up with things.
Too much obsessing and worrying about nonsense (such as other people's behavior).
Too much nonsense means the little things in life end up in disarray.
The chi gets tangled up in knots.

I have to remember my basics.
When I take care of the basics, I'm happier.
When I make my life easier by being organized and caught up I'm happier.
BUT and you knew there was one coming, doing all those little organizational things is
boring,
uninteresting,
hard to start doing,
tedious,
not immediately satisfying
and
requires discipline.
Delayed gratification.

I had to write it down just now to remind me that GRATIFICATION DOES COME from forcing myself to do the little things that aren't fun.
Happiness DOES come from discipline and doing the boring, tedious tasks of life.

Feeling better takes work.

Hear that self?

Go do some work.

Clean up your life.

You'll feel better.

Trust me.

*Movement for Motivation*
Wanna stretch while lying in bed?
Here ya go!
click here or click below....

sleepy now

We look like what we do.
If I'm going to sit and sag then so is my body.
This is the year I'm going to train myself to be more active so I can look more active.
But not today.

Today I'm so tired I'm counting the minutes till I can get back into my bed.
Today I'm dreaming of being active while my body sleeps.

My mother took me to the drug store for cough medicine this morning. Thank God I still have my mother on this earth. I can still get me some mothering when I'm sick and desperate. I know I complain about her a lot but I am also grateful for her.

We went to one of our Chinese buffets for lunch. I savored the hot and sour soup which always tastes especially good when I'm feeling under the weather.

Driving home through downtown Passaic we passed a tangle of low-budget clothing stores. In the windows were headless mannequins in stretchy, form hugging outfits.
How flat their stomachs were.
Half out of it, eyes drooping, I looked at those plastic bodies and envied their uncomplicated abdomens.

One day.
One day.

I'll have a flat stomach too.
No more basket of eggs.
No more folded, hanging reminder of a lifetime's worth of overeating.
No more unsightly sack.

Work to do.
So much work to do.

But today, I rest.

*Movement for Motivation*
Good days and bad days don't matter.
Our average behavior does!
Notice the awesome tiger cat's tail on his desk.
We all need a cat mascot in our lives...
click here or click below

Pay check

This used to be my favorite picture of me. I'm dressed as "Miss DeMeanor" for Halloween, standing in the Philosophy and Religion seminar room in front of a poster of Husserl.
I was still an undergrad (1997ish).

What is happiness?
Waking up excited because I have something cool to do.
Something that I feel has a purpose.
Something ego gratifying.
Something fun.

I am so lucky to do what I do for a living.
I hope I never have to give it up.

My resume is in for a few different (awesome) full time jobs in student affairs.
It would be great if I could still teach a class or two when I get hired.
See how positively I'm thinking?
WHEN I get hired, not IF I get hired.
Ha!

It will be wonderful to have money.
To pay bills on time.
To never sweat the rent.
To buy new clothes.
To have food in my fridge and pantry at all times.
To never have to ask my parents for money ever again.
To have medical and dental.

To finally get paid what I'm worth.

It's no accident that I'm not earning my potential.
It's only recently that I felt like I DESERVE to get paid for my efforts.
Instead of standing in front of the classroom feeling like I'm not good enough, I have faith in myself.
All power to the students.

It's not my performance that makes me good, bad or whatever.
It's their reactions.
Last semester I was in the dumpiest classroom on campus.
We had a tiny TV with a VCR, no dvd, no big screen, not even any room to move.
The classroom was tiny and dusty.
Only one window opened.
The shades were falling off the windows.

And it was my best semester so far.

Never have I gotten so many emails, notes, wall posts, evaluations and Rate My Professor ratings with positive feedback than last semester. Even that great semester when they all chipped in and gave me the Playboy necklace (and lighter and giant signed card) didn't FEEL quite as super charged as last semester.

Do you know how many times the phrase 'I love you' appeared on their final exams last semester??
More than half. Well more than half.
95% of them thanked me, right there on their final exams.
The other 5% in follow up emails or conversations.
Yes, I know that adds up to 100%.
It's true.
I can prove it.

I told the new ones on Wednesday that I shoot for 100% satisfaction.
It's not ok to leave out even a single one of them.
I expect to reach every student, somehow, someway...(should I burst into song?).

Why am I so hard on myself?
Because I can be.

I have the rest of eternity to be dead.
In this little slice of life
this little blip of time
I can do something over the top
outrageous
meaningful
and if I'm good enough,
effective.

I can't imagine waking up to something that was any less exciting than this.

I am so very, very grateful.

Next stop, a paycheck that reflects what I'm worth...or close to it.

*Movement for Motivation*
This is incredible.
It's part of their culture.
Part of their morning.
Just something they all do together.
click here or click below

Power Failure

I am so glad that I'm willing to change.
Imagine making your mind up about something then staying so stuck in that opinion that you never allow for new possibilities?

For all the abuse I've suffered at the hands of medical professionals, all the misdiagnoses and other ill treatment, I'd adopted a really bad attitude toward medicine.
I viewed it as being alien to the holistic approach to health.
I've harbored a disdain for anti-biotics, over the counter symptom relievers and most medications (except my favorites of course).

Well, I've changed my mind.

Having bronchitis for the past week or so has taught me the benefits of over the counter symptom relievers like good ol' Nyquil and Tylenol.

See, I used to think that they didn't do any good, that they just masked the symptoms and didn't allow the body to heal.
If the body has a viral infection, it needs the mucus as an avenue to release the toxins, so mucus reducers make you sicker longer....I thought.
Tylenol reduces the fever, but isn't cooking the germs with high temperatures the best way to get rid of them?
I should stay fevered and let the germs cook and die....I thought.

This time around, I changed my thinking.
Instead of rejecting that line from the commercial, "...The Sniffling, Sneezing, Aching, Coughing, Stuffy-head, Fever, So-You-Can-Rest medicine..."
I took its advice.
And its medicine.

Then I rested.

Turns out, I DO rest better when I can breathe, when I have less mucus to contend with, when I have no fever, and I sweat the toxins out from a Tylenol fever flush rather than shivering without.

Turns out rest IS a great way to heal and symptom relievers helped me REST.
When I was too restless to sleep I took the Tylenol PM and Nyquil.
When I started to ache from chronic coughing, I took cough medicine.
I took herbal lung caps to clear out my lungs so I could breathe.

Turns out if you FEEL better you HEAL better. Go figure.

In a little while I'll be putting myself down for a nap with some serious medicine so my body can continue to heal.

But I'll be careful.

Poor Heath Ledger.
How depressed and sick does one have to be to accidentally overdose on meds?
Big, tough guy like him.
So young.
So sad.

Yesterday, I used some serious symptom relievers to prop myself up so I could meet my 80 new darlings, and they sure are darling!!

But I was sick. I knew I couldn't give my all.
Thank God Darren was there to help me when I ran out of air.
Thank God I had my videos....

and

then

the

power

went

out.

No lights.
No overhead camera.
No Vhs.
No DVD.
No nothin'.

Just some pale light from the windows.
Even my dry erase marker crapped out on me!

And on the day I really needed to conserve my voice and my energy.

I don't know how I did it.
I'm not sure where the energy comes from, but it comes.
They smiled.
They laughed.
It looks like I held their interest.
We had a good time.
After my Lisa-show in the morning class, I asked them if they had any questions.
A young guy said, "Yes. Will you marry me?"

It was a classic teaching moment.

Makes all my symptom relieving worthwhile.

I love my students.

*Movement for Motivation*
Sometimes the best way to clear out your lungs is to laugh!
This is gonna be me when I get my own office.
I hope my boss doesn't show up though like this guy's did.
click here or click below...

the Jealousy is a lie

"If I see you with another girl, I'll kill her."

~ Misa Amane to Light Yagame

A fellow blogger took down a post he had written about his irrational feelings of jealousy. He talked about how insecure and paranoid he felt whenever his wife took on a new venture outside the home, innocuous stuff like a yoga class or seminar. He said he pictured some rippling Nordic hunk seducing her away from him while he sat home, paranoid and jealous. He talked about how he KNEW his fears were irrational. He planned on exploring and processing those feelings... and then he deleted his post.

I didn't even have a chance to add my comment or read the comments from others.
I was disappointed.

As a woman who has been blogging about deeply personal issues for well over a year, I understand the POWER and CLARITY that comes from discussing these vulnerabilities openly.

We admit to them.
Other people usually say, HEY I'm just like that!
It's great to feel less freakish and alone.
Then we work through the emotions and come closer to peace and a more evolved way of approaching the issue. It becomes a human issue.
We're flawed.
We're not alone.
Then comes possibility.

But my boy
took down his post.

I was looking forward to his doing some of the spiritual work for me so I didn't have to.
Now I'll have to do it on my own, dammit.

Irrational jealousy.
It's a spiritual problem.
It comes from our illusion of separateness, ego.
The lover becomes object, something outside ourselves, something to be possessed and hidden from the world.
We see love as scarce, like a treasure that needs to be hoarded and hidden away from covetous creepers who would steal it from us.
The lover becomes the prize for which we must compete.
We feel compelled to vanquish all who would dare approach it.

Like little Misa says to Light, "If I see you with another girl, I'll kill her."
I understand.


I feel the same way.
If I see other girls paying attention to the object of my affection I FLIP OUT.
My insides boil with jealous rage.
I imagine them happy together while I'm left out, alone with my anger and rejection.

Tsk tsk tsk
Such maya, such illusion.

Intellectually I understand that love isn't like that.
I get a hold of myself.
It takes some deep breathing to calm down.

“Jealousy is a disease, love is a healthy condition.
The immature mind often mistakes one for the other, or assumes that the greater the love, the greater the jealousy - in fact, they're almost incompatible;
one emotion hardly leaves room for the other.
Both at once can produce unbearable turmoil...”

~ Robert A. Heinlein

What is jealousy really?
Could be fear of abandonment.
Could be a deep disatisfaction with ourselves projected onto another.

Whatever it is, it's painful.
It cripples us.
It blocks us from our infinite nature.
Usually we become unbearably possessive or obnoxious.
It shuts down our authentic love.

And I know all this intellecutally, yet inside me
I feel like Misa.

I want to scream the way Ripley did at the Queen Alien,

"Get away from (him) you b*tch!!"

and stomp around in my heavy load lifter with the giant clamps.

Breathe.
Breathe.
I tell myself
"it has nothing to do with you"
and
"be happy, other people appreciate that person, too, "
or
" if you truly love _______ you'll want others to love and appreciate them too"
and
"let go,
let go,
let go,
let go".

Jealousy is manipulative and possessive.
It wants to control and keep.
It is a cosmic mistake.

I know this,
but I need to know it in my bones.

"In possessiveness, ego defends itself against nothingness.
When we come to know and accept the nothingness at the core,
jealousy and the pain of obsessive attachment cease."

~ from Jealousy and the Abyss by William Pennell Rock

Let go
let go
let go.

*Movement for Motivation*
Tiny?
Submissive?
Helpless?
Oh, I don't think so.
This little Japanese girl will f*ck you up!
Click here or click below...

right things wrong reasons

I forgot to include this pic yesterday.

I mean, what can be more romantic than a
diabolical embrace flanked by death gods??

In this case the cake really WAS a lie!
haha
It was a beautiful creation to match the brown & blue themed decor.
Everything (everyone) was gorgeous at Raisa's party!

"According to a new survey, women say they feel more comfortable undressing in front of men than they do undressing in front of other women. They say women are too judgemental, where, of course, men are just grateful."
~Robert DeNiro quote from a student's Away message

I've been eating less since I've been sick.
Is it wrong of me to think that it would be great to have broken my scale-plateau from not eating much for a few days??
That kind of thinking seems disordered to me.

One more way to reduce calorie intake, yayy!
One more way to deny my hunger and get thin, yayy!
Cuz thin is better than the way I am now, yayyy!!

Ugh, I'm so sick of it.

I need a big reason to get a small body.
An eye-on-the-prize reason.

Yet, I want to do things right.
Right
right
right.

My eye on the prize reasons seem
wrong
wrong
wrong.

Too vain.
More about ego than health.

Then I think of Susan Powter.
She went from 250lbs to 120lbs back in the day to be revenge-hott because her husband left her for a younger, thinner, more childless woman.
That kind of vengeance seeking, that looking-good-is-the-best-revenge attitude fueled her weight loss and fitness success.

She admits that.

Can I just give myself permission to let an ego-driven reason like that be the one that fuels me?

Everything has to be just right with me.
That kind of perfectionistic thinking can't be healthy.

Wanting to do things healthy is good.
But if my real, deep down motivating reasons to lose weight and get fit are more about self-esteem, self-image and vanity, should I deny them?

I'm feverish and I feel like a big kook.
I need to embrace my inner kook.
Heck , my outer kook as well.

I just have to admit that I want to know what it feels like to be Hott and to know it at the time.
I look at past pictures of myself.
I had some deliciously gorgeous moments in my lifetime but my self-esteem was so poor I had no idea. I hung my head in shame and treated myself like crap.

I've had some really big, fat years of my life where I picked my head up and demanded better treatment from myself and the world.

Now, I'd like to combine, healthy, fit, hott and confident at least once before I die.

Healthy is gonna take some work.
I'm hawking up all kinds of lung gunk right now.
The fever is low grade and lingering.
I have to teach and meet my Spring students for the first time tomorrow.

Serious self-care is in order.

While I rest I'll be pondering the necessity of doing the right things for the right reasons.
I'll wonder what "wrong" really means.
I'll wonder if reasons have to be anything at all except effective for motivating action.

And then I'll dream of electric sheep.

*Movement for Motivation*
Triangle pose.
It's good for you.
Do triangle pose.
I will too, as soon as I'm better.
Click here or click below...

Fixation with Light

Oh, you thought I was gonna write about that beautiful stuff that radiates from the sun and makes things grow?
Nnnnnnnnnnah.

I could be writing about applying intention to the foods and pills we put into our mouths.
When I sip my hibiscus and rosehips tea in a few minutes I can picture it carrying the toxins out of my body and helping my liver and kidneys rid my body of the poisons that have settled in my lungs.

Sure I could tell you how the mind controls the body. That if you swallow your vitamins or meds in the morning with intention and picture them contributing to your well-being the mind will tell the body what to do with them.

All that stuff will be in the forthcoming book FLEXING POSSIBILITY by yours truly and Esmilda Abreu, author of Medical Evidence for Hypnosis.

In the meantime, let me talk about Light.
You don't need to know who he is, or follow the show to understand what I'm going to write about Light Yagami, the avenging, sorta hero from Death Note (even though everyone seems to be fixated on L, the lanky, emo detective who wants to foil Light. So far I like Light better, but I'll reserve final judgment till I've seen more episodes).

Eh, let's face it.
It's not even Light who's on my mind.
It's her.
It's Misa.
The love-her-or-hate-her lil' brat who falls in love with him....and, you know...kills people and stuff...to be able to meet him.

Is it a Japanese thing, the submissiveness?
I dunno.

I watched Episode 13 of Death Note, the dubbed version, then the subbed version because I needed to understand something that Light said to her.

In the dubbed version Light says to Misa,
"I can't be your boyfriend but I can act like it"

Hmph, I heard that and
I wondered how well he could act.
I wondered if he was like a method actor and would continue to act behind closed doors.
I wondered what the difference was between him ACTING like her boyfriend and BEING her boyfriend.

It was confusing.
And the whole thing is kinda exhibitionist and weird because both characters have their own personal Shinigamis (death gods) watching over their shoulders at all times.
Going to the bathroom and showering must be a creepy experience when you've got a Shinigami, but anyway...

For non-fans, are you intrigued enough to read a few lines of actual dialog from that scene?
Here it is


painstakingly transcribed (by me) from the subtitled version of Episode #13 "Confession":

Misa says, "One year ago my parents were killed by robbers right in front of my eyes.
I could not forgive them.
The trial lasted a long time.
They were eventually released at the end.
Then Kira avenged the murder of my parents for me.
For me Kira definitely exists.
By any means, by any means I wanted to meet you.
Please hold me tightly!!"

I'm watching this and I'm stunned by her submission.
She has a DEATH NOTE for crying out loud!
And her own, devoted Shinigami!
Socially unjust beauty standards aside, Misa Amane is beautiful!
She was on her knees, head down, in front of Light.

(I couldn't find a screencap of Misa on her knees with her head down, but in the upper right corner of the above composite, you can see her, I hate to say it...begging.)

Okay, so Kira responds first silently to himself and then out loud:

"You did all that just to meet Kira.
She even thought of counter strategies for the fingerprints and security camera. She is not as dumb as I thought.
Plus she said she would obey my orders."

I'm watching this, my mouth hanging open, I'm shocked, and I can't look away, or close my mouth.
I don't know whether to be appalled or what.
I'm intrigued, certainly.
Captivated, more like it.

This is a strange power negotiation between two avengers who have the power to kill people just by writing their names in a notebook.
Yet she keeps giving up part of her life just to be near him.
Why?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, he avenged the murder of her parents, but c'mon.
And what about this "hold me tightly" business?
Will he??

Poor little Misa.
Light does his mental cost/benefit analysis and decides he can use her.
He stand up, walks over to her...and holds her tightly.

I almost choked on my hibiscus tea.

Not only does he kneel down to her level and grab her, we hear a heavenly choir singing as the two characters embrace and are swathed in a glowing light.

Light says to her, "I understand. Even though I can't force my feelings, I'll try my best to be your boyfriend. To meet me, to become my power you sacrificed half of your life to get the eyes. You will be a powerful weapon."

Misa answers, "Thank you. I’ll try my best to become someone you will love for real."

I dropped my tea cup.
My inner feminist is screaming bloody murder. I don't like when fiction exaggerates the satisfaction of having male affection or male approval at all costs. This guy is offering to go through the motions of giving her what she wants so he can use her as a weapon. I was disgusted.

And yet the heavens opened up, choirs of angels sang and light surrounded them.

I know, it's just a show, but the feelings I have while watching it are real.
Something about the Light/Misa ship resonates with me.
It indicates some issue I have.

I feel like I've been lied to.
I've been watching romance stories in film and television since I was a kid.
Strong women don't get the guys.
Submissive women seem to win.
If we whine, sacrifice, compromise and beg, we get... what exactly?
Happily ever after?
A guy going through the motions?

What about strong women?
What about equal power?
When does that ever work?

Maybe anime isn't the best place to be looking for healthy male/female relationships.

But back to my being lied to.
I've laid down and "died" like Misa did....gee, well I've been doing that for 30+ years.
It's kinda scary how similar our patterns are.
First, obsess.
Then, knock myself out to get guy's attention.
Then, give up my Death Note and say, "If I am no longer useful to you, you can kill me..."
And of course, they do (rejection).

It doesn't work in real life.
It hasn't worked in real life.
Maybe there's a good reason it shouldn't work in real life.

Probably because the guy's I put up on a pedestal with stars in my eyes know they're mere mortals. I think they feel like I'm building them up to be more than what they are. They know, deep down, that they'll never live up to the exaggerated, superhero persona I have of them.
It's not authentic love I have for them.
It's my need for a superhero, projected onto the unfortunate mortal of the moment who knows in advance that once I stop shining the warm light of my admiration upon them they will be left shivering in the cold.

I don't think my problem is, "Oh woe is me, no man appreciates me,"
as much as it's
BE MY EVERYTHING NOW NOW NOW
that isn't working.

Real men aren't superheroes.

They're not Light Yagami.

*Movement for Motivation*
Our bodies do what we tell it to do.
Check out this little girl who has cerebral palsy.
She's doing what she "shouldn't" be able to do.
Click here or click below...

self nurse

Nathan: You’re meant to do a lot of things, Peter.
Saving the world isn’t one of them.
You gotta learn to recognize when life is bigger than you are.
You’re not a fighter but that’s okay, the world needs nurses, too.


That shirt has been my uniform lately.
Darren tells me I look like I'm wearing scrubs in the wrong color!

It's difficult to love my body when it's giving me such grief. I have to be my own nurse when I'm sick.

I alternate between shivering and perspiring. It's important to keep changing my clothes to get the sweated-out toxins off of me.

In my mind I imagine a kind woman in blue scrubs taking away my sweaty nightgown and sheets and replacing them with a nice dry cotton shirt and fresh linens.

Making a pot of tea, I imagine someone else is doing it for me.
Taking my meds, I picture a nurse's aid presenting me with a little plastic cup full of pills and a fresh cup of water.

I play that little game in my head so I feel taken care of, loved and not so alone.
Granted, I am not alone.
My friends offer to shop for me.
My mother offers to bring me food and medicine.
Marni is coming over with groceries later.

It's the nurse stuff, the being kind to the body stuff, the keeping myself clean and comfortable that I have to do on my own and makes me sad and lonely.

It feels better to have someone else taking care of me.

That was one of the good things about being in the hospital, the caring.
Hit the nurse buzzer and someone came in the room to make me feel better.

At home, living alone, it's all up to me.

My apartment is a little messy and it's bothering me.
I'll straighten it up a little at a time.
Being in clean, organized surroundings makes me feel better.
It gives me room to heal.

There's sweat pouring down my back as my fever breaks.
I'm feeling wet and icky.
Time to ring for the nurse
and
here I am.

*Movement for Motivation*
I make excuses for not being more serious about learning self-defense.
I tell myself I'm too fat, too out of shape, not ready...blah blah blah.
From this 11 second video, I learned that movement and martial arts
are for everyone.
I have no excuse.
Click here or click below...

defeating self defeat

Raisa's 20th birthday.
I was sick but I dragged myself out because I love Raisa.
Oh, yeah, and there's Darren.

I feel like crap.
I have a bad cough, a fever, chills and a stuffy head.
But, I don't want to complain.
I JUST WANT TO FEEL BETTER!

Alllllllll friggin' break I've been fine.
Now, school starts in a mere 2 days and I'm sick?

I'm angry.
I want to blame someone or something for how crappy I feel.

I need to take better care of myself.

Can you believe I'm actually blaming myself for getting sick?

Could have taken my vitamins more consitently...
That juicer on top of the refrigerator isn't going to use itself...
Drink more water instead of coffee...
Go to the gym instead of taking grouch walks in the cold...
Eat more citrus fruit...
You're sick because you're lazy and you have laundry to do...

Sheesh!

Self blame is a bitchy habit to break.
Even if all of the above were true,
the blaming part,
the making myself wrong is self-defeating and I know it.

So what do I do?
I blame myself for blaming myself.

Should
should
should
should have
should.

My self talk needs an overhaul.
And I need some tea and some sleep.
I can't blame me for that.

*Movement for Motivation*
Yes, they're females.
Yes, they are incredibly awesome.
Makes me want to do whatever it takes to be as strong and agile as they are.
I may be a long way off but,
gotta start somewhere, right?
Click here or click below...

Meet Nerdy the Ninja.
He kicks self-blame right in the arse!

Cloverfield - not a movie review

It was huge and menacing and really pissed off. The monster in Cloverfield rampaged around destroying Manhattan with all the requisite running and dying by desperate, frightened people.
Oh, how I loved it.

I even loved the audience.
We went to the midnight show.
Matt and I were part of the minority, 1% of people over age 25 in the entire theatre.
We arrived an hour early to secure our place on line and score the best seats in the house.
A safe estimate would be about 60% of the people were 20year-old-ish males wearing glasses. No lie.

When they let us into the theatres (they showed it on two screens) about 50% of them sat waiting for the previews to start holding their little light up screens, entertaining themselves and each other. The girl in front of me had her DS, another had his blackberry, there were cel phones and Ipods and all kinds of high tech gadgets flickering in the semi-darkness.

I eavesdropped on their conversations. I noticed something. These kids are multi-taskers. They can carry on conversations with the people sitting with them, play a hand held game AND answer texts and emails in between. Their attention spans run on broadband.
They're amazing.

The crowd was pretty geeky overall which meant they were seriously well-behaved during the film. The males gave their appreciative "whoa!"s and the girls shrieked at just the right times. (I screamed at least a dozen times but I kept my face in my shirt to muffle my cries).

Many of them stayed till the credits finished rolling just to hear that one last ________ (no spoily). Then they argued with each other over the merits of the movie. One exchange between two guys was classic.
"That was the worst! I can't believe you liked that!"
"Yeah, well the reason YOU didn't like it is because YOU SUCK."

Hilarious.

I can't wait for school to start so I can meet my 80 new ones
and see some old ones, too.

P.S. I didn't even miss the movie popcorn (formerly my favorite food in the whole world).
I munched on nuts and Odwalla bars. I was perfectly content.

*Movement for Motivation*
This is SO gonna be me only I'm getting the glove controllers!
They DO have boxing glove controllers for this, don't they?
click here or click below

Poet trah

On page 100 of "Flexing Possibility"!

Performing my original poetry at PIANOS in Bloomfield, NJ.

The Three Muses!
Poet, Amanda Cusumano,
singer-songwriter, Becca Hasselbrook
and me!

Esmilda (author of Medical Evidence for Hypnosis, co-author of our forthcoming book, FLEXING POSSIBILITY) and I were talking about our attitude toward female anime characters. Mind you she's a to-the-core feminist, Director of the Women's Center and Equity and Diversity Programs at my university, a professor of Women's studies and an activist for positive body image and self esteem.

Yet we both admit, we have a conflicted, yet definite fascination with the ladies of anime. Esmilda is intuitive, analytical and all around smart. She wondered out loud if our attraction to these girls might have something to do with their fantastical qualities. These girls are so unreal yet we want to "play" with them the same way we did with Barbie and Dawn. Their bodies are out of proportion and physically unattainable by mortal humans yet we want, want, want to look AT them.


I commented that at sci-fi/anime conventions I've usually seen chubby women dressing as these characters, having modified the costumes to accommodate their larger frame. See a zaftig Misa below...

So it wasn't that the little ladies of anime were part of some exclusive, skinny girl domain. They appealed to girl-geeks and girl-geeks, like guy-geeks, have a tendency to be a little large (Hey, we're intellectuals, readers, writers, GAMERS! Give us a break!)

Concluding that we didn't see ourselves reflected, mirrorlike, in these characters, we wondered if the anime drawing style had something to do with our fascination. With their giant heads and big round eyes they kinda have the shape of human babies. It might be a biological mother-instinct kicking in whenever we look at them.


Whatever the reason
his heart or his shoes
he stood there on Christmas Eve
hating the Whos....

Whatever the reason for our fascination, one thing is for sure: we aren't neutral about these images. They affect us. They get under our skin. They make me want to play dress up. They make me want to hang pictures and collect maquettes, the grown up version of playing with dolls.



Last night I performed at an Open Mic for the first time in, jeez, has to be 6 years, right?
As a professor, I'm used to being in front of the room.
As a Leo, I'm a natural performer.
I get stage Excitement rather than stage fright.

I performed three original works of poetry. First No Fat Chicks (click here), then a poem about the late Anna Nicole back in her fat days, and one about Nichiren Buddhism.
Basically, the poems I chose to read last night were about body image and being a heavy person in an unforgiving world.

It felt like a tough room.
There were folks screeching and talking. The bar itself was kind noisy. I could have sworn I hear some heckling.

It wasn't like teaching where I have the right to SHUSH them and demand their attention. This audience's attention was voluntary. Not everyone volunteered.

When I was finished, I felt like I would never try it again, and then people started to approach me.

One woman came up to me, grabbed my hand and told me, specifically, which lines of my poem she identified with.

Another woman, a singer who performed S'Wonderful (quite well), told me about her 16 daughter who had an eating disorder and how she understood the struggle to be ok with oneself.

Another woman told me she loved my poems and that they were "poignant".

A few men expressed their appreciation and approval.

They were the quiet ones in the audience.
They were the ones who listened.

I have to remember that the hecklers and rowdies are not the whole room.
The kind appreciators, at open mics, at school and in life, are the ones who take extra effort to notice, but they're there, appreciating.

I haven't written poetry in a while.
Maybe it's time to start up again.

I've certainly lived through enough in 6 years.

I bet I have something to say.

Maybe something about females in anime...

*Movement for Motivation*
This is what it looks like to be fat, sedentary and suddenly be inspired to get up and dance!
This beautiful round grandma in Granada gets up and shakes it!
What's stopping us??
Click here or click below...

Can I just mention? To hell with skittish American guys. In so many other countries, full figured women are looked at like they're sexy bombshells.
I need to travel.

permissive

Here's what I look like when I'm writing a book!

Here's what I look like when I'm taking a grouch walk at 8:00 at night!

For someone who is so insecure about her looks, I sure do take a lot of pictures of myself!

Yeah, I take a lot of pictures of myself, but you mostly see the flattering ones.
90% of them get baleeeted!

The flattering ones stay. The unflattering ones get del-teeted into oblivion.

I only want to see what makes me feel good about myself.
Maybe there's nothing wrong with that.
Maybe choosing to see, hear, believe what make me more confident is ok because it inspires me to accomplish things.
Confidence leads to productivity.
Whatever it takes, right?

Dwelling on my faults never inspires me to action. It shuts me down.
Dwelling on what needs to be changed doesn't make me want to change. It makes me want to hide.

Negative input de-motivates me.
Encouragement and positive feedback makes me want to come out of hiding and live!

I don't think I'm alone in this. I think many of us respond better to positive feedback rather than criticism.

Encouragement is like air to a fire. It makes the fire grow and roar!
Criticism is like dumping water on a flame then yelling at it to "burn!! what's the matter with you, burn!!"

It doesn't work.

Self-talk is the same way. When I'm beating myself up for, well, everything, I want to curl up on the couch and do nothing.

When I'm gentle and permissive, I usually choose to take care of myself.

Last night, I was tired and not at all in the mood for my grouch walk. By the way, that's what makes it a grouch walk, the tiredness and moodiness and not wanting to do it.

I let myself off the hook.
I told myself, "you don't have to take a walk if you don't want to. School's starting next week. You'll be working out with the Vixens soon enough!"

The next thing I did was grab my camera and put on my sneakers. I really can't even tell you why.

It wasn't about losing weight.
It wasn't about keeping my word.
It wasn't about doing the right thing.

It certainly was NOT about wanting to take a walk.
I wasn't really in the mood to walk.

It was simply time to take a walk.

Maybe it's become a habit.

*Movement for Motivation*
Ever hear of Gamerobics??
These girl-nerds are so darn cute I could scream, and I did.
I love when the youngins pick up a camera and do crazy, creative things like this.
And they finish up with some DDR.
I am ALL about the Gamerobics right here!
Too cute!
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's activity: 20 minute grouch walk.

Love, love, love <3 (I less than three you)

Super duper grouch walk in the rain, but I enjoyed it.

Sellin' a Wii. Brand new!
Support my sell-a-couple-of-Wii's
so I can buy-a-Wii project at
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=190190813661

It's almost time to get back to school.
Yipee!!!
My Vixens are ready to kick it into gear.
Mike (our only male Vixen)
texted me and said,
"I am SO excited to get back to the gym.
And this semester we have to push ourselves even harder.
And eat better.
And maybe fight crime lol."

Yes, we are workout superheroes!

How great is this age group (traditional age college students)?
I love them, for many reasons, but especially because they are such exhibitionists.
Ever been on Facebook?
They put themselves out there.
They make plans with one another on each others "walls"
they flirt,
they curse,
they post pictures and videos.

They are adorable and I adore them.

I'm fascinated by their behavior and I truly, truly love them.
That's why I'm the perfect fit for a full time position in student affairs.
I truly love the students and I care.
I really, really care.

I wish more folks who work at universities felt that way about them.
Too many people who work with this age group seem downright hostile toward them.

One professor wrote in her blog about how she looks at her students in their outdoor gear and boots (I think she was describing Ugg boots) and wanted to tell them to go out and have a real adventure instead of sitting home with their video games and computers.
She had a real "these kids today..." attitude.

Sometimes I hear rants about how they're always on their cell phones and how no one talks one on one anymore.
They sound like that Saturday Night Live skit, "Back in my day we walked barefoot in the snow to school for 10 miles each way, ate dirt for lunch and weeeeeee loved it!"

I had a colleague once who said, "Oh, I'm really not good with emails, I prefer face to face conversations."
He's got to be kidding me.
If you're not good at emails, get good.
That's how people communicate.
Emails, texts, IMs, social utilities and blogs.
How rude to expect other people to communicate in only one way.

Times are changing.
People use their thumbs to communicate.
And I don't mind.

I'm a moody, sometimes private (sometimes downright shut-in) person.
I want to socialize when I'm in the mood.
When I'm not in the mood, I prefer to be left alone, but I'll always be ok with electronic communication.
My face to face, one on one interactions have never been as good as they are right now.
All the electronical communicating has helped me to be able to schedule quality time with people and get out of the house.
I'm happy with the way things are.

Folks like me who suffer from mood disorders do very well in this electronic age.
When we need to retreat, we can, while still being connected.

I have the "kids" to thank.
Darren (not really a kid at all) got me to use my cell phone instead of leaving it in my purse for emergencies.
Noelle was one of the first students to text message me.
Mike was the one who showed me how to use the 'word' function so I could text more quickly.

I LOVE texting.

On Christmas morning my cell phone kept chiming with beautiful Merry Christmas messages from my students, same for New Year's Eve.
Chime, chime, chime,
love love love.

How delightful!

The students are amazing. They have fresh, unsullied, glowing ideas about life, goals, dreams, love and the divine.

It is my privilege to be part of their lives.
I learn from them.
I'm inspired by them.
I get energy from them.
And they tell me they love me, which makes me want to keep on living.

Thank God they're coming back to campus this week.

How I've missed them.

*Movement for Motivation*
These students found a way to work out in a confined space.
How cute are they??
I love the way they fall down laughing at the end.
What's not to love about these kids!!
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's activity: 20 minute grump walk in the rain.

No Blood

"When you finish losing all your weight you WILL look like an anime character cuz you got those big round eyes."

~ Anonymous

I am so anemic today I can barely move.
Time to enact some discipline in the area of taking my iron pills and vitamins.

Blood.
I remember needing two bags of it after the surgery.
Someone else's blood.
I wonder how much of it is still in me?

My blood may be thin but it's clean.
No more sugar (my blood sugar was a mere 150 in the a.m.)
no more cholesterol
no cloggy saturated fat.

I should be free and full of energy!

I am getting well, but it's uncomfortable.
I feel like I am so much better at being sick.

Today?
Waking up with cramps and weakness?
Noooooooo problem.
Pop a few pills and go back to bed.
Blessed sleep.
Siezed by the evil Baron Von Wunder Nappen zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Wellness?
That requires feeling good about being alive.
I'm still learning that part.

Left to my own devices I don't feel I'm ready to be well well.
In other words,
I need a job.

For now, I need that structure for my day, an outlet for my energy, a schedule, a place to drag myself even when I'm feeling sluggish.

I think I've rehabbed myself to the point where I can perform at a full time level.

Last week, my colleague and I worked HARD on the book.
We sat,
we wrote,
we conquered.
I arrive at our designated writing place at 10am and leave around 2pm.
But at 2pm, I'm tired.
If I had to continue working I would need a boost of some sort: a ritalin, a Red Bull, a vat of coffee, deep breathing and a nice stretch....or a nap.

Now, in this working-part-time-and-writing-when-I-feel-like-it stage of my life, I have the luxury of taking a nap in the middle of the day.

What about as a full time worker?
I'm fantasizing about having a couch in my office for the afternoon nap-o-rama.

But I should know better than to fantasize about that.
I could envision an afternoon full of energy and light.
I could fantasize about abundant energy and perkiness.
Why the hell am I fantasizing about sleeping?

Could be the blood.
Could be the fear.
Could be habit.

I dunno.

Right now I'm dizzy. I'm fantasizing about hitting 'Publish Post' and getting back to bed.
Right now, I don't think it's my limited vision.
I think it's my limited Blood.

*Movement for Motivation*
Cartoons are good for you.
Watch Emile workout!
Click here or click below...

Misa Misa the anti-Lisa

Misa Amane, character from the anime series, Death Note, is a teen idol who is immature, tends to refer to herself in the third person (Misa-Misa), is completely devoted to Light/Kira and once said that she loved him at first sight (Lisa rolls her eyes).

I was dizzy, tired, grumpy and not feeling well. I had every reason to stay inside and skip my grouch walk. Don't ask me how I got off the sofa and outside. It had something to do with remembering what I had written in this blog about feeling better for having done something rather than not.
Hmph, go figure.
I guess that makes me self-motivated.

Misa Amane, that little bitch.
She infuriates me.
She makes me so mad I want to throw large pieces of peeled fruit at her when she's on screen.

I know maybe you could expect some sort of feminist rant about her submissive devotion to Light "Kira" Yagami.
Maybe you could expect me to rant about her pervert-pleasing little-girl-kinky-whore outfits.
I could bitch about how she's not the brightest bulb in the battery-operated Menorah and how all the great anime heroes are male and blah blah blah.

But, no.
That's not why I want to choke her.

Misa infuriates me because I'm jealous (and for fans of Death Note, you'll get the irony.)

Hi Tia!

Tia, fan of Death Note (Lisa bows deeply).

Although I have plenty of legitimate, feminist ammunition to rip little Misa to shreds, I'd be lying if I said that social justice was my motivation.
No, it's not my inner pop-culture critic that wants to choke her.

The truth is...
I envy her.

Jealous, a Shinigami death god (Oh, yeah. A frikken god!) falls in love with Misa who is a pop idol in the human world. Jeaolous (or Gelus) watches over her. He falls in love with her and for anyone of us who has ever stalked a Facebook profile or a MySpace space or had an obsessive crush on a celebrity (or a mere mortal) you know how Jealous feels.
He gives his own life,
turning himself into a wisp of sand,
to save Misa, dying tragically for the love of her.

My question is, why??
Why dammit why?

Misa is a dipshit.

Misa's most endearing quality is that she's CUTE.
And that's what pisses me off.

She doesn't have to work on herself,
earn a degree or two or three (ahem),
she doesn't live a disciplined life,
she doesn't suffer except for her love of Light (Kira) which ends up costing
people THEIR lives as she maneuvers to impress him,
she's
she's
STUPID!

Stupid but cute.
Cute, cute, cute.
sigh
Hell, I even think she's cute.
And as much as they dress her like a tarty little bimbo, I love her outfits.
She's a living fashion doll, an idol.
Childish and adorable.

What's not to love?
Except that she has no depth of character.
Not enough for my tastes, anyway.

And yet a Shinigami (two really) are willing to die for her.
Gods.
Gods love her.

It's just not fair.

I could complain that I work so damned hard on myself and that I DESERVE to be loved for who I am and boo hoo why doesn't some death god love me that way.
But it's not some random injustice inflicted on me by an uncaring universe.
This is my karma.
The karma I've created.
Truth is, I don't want someone to love me because I'm cute (or maybe someday I'll be cute or something...)

I get mad and ask:
Is that all I have to be, cute?
Cute and stupid to get love?

How ridiculous.
It's ridiculous that she gets to live that kind of adventure and be LOVED like that without having earned it in any way.

But if someone loved me for the wrong reasons, I would be unhappy.
So why the hell am I complaining?

Yeah, I'm jealous because, love or no love,
I'll never be a cute 20 year old (again).
And at 43, no matter how much weight I lose, how much plastic surgery I have, how I dress, "cute" isn't all that attainable for me anymore in this lifetime.

Who wants to be "cute" anyway?
Well, I I guess I do or I wouldn't be bitching.
I want adventures.
I want Shinigami to die for me.
I want L and Kira to worry about my next move but not for the love of my cute bustier and boots but for who I AM!

Damned anime characters.
Love me, dammit!

Please don't write me comments telling me to stop whining.
It's my Blog and I'll whine if I want to.

Point is,
it feels good to let my anger out.
It doesn't have to matter whether my anger is justified.
My anger is not staying inside me and that's progress.

It doesn't even matter if I'm "really" angry at little Misa or if that's a comfortable deflection of my anger over something else.

I'm not stuffing my anger in with food.
I'm not punishing myself with food.
I'm not trying to destroy myself because I think I'm not good enough.

I'm expressing myself.

"This is me expressing MYYY self!"
- Joanna (Jennifer Anston) flips the bird at her boss (Mike Judge) in a scene from Office Space

Now I feel better.
Misa Misa the anti-Lisa.
Dippy and dolly.

BUT...and we all love a Japan-imated butt...
there are aspects of her that are just like me.
And what is it that we are least able to tolerate in other people?
That's right, those qualities that we dislike about ourselves.

"If there are aspects of yourself that you don’t like, the tendency will be to dislike those same things in others.
In fact psychologists talk about “projection” where we dislike some part of our personality so much that we actually refuse to admit it exists....
But we still see the same characteristic in others, and so we “project” our unacknowledged “dark side” onto them.
So a lot of our ill-will towards others is actually a dislike of ourselves."
~ Buddhist teaching found on Wildmind

Misa is obsessed with Kira (Light Yagami, cuz we know Kira is a title not a name).
She imitates him to try to impress him (oh no, do I feel some skipping coming on??)
She's obsessively crushing on him.
Knocking herself out for him.

sigh

Oh, how I loathe her.

*Movement for Motivation*
How do you get gamers and anime-niacs off their asses first thing in the morning?
That's right.
Wakey wakey exercises!!
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's activity: took my grouch ass for a 20 minute walk.

chilly chi

My really clean refrigerator!

I miss the students!! Can you tell?

I did a good thing for myself yesterday.
I cleaned out my refrigerator.

I don't remember EVER cleaning out a refrigerator, any of the ones I've had in my entire lifetime.
This was a big deal.

I actually took the shelves out and washed them in the sink,
washed the interior walls of the refrigerator,
washed the fruit and vegetable bins,
cleaned up the remains of caked on spills,
threw away stale condiments,
old salad dressings,
left overs,
jams,
jellies,
and old boxes of baking soda.

I didn't stop there.
I took the resulting 2 giant bags of garbage out to the dumpster.

It felt great.
The refrigerator chi is really flowing today.

You can see what I eat.
Soy milk for my steaming barrels of morning coffee,
soy cheese that I use to top off my interesting pots of Lisa stew, Lisa soup, Lisa quiche and the occasional Lisa pasta (meaning I cook the food from scratch, not like it's Soylent stew, soup, quiche or pasta).

You see my arsenal of fat free Stonyfield Farm yogurts, fat free Jello pudding, sugar free Jello, fresh yellow peppers, tart green apples, honey turkey, Odwalla juices, energy drinks, celery, fat free ricotta, egg beaters, pickles, vinegar, soy sauce, three kinds of mustard, 12 grain bread and whole wheat tortillas.

Nice, clean chi energy flowing all around my food.
Beautiful evidence of my effort at self-care.

No quagmire to clog my perception of what's possible in my refrigerator space.

I believe my state of mind reflects in my surroundings...
and vice versa.

Karen Kingston, author of the book "Clear Your Clutter with Feng Shui" says that clutter accumulates when energy stagnates, and, likewise, energy stagnates when clutter accumulates."

I believe her.
When I used to live in squalor, I felt like crap, physically and emotionally.
When I felt like crap, physically and emotionally, my apartment was a disgusting mess.

Carrying around 130 extra pounds, high blood sugar, sleep apnea, arthritis and every other damned thing that caused me pain and suffering made cleaning almost impossible.

Back then, cleaning was a rare event and only done out of dire necessity.
I remember a friend once asked if I had gotten a new carpet.
"No," I told them, "I vacuumed today."

That's how filthy, furry, dusty and disgusting my rug used to get.
Vacuuming made it look like I had gotten a new rug, there was such a drastic difference.

Nowadays, my apartment isn't spotless.

It's better than it was and getting better every day.

I would never let my carpet get as bad as it used to.
Tolerating a filthy carpet is no longer acceptable to me.
I vacuum every day.

Up until yesterday, I tolerated a gunked up refrigerator (brand new, gift from mother bought immediately after my surgery in 2006).
Looking at the filth became unbearable.
I was worthy of a clean refrigerator.
I AM worthy of clean surroundings.

Not spotless, but improving.

Today I tolerate dust, a floor that needs mopping, laundry that needs doing.

But the sink is empty, no dirty dishes.
The cat box is clean.
The pillows on my guest couch are attractively arranged.
This morning I scrubbed my toilet.

Just like me,
things have improved, there is still room for improvement and things ARE improving.

As it should be.

*Movement for Motivation*
Pro-exercise Commercials from the Ministry of Health.
Hilarious!
Click here or click below...

grumps and gifting

Montclair State University quad.
View from the steps of the Student Center.
Devoid of life.
Talk about a crisis of meaning!

Marni came on a grouch walk with me last night!! Yay!! And then we ate quiche.

The great thing about grouch walking is you can do it any time. No preparation needed. No driving anywhere. It requires very little motivation.

Calling it a "grouch" walk frees me up to walk no matter what mood I'm in.
And once I'm walking I'm either less grouchy or more walky.

It's all good.

Marni and I must be in good shape because we were walking up and down stairs behind the apartments and were still able to converse.

Marni was commenting on the pervasiveness of women who have problems with flaky, emotionally skittish, commitment-phobic men who send mixed signals (whether they're sending them intentionally or not...and if they're sending mixed signals UN-intentionally I suspect their subconscious is at work).

I told her what Esmilda said (Director of MSU Women's Center and Equity and Diversity Programs, Esmilda Abreu, the author of "Medical Evidence for Hypnosis" and soon to be Ph.D. with whom I am writing "Flexing Possibility").

Esmilda compared women's stuckness in the He's Just Not That Into You phenomenon to gambling.
She said that what makes gambling (and unrequited infatuation) so addictive is its uncertainty.
If we lost all the time it would fail to captivate us.
AND, studies have shown, if we WON all the time, that would fail to captivate us also.
Yep.
That's how the human mind works, can you believe it?
In order to create a hook, an actual addiction, there has to be that element of uncertainty associated with the gambling and that ol' devil called love... Or infatuation, really.

These crushes aren't about real love.
Love is more mature.
Love recognizes the fickle nature of passion and says it will persist in high times and low.
But crushes?
Flirtations?
Infatuations?
Initial attractions?

Ladies.
We're pwned.

It's those little glimmers of hope, real, imagined, or subconsciously thrown our way, that keep us wanting
craving
chasing
and baking their favorite cookies.

Or buying everything with their favorite sports logo on it.

Or remembering the time they mentioned that they liked the way we smelled so we ran out and bought all the products in that scent so we could do fragrance layering.

Hey, how 'bout the time they casually mentioned something in conversation, some little thing they wanted, and we went all over the universe just to find that one special thing...

Oh, you get the picture.

Hey, I'm not saying you/I should stop being thoughtful and generally awesome, I'm saying we should not cast our pearls before swine.
We should be VERY VERY selective about whom we give our generous, precious, thoughtful ness to.

My friends?
They notice when I
buy awesome gifts,
remember their favorite ________ (fill in the blank)
catch a passing comment and act on it,
cook for them,
change my hairdo,
upgrade something in my apartment,
help them in any way shape or form,
force myself to be interested in something (and end up actually liking it) that they like and enjoy it with them,
make time for them...etc. etc.

My friends notice.
They appreciate me.
They compliment me.
They RETURN the generosity.
They show the love.

They deserve my pearls of great price.

When I do things with/for my friends they don't tell me I'm
too pushy,
too gifty,
too "invested" too soon,
too much,
too intense,
too anything.

I'm the Goldilocks bed.
I'm just right.

So, if the recipient of my attention, affection, overgifting, sincere compliments and nice smells is as receptive as my friends have been, they deserve continued attention, affection, and gifting.
If not?
Buh f**king bye.

Can we learn that in 2008?
Please?

Oh, how's the book coming?
It's coming along like it was already written in our heads and all we're doing is dictating it by writing it down.
It's going to be great.

*Movement for Motivation*
I almost burst into tears watching this.
Not because I think he's the object of neglect, whether he is or not I cannot say, but because I identify with him.
I understand being CONSTANTLY hungry.
It's all going into the book.
The physical aspects of recovery are obvious: good food, good movement.
The HOWs and WHYs of what needs to be changed internally?
That's what we're going to answer.
By the way, I used to eat more than what this kid eats in a day.
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's activity: grump walk for 25 minutes!!!

oh, yeah...life!

Standing in front of 18 Broad Street in Bloomfield, NJ where Spiral Bridge Writers Guild held their open mic poetry extravaganzas back in the day.

I used to cry a lot harder.
If you look at my video filmed shortly after the bypass surgery you'll see what I mean (click here). That wasn't an isolated incident. I cried like that a few times a week.

I don't cry as much an more.
The night before last I had a nice cry but it was nothing major.
A few good sobs, a nice release and I was done.

Crying is cleansing.

I guess if I'm crying less I have less inner cleaning to do.

I'm not as much of a shut in as I used to be. Socializing, visiting unfamiliar places has its renewing, cleansing value as well.

Last night we went to Pianos Bar and Grill for their open mic talent search. It was splendid. A beautiful Amazonian chanteuse sang Smile Though Your Heart is Breaking like a sultry jazz singer. A cute emo kid sang original songs with his guitar.

But the real show was my friend Becca.
I had never heard her perform.
After knowing her for over 3 years I finally got to hear her original music.
She's good, really good.
The emcee compared her to Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez and Paula Cole.
Everyone loved her.

I sat there kvelling and snapping pictures like some proud stage mother.

A change of perspective helps me.
I'm reminded of possibilities outside my normal routine.
I feel less anxious about life in general when I'm getting dressed up for no one in particular and I'm busy taking in new surroundings while listening to original performers.

Just a few doors down from Pianos is the old art gallery (now a retail store) where Spiral Bridge Writers Guild held their open mic events (What did we call them ... The Naked Readings!). Those were fun times. Musicians, artists, poets, creative freaks expressing their offbeat observations on life while sipping cheap wine and smoking clove cigarettes (back when you could still smoke indoors).

Last night reminded me of those days,
risky, out there, artsy, cool.

I remembered my looseleaf binder FULL of spoken word poetry that I wrote back in 2001 - 2003. Maybe I'll get back up to the mic next Wednesday. It'll be good for me.

A change of perspective.
I have to remember that tactic.
It helps my depression.
It helps to stop my obsessing over nonsensical romantic frustrations.
It helps to get me out of my mental house and into a broader world.
It reminds me that there are people, ideas and opportunities beyond the familiar.

It's nice to be out in the world even if it's just a small piano bar on the border of Montclair.

*Movement for Motivation*
Hmph! Who says gamers sit on their asses and never get any exercise??
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's Activity: late night grouch walk after the piano bar.

Flexing Possibility

While I was out taking a grouch walk I stopped to sit on a park bench and snap this picture!

Wow, I really had to soft-focus this one to feel like I looked "ok".
Me and Matt at his wedding reception January 6th 2008.

Yesterday's walk was a SUPER grouch walk.
It was an uncharacteristically warm day in January. Over 60 degrees in the middle of NJ winter.
The air smelled like Spring.

I wasn't happy.

I'm not ready to wake up from Winter's frozen slumber.
I'm still germinating, not ready to push up through the soil, not ready to blossom.

I need more spiritual hibernation time.

Esmilda and I are writing a book.
We're fast writers.
We're already into Chapter 2 after one day of planning and a few hours of actual writing.
We'll be finished before the semester starts on January 22nd.

The book could be ready by the first week of February.

The working title is something like "Flex Your Possibility" or "Flexing Possibility".
It's my story, binge eating-weight-loss surgeries-recovery, from the perspective of self-talk, hypnosis and linguistics (how words affect our thoughts and then our behavior and our very being).

It's about the miracle of healing that isn't really a miracle at all.
It's about how our minds, bodies and spirits are always and already striving for balance.
It's about our body's innate intelligence.
It's about self-care.

It's MY story but framed in such a way that readers will take away actual skills for transforming their lives.

Everybody wants to change.
Even the most stuck-in-a-rut kinda person has that glimmer of 'maybe' enough to impel them to buy lottery tickets or complain that things should be a certain way rather than what they are.

The information is out there.
Every magazine at the supermarket check-out has articles about change.
Self-improvement, self-help, call it what you will, is a huge market.

It's not information that we're lacking.
We all know what we should be doing.
We all have an idea of what we would like from life.

I can't even say we need to know 'how' to get what we want.
The bookstores and magazine racks are lined with books detailing exactly how to get exactly what we want.

So, why are we, as a nation, still fat, depressed and underachieving?
We have the information.
What's the problem?

That's what I intend to solve.
Or offer hope for.

It won't be a here's-how-to-do-it workbooky thing, though it will have some components of that.
It will be a
HERE'S
HOW
I
DID
IT
and
YOU
CAN
TOO
book.

It will be relate-able.
It will poke fun at itself.
It won't blow sunshine up anyone's butt.
It will be easy to understand, easy to assimilate and easy to read...I hope.

I'm writing it fresh, meaning I am NOT cutting and pasting anything from this Blog into the book. I may tell certain stories that I've already told here, but everything that goes into the book is newly written.

We're doing a publish-on-demand thing, not an E book.
It will be available on Amazon.
Probably on eBay too.

I'll make it as affordable as possible.

Then I'll develop a workshop/seminar to go with it.
A CD, podcast, and maybe even a DVD.

Fun,
productive,
proactive and
helpful!

Whatever will I do with all this meaning in my life?

*Movement for Motivation*
A friend of mine suggested I try DDR (uh, that's Dance Dance Revolution, people! Ha ha, don't worry. A 19 year old had to tell me what the letters stood for).
I thought that I couldn't possibly do it.
'No way! Too fat!' I thought.
DDR is for skinny people who are light on their feet!
Nope. Apparently not.
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's activity: 30 minutes of DDR....haha....nah, just kidding. But I DID take a 25 minute super grump walk around the park.

It's not you. It's him......and you.

Matt Dennis and Sarah Frier, united in unholy catrimony, Januray 6th 2008 (well, really the 4th). Instead of throwing her rock candy and baby's breath bouquet she disassembled it and gave pieces to her friends and family. I got baby's breath!! :-)

Puffy, bloated, make-up smeared from just waking up, I did a post-nap grouch walk to the Boston Market and got myself some chicken.

It's not me, it's him.
Them.
Those emotionally unavailable, relationship-phobic guys that I tend to fall for.

Problem is, I've blamed myself for their reticence, their disinclination to connect with me and their loving me but only from a distance (and what kind of love is that?).

All this time I thought it was me.
I thought it was MY FAULT for being unable to inspire them to action.

I've read the self-help books, like the classic He's Just Not That Into You, and thought, "If he's just not that into me then I've failed to be attractive enough to motivate him to be into me."

For instance, there's the sort of ex (ex-what I couldn't tell you) who moved to the mountains to live with his best friend from high school, her husband and her parents.
My mind was blown by his decision.
Of course I blamed myself.
I figured that instead of staying here and making a life with me - or even have me as a girlfriend for heaven's sake - he'd rather go live like Fonzie in the attic only not nearly as cool.

My conclusion?
My fault.
My inability to be pretty enough,
smart enough,
funny enough,
interesting enough,
and the old classic THIN ENOUGH
to make him want to stay.

In the He's Just Not That Into You book, the author says that when a guy likes a girl he has no problem picking up the phone, finding a way to spend time with her, making advances, and being generally proactive about "getting" with her.

It hurts me to read that.
It hurts me that I'm not the object of that kind of pursuit from the guy who's captivated my attention.

But then I make excuses for the jerk:

Oh, he's shy.
It's his self-esteem.
He just needs confidence.
Maybe I haven't made it clear that I like him that way so he's afraid to take a chance.
He has no experience with women so he doesn't know what to do.
He doesn't realize how GOOD I am for him so I better do my peacock dance and show him.
Ooops, it must have been my personality that scared him.
He needs me to do all the work cuz poor baby doesn't know how.
He's depressed, he needs me in his life to give him something to live for.

Sound familiar, ladies???
Is this happening to you??
Do you have a vague, shady, skittish, mixed-signals sending guy in your life who just can't seem to ______ (fill in the blank).

Know a guy who would rather sit home like a miserable recluse rather than pick up the phone and call you to hang out???

Step One: Stop blaming yourself.
Step Two: Ask yourself why this situation keeps showing up in your life.
Step Three: Fix whatever you discover from Step Two.

And for heaven's sake get rid of the vague flakey weirdo who won't pick up the phone.
Or won't buy the presents (even though he accepts them from you).
Or won't make the dates (even though you try to come up with ways to spend time with each other).
Or pick up on your hints (Oh, he gets it. He just isn't going to take action. Stop hoping).

I know all about how sorta kinda receptive he's been to your affection.
I know all about how he's not telling you to f**k off so that must mean SOMETHING.
I know all about how when you start to pull away he'll do something semi-charming to keep you hooked.

I've been living it for yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaarrrs.

It makes me sad.
I'm so tired of being sad.

I'm also tired of blaming myself for their flakey, non-commital, unenthusiastic behavior.

And I'm really tired of making excuses for these f**kers.

And I'm SUPER tired of the little glimmers of hope that keep me hooked.

Thing is, they'll never cut us off.
Our attention is too flattering.
It feeds their ego.
It makes them feel wanted.
They get all this ego-stroking without having to do much of anything in return.
Plus they don't want to hurt our feelings, at least not directly.
They'd rather have us loving them than being angry at them or worse yet, disappearing all together.

They want the attention.
They don't want to hurt us,
but they don't want to be our boyfriends either (or spend quality time with us or whatever it is we think we want from these jackalopes even though they've not given us even a shred of what we're looking for).

So, why do we do this to ourselves?

Maybe the emotional recreation of trying to attract them is more fun than having nothing going on romantically.

Maybe OUR self-esteem is so damaged that we don't believe we're worth the kind of relationship we crave.

Maybe we think these human fixer-upper opportunities will be turn out to be the prince once we kiss their froggy asses.

I talk about this like I have it handled.

I don't.

I'm still stuck in I-want-THAT-one-and-no-one-else mode.
I still entertain hope.
I find it EXTREMELY difficult to walk the hell away from these flakey, vague, reclusive depressios.

But I eventually I DO walk away in utter disgust, feeling triumphant and free
only to find a new jackalope on which to waste my energy.

The classic advice to love myself seems less appealing than trying to get someone else to love me.

I need to fix that.

*Movement for Motivation*
Well, what do you know.
A very pretty, zaftig girl dancing!!
Charming.
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's activity: 20 minute grouch walk.

hoper

Yesterday was a big deal.
My best friend's wedding reception with a house full of family, friends, food and felines!
An incredible mix of geeks, Jews (Orthodox and lapsed) and assorted ne'er do wells all wished Matt and Sarah the health, happiness and prosperity they deserve.

I have tons of pictures.

No time to post them today.

I have to get up to campus.

It's time to get famous.
It's time to write a book.

A colleague and I are banging out a book together over the next two weeks.
Yes, I can write that fast.
Didn't you notice? lol

I'll keep you posted on the progress as we go.

I'm excited.

This is so proactive.

My hope glands are tingling.

Hope is the life force that animates dead tissue.
I remember wanting to die.
More than once I came dangerously close to making that happen.

Hope saved me.

I had hope that I could be happy, that life could be fulfilling, that joy was possible.
I had hope that the pain would subside, that my body could heal, that there were memories worth making.

Compared to the lives of most people on this earth, I have an easy life.
Comfort
Basic needs
Freedom
A justice system
Loved ones
Education
Meaningful work

But I don't like doing the there's-always-someone-worse-off-than-me guilt trip.
Sure I could make myself feel like an ungrateful piece of crap by comparing my life to someone who lives in poverty in some third world shit hole.
I could think of those without.
I could think of others' misery.

What good is an exercise like that?
Ok, it could give me perspective and force me to count my many blessings.
But in the end it's an exercise designed to make me feel like bad for not being happy with what I have.

It's guilt inducing.
It's not helpful.

I hear from people, "comfortable" people, mostly women, who suffer from depression, addiction and general hopelessness.

I would be the biggest a**hole in the world to tell them "just look at someone worse off than you and thank your lucky stars you've got what you've got!"

We each have our karma.
We each have our blessings.
We each have our pain.

Some of us have roof-over-our-head pain.
Some of us have social-injustice pain.
Some of us have where's-my-next-meal-coming-from pain.
Some of us have soul pain.

I'm going to solve the pain that I can solve best.
The pain may be the kind that's experienced in a state of having meals, and roofs and no-military-is-going-to-blow-up-my-house tomorrow comfort, but the pain is real and it needs to be handled.

Hopelessness comes in all forms.
It has no prejudice.

A single mother wrote to me about her depression.
She's a few years out from her bypass surgery.
I have a feeling she needs her hope gland stimulated.

Hopelessness is real.
It's tragic.
It's important.
I will not overlook it.

I will solve it,
cuz, baby,
that's how I roll.

*Movement for Motivation*
I listened to some techno on the way home from the party yesterday and wished I could dance.
Dancing must be fun.
I've forgotten how.
I bet being physically fit makes it, well, do-able!
Click here or click below...

Big steps Small moves

Grouchy and not in the mood, I walked anyway.

Last year at this time I was all kinds of motivated.
Ready to take on the world.
Full of piss and vinegar.
Determined.
Crazy.
Manic.

This year I'm the glowing hot coals left over from last year's fire.
Smokey and hot enough to cook stuff.
Full of mixed emotions.
Fighting harder to be consistent.
Glowing if you blow on me, but don't touch me or you'll singe yourself.

Last night I was a miserable grouch.
I didn't feel like walking.
I didn't feel like moving.
I wanted to stay inside in my warm, dry apartment and watch TV, wrap wedding presents, play around on Facebook and generally mope.

I ate smoked turkey, tamari almonds and some tasty, raw red peppers.
Moped a bit.

Told myself I would feel better if I took a walk.
Didn't really believe it but put on my coat and boots anyway.

Outside the streets glowed with a sheen of fresh rain. It was cool and damp.
I stomped my way up the sidewalk dragging my bad attitude with me.

My ankles hurt.
I grumbled to myself.
130 pounds lost and I'm still in pain?
I thought about my current weight.
A great improvement over last year but still too heavy for my poor joints.

I paid attention to my feet.
Maybe my heavy stepping was aggravating my ankles.

Instead of stomping I walked more gingerly.
My ankles hurt less.
I lengthened my stride, walked more slowly and deliberately, looked for a house that still had its Christmas lights up so I could take a picture in front of it.

Snapped my grouchy picture.

I walked for about 25 minutes.

When I got home I was still grouchy.
The fresh air and movement had changed my mood a bit but not considerably.

25 minutes is ok.
40 minutes is better.
60 minutes is goal,
but hey, even 5 minutes is better than NO minutes.

Some of us bite off more than we should chew with our crazy New Year's resolutions.
Wouldn't it be more practical, do-able and inviting to make a commitment that doesn't fill us with dread??

How about 10 minutes a day?
Can you walk for 10 minutes a day?

I hear the voices chirping in your head....
that's not enough
weight loss requires at least 20 minutes if not 30 minutes
may as well do nothing
I SHOULD do more

Blah
Blah
Blah
and then you sit on your ass after the initial week or so of doing your whatever too-many-minutes and start eating again.

I know I would.

Shut the voices.
Silence the buttinsky experts and take a friggin' 10 minute walk every day for a week.
Just 10 minutes a day
for just a week.

Then be super proud of yourself.

You might have a better attitude, too.

Sure, I could blow smoke up your butt and tell you that you can completely change your mood by getting some exercise.
Hey, sometimes it works.

Last night it didn't lift my mood very much but...and you know a big BUTT when you see one...
when I stepped back inside my apartment and took off my boots, I had more respect for myself.

Self-respect doesn't pay off immediately like some mood altering ray of cosmic sunshine.
Self-respect is slow acting.
It's solid.
It's a sturdy brick in a foundation of self-esteem and overall wellness.

I may not have been jump-for-joy happy but I was happy with myself.

Walking in the cold on a drizzly night = big pain in the ass.

Self-respect gained from walking in the cold on a drizzly night = priceless.

*Movement for Motivation*
Feeling grouchy??
Laugh
laugh
laugh.
At least I hope this was supposed to be funny cuz I thought it was hilarious!
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Yesterday's activity: 25 minute grouch walk.

me meat

Yesterday evening, woke up from a nap and walked!!

Alex Puentes, world's most beautiful celebrity baby!

I was a witness! Sarah Frier and Matt Dennis tie the knot in Judge Toth's chambers with Sponge Bob hovering over the proceedings (January 4t, 2008 at 10:36 am)

I'm eating a lot more protein.
Part of it is because I'm carb paranoid since I'm at a weight loss plateau.
Most of it is because I CRAVE the meat!

I actually ate London Broil on New Year's day.
I didn't even think I could tolerate London Broil. Last time I tried to eat red meat, lean hamburger from Ruby Tuesday's, I was so sick to my stomach it took 3 hours for the nausea to subside.
I figured meat was out of the question.
It's not.
Meat is good.

Yeah, I'm an animal lover.
Yes, I'm dead set against factory farming.
I don't think I could kill a beautiful living creature for myself.
But the distance between my plate and the slaughter house is far enough to make me forget where my meat is coming from.

Plus, my cats are carnivores.
I might not have it in me to slaughter an animal for my own consumption but if I had to hunt to feed my babies, I'd be bow and arrowing (ARROWED!) the hell out of some meat on the hoof!

My mom and I go to Chinese buffets for most of our lunches.
I'm a fussy eater (imagine?).
I like to have control over what I put on my plate and how much.
Lately, I've been devouring chicken; chicken with broccoli, chicken on a stick, chicken chow mein.
Shrimp too.
And tofu.

I'm not wanting the sushi rolls (the rice is too starchy and makes me queasy).
I'm not even wanting my beloved brown rice.
I'm all about the meat (and yes, I consider poultry to be meat in this case).

At home I've been eating lots of homemade tamari almonds and cold-cut turkey.
Tons of apples, celery and raw peppers.

I haven't bought any Wasa lately.
I haven't popped any popcorn.
My bread is getting moldy in the frig.

Don't call it willpower.
Don't call it Atkins.
And please don't call it a diet.

I really am just eating what I crave the most.

Last night I visited the Puentes clan: my bestest friend from grammar school and most of my life, Mary Anne, her wonderful husband Lou and their charming, incredible, most beautiful toddler in the world, Alex.

I was truly blessed to be able to sit on the floor with him and play. He play-pushed me and I was able to "fall" over on the floor and pick myself back up again just so he would laugh. When he offered me his precious little hand to lead me on a walk around the living room and dining room, I was able to walk. I was able to get up off the floor and move around without pain.

I didn't have to grin and bear it.
I didn't have to pretend it wasn't an effort.
It really was natural and easy.
Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.

Marre put out some really nice, healthy snacks.
Pumpernickel pretzels with mustard, raw broccoli, cauliflower, peppers and celery and some nice wine.
I ate like a normal person.
I didn't panic and wish I could stuff it all in my mouth when she left the room.
I didn't feel so hungry and deprived that I wanted to stop at a drive-thru on the way home and gorge myself.

I ate the light snacks.
I ate till I was no longer hungry and
I was pleasantly full.
It felt great.

All my life I've wanted to have a "normal" relationship with food.
I've watched other people eat a moderate amount of food and be satisfied.
I wished I could do that.
I wished I could feel full and satisfied after eating just enough.

It took me 43 years to get here.
I am so grateful.

*Movement for Motivation*
Special needs yoga?
Brilliant.
This program looks miraculous!!
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's activity: 20 minute evening walk.

Diehard f**k me

A pretty pic to balance the no-make-up pic below.

It's 16 degrees outside and I'm at the gym!

If I were really brave I would be taking this pic as a side view.

The honeymoon is sooooooooo over.
I'm petrified.

I remember last year at this time. I could eat one or two raw peppers and feel full.
Last night I ate 3 raw peppers, two apples and about 8 stalks of celery before I was full enough to stop eating.

That's alot of food for someone with a gastric bypass.

Good food, granted.
Good low calorie, low fat, high fiber food that probably takes more calories to digest than is available in the actual food, but still.

Portion control is all up to me now.
And yes, I'm scared.

So far this morning I've had a giant mug of coffee with soy milk and two tablespoons of barley with vegetables.

You read that right: two tablespoons.
I've become carb phobic.

The malabsorptive part of the bypass has healed over. My intestines have adjusted to accommodate the surgery.

The portion control is over.

It's mostly up to me now.

I hope my detox and good habit-formation over the last year and a half is enough to carry me for....well, the rest of my life or until I become active enough to eat whatever I want and use the calories as fuel rather than store it as fat.

This is a hell of a place to be with 100 more pounds to lose.

It's come down to will power and exercise, the old fashioned, tried and true, diehard, f**k me way of taking off the extra weight.

God help me.

*Movement for Motivation*
She's a genius, a goddess, a saint and my idol.
Listen to the wisdom...
Click here or click below.

Yesterday's Activity: 20 minutes on the recumbent bike, 10 minutes on the upright bike, 10 minutes on the treadmill, 15 minutes of weight training.

what I want VS. what I want

22 degrees outside yesterday, but I went to the gym!!


"Life is about uncertainty.
Some people find that exciting,
which is why they continue living."
~ from Dave Kreinberg's Dream Core (p. 32)

Today is one of those days.
I don't feel like doing much of anything.
What do I REALLY want to do?
Stay home all snuggled up (it's 17 degrees outside)
read Dream Core, watch episodes of Death Note online, laze around, play fetch with Bosie, nap, eat sourdough pretzels washed down with diet soda
and do a whole lotta nothing.

Two years ago and prior, that's exactly what I would have done.

Things are different now.
Last year at this time I was bundling up, braving the cold and trekking my ass to the gym.
Today I will do the same.

I'll go to the gym and to the Farmer's Market (right next door to the gym) and buy celery, honey turkey and raw almonds.
No pretzels.
No unnecessary carbs.

Why???
Cuz I prefer to feel good.
What I want in the present may SEEM like it's going to feel good, but it leads to overall depression and misery.

But today is hard.
My inclination to do not-much is so strong I almost want to cry.
My desire to stay home, read and watch anime is so powerful, I actually resent having to do something different.

Having...
Having to do...
Truth is I don't HAVE to do anything.
No one is stopping me from doing exactly what I want to do for today.
I even accomplished a bunch of stuff yesterday that would actually justify my doing a whole lotta nothing today.

Yesterday I hung up all the clothes that I'll be selling on eBay. They had been crumpled up in a giant garbage bag waiting for "someday" for MONTHS! Now they're on hangers ready to go.

Yesterday I sent my resume to a corporate tutoring facility to get some Part time work to supplement my income while I manifest some full time cash flow.

I vacuumed, straightened up the living room, changed the litter box, did dishes, shopped for healthy food, ate healthy food, worked out.

All in all I've earned a day of laziness.

So why am I not staying home and snuggling in?

Because fulfilling the desires of NOW won't bring as much happiness as fulfilling my long term goals.

It took me 42 years to really get a grip on that and I'm not ready to loosen my grip.

After 42 years I've learned that the accomplished feeling is better than the indulged-in feeling.
It may SEEM like it takes more work to get the accomplished feeling, but once I start, it feels good to continue.
That means once I start
cleaning
filing
straightening
shopping
exercising
walking
working
it feels better, yes BETTER than if I indulged my lazy whims and did nothing.

The hard part is STARTING.
Continuing is easy.

Half a pot of coffee should help....lol.

(Readers who leave me comments that I intend to respond to, I'm hoping you find strength, happiness, health and fulfillment! xoxoxoxo)

*Movement for Motivation*
ahhhhhhhhhh, nice easy movement to make you feel better!!
Once you start, you'll feel like continuing. Really!
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's Activity: 20 minutes upright bike, 10 minutes recumbent bike.
Yesterday's weight: 252

The more you sweat

Standing outside my gym on New Year's Day.

Oh no! Look at the post-holiday scale!

Yeesh. Talk about taking an honest inventory of one's self (physical self, that is).

"The more you sweat in training...The less you bleed in the fight"
~ from the movie 300

How great is that quote?
The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in the fight.
What a perfect movie to watch at the gym yesterday.
300.
I only saw the first 20 minutes of it, but I liked what I saw.

A warrior king in training.
A proud, arrogant queen who says, "...only Spartan women give birth to real men."
Honor.
Pride.
Ego.
Aggression.
Solidarity.
Sweat.
Armor.
Badass weapons.

Do I uphold the ideals of 300 as the ultimate way of life?
No.
But...
Everything in its own time.
Everything has its place.
The ideals of Sparta have their place.

A time to love,
and a time to hate;
a time of war,
and a time of peace.
(Ecclesiastes 3:8)

Yesterday, Sparta had its place.
Sparta inspired me.
Warrior spirit motivated me.
I enjoyed the sweat.

It felt good to be back at the gym.

When I was working out on the weight machines a good looking guy, looked like a trainer, gave me the fist-in-front-of-his-chest signal of encouragement and said, "Keep it up!"

I looked at him.
Then I looked behind me as if to say, "you talkin' to me?"
I looked back at him.
He nodded and said, "Yeah, you...I'll be watching you this year!"

I smiled.
I appreciated the encouragement.
Then I made up this whole story in my head about how I must look like some pathetic older, fat chick who needs charity encouragement from some young guy, how he must think I'm some loser who makes a gym commitment and breaks it, who gets a running start and then loses momentum and quits like most of the New Year's resolution crowd.

I thought about the past year.
I DID start off great.
I DID keep up 10 months daily workouts.
Then what?

My head started churning out degrading judgments about giving up and not sticking with it.
No.
I will not let that poison live in my head, I thought.
I DID take a break.
I needed to take a break.
Regroup.
Re-motivate myself.
Re-focus.

I wasn't happy with the results I was getting after 3 months of plateauing while I worked my ass off.
I was right to take a break and reassess.
I honored my need to take a break.
It is right to honor one's needs.
To have kept going just for the sake of consistency was not what I chose to do at the time.

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."
~ Emerson

There is a time and place for everything.
There is a time to say, I gave my word and I'm sticking to it no matter what.
There is a time to say, I'm taking a break.

It is MUCH MORE DIFFICULT to make the daily decision to keep one's word than to stick with something that's not working.

Taking a break allowed me to see which commitments served me and which ones did not.

I took a break from posting my daily weight because I felt I was becoming scale obsessed.
It wasn't about health any more it was about the number.
So, I stopped posting my daily weight.

Now, guess what???
I'm going back to posting my daily weight for a while.
I gained some holiday poundage and I want it OFF.
There is a time and place to be concerned with numbers.
I choose now as the time to be concerned with the scale.
When it's time to reassess that decision, I will.

There was a time to go to the gym every day.
Then my body got used to the workouts and plateaued like a sun-off-a-beach.
Now, it's time to get back to the gym every day.
When the semester starts and my Vixens get back to campus, then we'll develop a weekly routine that includes the gym and our workout classes (and yoga for me).

A time to rend,
and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence,
and a time to speak;
(Ecclesiastes 3:7)

Today, I go to the gym.
I'll probably take more pics to prove that I went.
It's always time for pictures!

*Movement for Motivation*
The yogini goddess of bad-assery is doing yoga in the middle of the night with her taut, bare midriff and slippers.
How awesome is she??
So very awesome!
Click here or click below...


Yesterday's Weight: 254
Yesterday's activity: 20 minutes on the upright bike, 10 minutes on the treadmill, 15 minutes of weight training.

New Year's Red Solution

Now for the hard part.

Losing 130 pounds?
Sure it was hard work but it was EASY hard work over this past year.
The surgery was new so it worked for me rather than me having to work at making it work.
My exercise commitment was part of this great, motivational momentum I had created for myself.
The fat was less stubborn about leaving.
The newness carried me along.

But it's been a year and a half now.
Not so new any more.

I gained a few pounds over the holidays.
Yeah. My first confirmed gain since the surgery.

Of course I'm not happy.
My first inclination is to panic then go into self-blaming and deprivation mode, try to starve off the weight and feel terrible about the whole thing.

Last night I was at a beautiful New Year's Eve party with delicious, healthy, homemade food, smart, interesting company, a fabulously decorated home and fireworks at midnight!

There was a scale in the bathroom.
A really expensive, accurate, doctor's office style scale.

I had to step on it.
Then I saw the number that I didn't like.
I saw red.

Red flag
red flag
red flag!!
Mental sirens blaring.

Stepped off the scale.
Began to panic... then caught myself.

I yanked my thoughts into submission.
NO NEED TO PANIC.
It's ok to gain a few pounds over the holidays.
It's normal.
It's not the end of the world.
It's not a big deal.
It can be remedied easily.
Panic and self blame won't help.
Easy...easy...easy...take it easy.

I assessed the situation and tried hard not to judge.
How had this happened?
How had I gained weight?

First and foremost...NOT MOVING.
As soon as the winter break began I stopped exercising.
No walking.
No gym.
No nothing.

As far as food intake...
wine.
Booze.
Lots of late night eating.
Carby snacky things.

Ok.
Two problems.
Two solutions.
Move and eat better.

Whew!
I can do that.
I know I can do that because I'VE DONE IT BEFORE!
What a blessing to KNOW that I'm capable of moving and eating right.
Thank you God, thank you me, thank you universe, thank you readers, thank you for the absolute certainty that I can exercise every day and make better food choices!!

Then came the fury.
Dammit.
Why had I gained weight instead of just plateauing or something?

I hadn't eaten Christmas cookies.
I hadn't eaten ANY candy or desserts.
No junk food.
No fatty meats.
No sausage on Christmas morning.
No pancakes.
No pasta.
No ice cream.
No decadent indulging.

COME ON!!

How could I be gaining weight if I wasn't overdoing anything!
Dammit dammit dammit.

It seemed so unfair.
If I gained weight it should be because I grossly overate or went off my "diet" or something more significant than boozing, eating a few extra carbs and sitting on my ass!

Well f**k me.
Life isn't fair.
Or maybe it IS fair but doesn't conform to my idea of what fair should look like.
It's fair on its own terms, not mine.

This year will be a different challenge for me.
The discipline will be different.
The watching-what-I-eat will be different.
The need to exercise will be more mandatory.
The need to be conscious of what goes in my mouth will matter more.

The top of the mountain looms high above me.

I refuse to lose any ground.

*Movement for Motivation*
Easy, breezy, beautiful desk stretching!!
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