Sad and Amazing

I read the book, “How to be Lost“, by Amanda Eyre Ward. This book was very good.

One thing really stuck with me though, from this book. The book is about a family who deals with the loss of a five year old child. I don’t want to ruin the ending, so I won’t say anymore. Go read it. The thing that stuck with me was this quote:

“When you are small, if you reach out, and nobody takes your hand, you stop reaching out, and reach inside, instead.”

I’ve been wanting to write about “my kids” for a long time. There are a myriad of poems, quotes, songs, and books that perfectly describe my kids. But this one rings particularly true. When I talk about my kids, I’m talking about the kids I work with. I’m a foster care social worker- this means I spend alot of time on the phone. No, just kidding– kind of… I support foster families who have accepted high needs foster children into their home, and I support and advocate for those children. I do both family and individual therapy with the families and kids.

Many families don’t understand these children. They’ve (the kids) been abused, neglected, and most of them have been further traumatized by being in foster care and moving from family to family. Basically, by the time they’ve connected to a family enough to feel safe, and act out their internal feelings, families decide they can’t manage them. So they move. And this happens over. and over. and over.

Don’t get me wrong. Foster care is a huge necessity and it can be an amazing force for children when it works. But it’s not the best- the best would be for children to be able to be home with their families.

I’m not saying what I want to. I guess what I wanted to say is- I totally understand that quote. It’s about rejection. I think we do this, small or not. If we offer something- particularly ourselves or our need- and are rejected, we don’t offer again. We figure, we’ll be rejected again, I’ll just take care of myself.

This is one thing when you are 26. It can be managed, and dealt with. And moved on from. It is quite another when you are 2, or 7, or 12. And you have kept on trying to reach out your hand, and it’s never taken. And so you stop reaching it out. This is what most of my children do. That no one understands. They are small children, who have not been able to trust those they should have most been able to trust- and they are reaching inside themselves. Children trying to raise themselves. It’s the saddest thing.

I love my job. I love getting to know my children. I love when I can advocate for my children. I love watching my foster parents take care of children and watching them blossom and grow into children who can learn to trust- and they can, most of the time. And that’s the most amazing thing.

Community

When I did Weight Watchers (the first time) something that I found I loved and really helped was having a community of people to lose weight with. If you’ve ever tried to make multiple attmepts to lose weight, you know how frustrating this journey is. And so it’s so wonderful to have people there who truly get it, who will hold you accountable, and be there to hold you up. WW stopped working for me, at least at this point in my life. But I never found another community to support me.

I do have friends and family. As you know, my sister’s in this with me. I have WLB, my weight loss buddy. My husband, while not walking the journey with me right now, is incredibly supportive of the journey. Some others. But it hasn’t been the same.

But I’m so excited now. I’ve been cordially invited to participate in an online group of women blogging their weight loss journey. I couldn’t be more thrilled. If you’re so inclined, come visit us at We Ate It, We Moved It, We Lost It. These women seem incredible. Some are doing amazing and some are struggling. Which is me every day!! I’m mostly excited about the idea and opportunity of a community of women- people- to share my journey with. Thank you, Jules, for the invite. I’m so honored.

It’s Friday and I’m not crying

So that’s a good thing, yes??

210.5. Not too shabby. I’m not thrilled, mostly cuz several weeks ago I was 207 and my new pants fit alot better and didn’t hurt. But down two from last week? Is a good thing. At least the scale is going in the right direction, sheesh.

So I’m down 11 pounds from the beginning and I’m down 1/2 a pound for The Wager. I’m pretty sure that so far Shannon is winning.

But she needs to watch out, because starting tomorrow the purple book is coming back out and I’m sticking to the ‘xchange again. So. There. I still have to August. I want to lose thirty pounds by August and weight 181. That’s for you big sister. I think I can do it. I need to stop eating ice cream for breakfast, but that starts manana. I can do this.

Who Am I Kidding??

Do I think that if I eat a donut on the way home and don’t tell my husband that I ate it that it doesn’t exist? And in the interest of full disclosure, if I don’t tell my weight loss buddy that I had McDonald’s and chocolates yesterday, does that mean the calories don’t count.

Yes, yes I do think that.

I’m kidding myself. And you know who’s paying?

Not my WLB. Not my husband. That’s right folks. It’s me. Yeah me. Go me. I rock.

The saddest thing? While I was shoving the donut in my mouth tonight, I had all kinds of weight loss “mantras” in my head. I thought, “A moment on the lips is forever on the hips” (but the moment on the lips is soooooooooo good). Then I thought, “You don’t want the food to control you, you want to control the food” (the food’s in control. But right now? I’m loving the control the food has. Cuz it’s so damn good).

This week has been frustrating. Which is not an excuse, please don’t take it like that. It is to say, don’t be thrilled for my Friday weigh-in tomorrow. It won’t be pretty. Too much slacking. But next week, I’ve already talked to my husband about being accountable. The same conversation will happy with my WLB tomorrow. And I will be writing my food down. Me and the ‘xchange? Are gonna be friends once again. I’m tired of gaining.

Me ‘n Billy

Oy. That Billy. He’s, um, crazy? Psychotic? One of those weird people who likes exercise that I’ll never understand. I think I’ll go with the latter, it’s the least judgemental.

I did spend my 55 minutes with Billy and the “Boot Camp Gang” (I kid you not) this morning. It was, um, fun? No that’s not right. Invigorating? Um, still not quite there. Tiring? Yup, yes, that would be the appropriate adjective.

In Billy Blanks Basic Boot Camp you’re supposed to have Billy Bands (what’s with all the B’s??). I don’t own Billy Bands because I have to earn the right to buy more exercise equipment by actually exercising consistently. But! You can do the program without Billy Bands. thank God. Because I think I might have keeled over had there been Billy Bands involved.

For those of you not familiar with Billy and his bands, the bands are these stretchy things. They’re probably four feet long. You hook them onto your feet (I guess you’d be wearing sneakers, like they do in the video) and hold on to the handles with your, um, hands. Then you do exercises like arm lifts, and kicks, and other crazy things. They look to me like crazy torture devices. And the really really buff chick? She even grunted when using them. So I know I’m not ready yet. There was one other girl not using them, and ironically she was the only one not sweating. I still sweated, in case you were wondering. (Is sweated a word?)

I have decided two things. Actually, it’s a three step plan involving Billy. Step one: Get decent at Basic Boot Camp sans Billy Bands. Step Two: Add Bands. Step Three: Be able to do Basic with the Bands. Step four (whoops I guess this is more than three steps. Sorry.): Graduate to Ultimate Boot Camp without Bands. Step five: Complete Ultimate Boot Camp WITH bands. By then I’ll be SO buff. No one will recognize me.

So remember the buff girl on the video? When Billy had us do twists, you could see her abs twisting. It was beautiful and scary all at the same time. I want abs like that, but first I want to feel my abs.

Speaking of um, so I got on the scale tonight, and was up 2 pounds from Friday. WTF?? Could it be the french fries I ate today? Could it be the Chinese food? The small pizza from Saturday? UGH. Pray a small miaracle happens between tonight and Friday morning. I can’t take another gain.

The Dreaded E-Word

Yes. This blog? Is all about weight loss. Early in the blog, there are some posts about me going to the gym. As you can see, that didn’t, um, last very long. Turns out I didn’t really love the classes and I didn’t like changing at the gym, it seemed dirty, and I got bored as hell on the elliptihell. Sooo I kind of stopped going, then when I switched jobs we moved far far away from the gym and *phew* that was a good excuse to quit the gym. Because, see, I hate exercise. Hate. Exercise. Sometimes I feel better when exercising, and that keeps me going for several months, however I often get a cold or go away or sneeze and that stops the flow. Then it takes me a year and fifty pounds to go back. At least I’m not the only one who hates it. I don’t feel so alone.

But remember January? When I made thenon-resolutions? I believe (I’d have to check) that one of those non-resolutions involved exercise. (The first one? Great.) I had to decide what to do. I decided to use the exercise videos I already have and buy a few more. This way I’d have some variety- see I hate exercise and will use any excuse to not do it, including me being bored. So I’m trying to avoid any available excuses. This way, once I start, I’ll keep going! Really! I will!

Then it took me approximately two and a half months to muster up any kind of motivation to exercise. Um, a five pound weight gain in one week combined with me and my weight loss buddy’s declaration of “Must exercise on Monday! NO excuses!” got me in front of the TV.

My cat, Rory, she was around to supervise. Which meant that while my video was on, she sat in the middle of the floor exactly where my feet were supposed to be dancing. She made it fun. Ha haha! Did I just say fun? In reference to exercise? I was talking about the cat, not the exercise. The only thing I remotely like that involves sweat is yoga. Well, that you can technically call exercise, anyway. Ahem. Moving on.

I put the video in, and lo! I did complete it. It was 35 minutes long and I didn’t actually sweat too much. Good thing, I have sensitive skin. Plus, I really, really hate exercising.

And I have a plan for tomorrow. It involves the early morning (once I come home at night, no matter what time (on Sunday it was 2pm and sorry for the parentheses in parentheses) I head straight for my pajamas and the couch. The most exerting thing I do at night is unload the dishwasher. ) So exercise at night is not an option. Anyway, now I’m all confused by the parentheses, and I bet you are too. Where were we? Oh! The plan: early morning, my cute (read: tight and not fit for public viewing) exercise clothes, and my cat. oh! And a new DVD. This time we’re trying Billy Blanks Basic Boot Camp. Sans the billy bands. It’s longer- 55 minutes, and from my other experiences with Billy Blanks (I used to have Tae Bo) it will involve lots of sweat. Wish me luck.

If you don’t hear from me soon, I’ve collapsed in a puddle of sweat on the living room floor with my cat. It may be a while before I can walk again. We’ll see. If I can, I’ll let you know.

Earth Shattering Revelations

When I’m upset, I make poor, poor food choices. Not sure who I’m trying to hurt or get back at, or hurt, or what, but I really only hurt myself. Obviously.

Am trying. Is hard.

“I’m trying, but it’s hard”

My husband asked me last night, while I was in a snit over nothing, if I was ever going to be done being crabby. I responded, “I’m trying, but it’s hard.”

I feel like that’s my life anthem right now.

I’m trying to lose weight, but it’s hard. Turns out? Fondue + lobster + stuffing + apple puff pastry + numerous chocolates at work and at home? Make you gain five and a half pounds. That’s right folks. I went from 207 to 212.5 this week. Not that it wasn’t worth it, and not that I easily couldn’t have balanced the splurges with some better choices, I could have. But I didn’t.

I’m trying to be brave when I’m scared, but it’s hard. Some things are going on that are big questions in my family right now. I’m acting like nothing bothers me, la la la, but inside I’m scared shitless.

I’m trying not to be devastated, but it’s hard. I’m feeling more and more like I’m losing my friend. Like, even if she does come back and want to talk to me, I’m so angry right now I’m not sure I’ll want or be able to talk to her. Like, I’m not even sure she’s going to decide she wants to be my friend anymore. And I still have no everloving clue what the hell I did to make her so upset. Which is scary, cuz if I don’t know then I can repeat it. And this can happen again. Which will not happen, because before I’ll let the friendship resume, I’m going to find out what the fuck is going on. Went on. Whatever.

I’m trying not to be lonely, but I am. I am missing my friend. Another friend at work is leaving. Most of the people I know at work are leaving. I don’t have that many friends in this state to begin with, I can’t have everybody up and leave me. My weekends are empty, and that makes me sad and lonely.

And so, I’m trying not to be crabby, but it’s hard. I’m MSing, crampy, and tired. I’m up in weight. My eating is out of control- tied entirely, right now, to my emotions, which are all negative. I’m scared and upset about alot. There are alot of changes at work. I’m lonely. I’m pushing my husband away when I need him most with my crabbiness. I get upset with myself about being crabby which makes me more crabby. I’m sorry for you if you cross paths with me.

I’m trying not to cry, but it’s hard.

My Lovely Valentine

My husband and I met in the summer of 1998. Although, technically, that’s not the first time we “met”. When we graduated from (different) high school, we had mutual friends. I went with these mutual friends (one of whom was my boyfriend) to my husband’s high school graduation party at his house. Many questions were asked before about whether or not it was ok for me to go to a party when the Honoree didn’t know me. I didn’t know my husband back then. It was fine. I didn’t know many people at the party, and I didn’t feel well. There was (for some reason) a reclining chair on the driveway, where people were dancing and hanging out (we were in high school, remember). I didn’t feel well, and so I spent most of the night on the chair. I left early and drove home and went to bed. My husband remembers another time we met, at another party, but you’d have to ask him about that.
Anyway, so we met officially through the same mutual friends. I had broken up with my boyfriend and also learned that he had been cheating on me. My trust in anyone of the male gender was- to put it mildly- not high. We all hung out (we went to the movies, I think) and after that he asked for my number. We had fun talking. He called when he said he would. Something I wasn’t used to.
That was the very, very first thing that attracted me to my husband: he called when he said he would. It set a tone for the rest of our relationship.
It would be several years of friendship before we quit denying the mutual attraction. We were very good friends and saw each other through romances and some loneliness. He, as my friend, walked me step by step through some of the darkest times in my life. We got jealous of said romances and hid those feelings. At the very beginning we went on a “date” and talked about all the reasons why we couldn’t date.
Fast forward two years. I had transferred schools to one in California (we both lived on the East coast) and I was home for the summer. We were inseperable. His mom commented about how we were together all the time. I was working at two jobs and we spent all the rest of our time together. He used to come see me at Applebees and he liked to witness and make fun of my mistakes.
On June 25, we got over ourselves and kissed, for the first time. Our first kiss. It followed a night of a 10pm dinner at Denny’s (I was late babysitting) and lots of flirting. While the earth didn’t move, something shifted inside of me, between us. Something that, while we tried a couple of times to go backwards, would never let us move backwards.
There were lots of rules. (set up by yours truly, the control freak). We were not serious. This was not going to last. I was going back to California and didn’t want to do long distance. I was so, so scared. Something inside of me sensed how big this was between us and I wasn’t ready, I was scared. He spent the next few years trying to be patient, while I pushed him away and tried to pull him back. We fought alot. We spent many, many long hours on the phone. Everytime we got together in person, the connection was there, undeniable.
People on the outside didn’t get it. All they saw was us fighting. They didn’t like how he treated me- we fought too much. They didn’t see what was really going on. I was fighting against what was there, and he was trying to stay sane. I broke up with him two times in that period.
Then we got together “for good”. I realized what I already knew. I moved back to New England (my family is all here as well). He came and picked me up, much in the same way he had brought me to California and dropped me off. We fought the whole. way. home. I was scared- this whole time we had been “long distance”. I’d never really had a serious boyfriend in “Hi honey, wanna come over?” range. I was, again, scared to death. I broke up with him again, but this time it lasted, like, a night.
After that, the games were up. Over. Finis. I knew we’d get married. In the years we spent as best friends and as a fighting long distance couple, we had seen each other through some very serious drama, and difficult times in our lives. Our friendship built a very strong foundation for what has become a very strong relationship. And we did, we got married. I got to marry my best friend, just like that cheesy quote.

This boy I fell in love with? He has his quirks. He loves comics and action figures. He is so smart. He loves cooking (good thing). He grocery shops and does laundry. He hates vegetables. He’s great with kids. He’s quiet until he’s comfortable, then it can be hard to get a word in edgewise. He loves movies. He can be sarcastic and funny.

My husband- he is my heart and soul. He gets me like no one else does. He treats me like a Queen, but not in a demeaning way. We’re partners in life. We respect each other immensely. He protects and cares for me. He listens to me, even when I think he’s not. When I’m upset and can’t figure out why, he’s patient. He puts up with my constant tears- from “I don’t know what to eat” to a TV show to “I’m losing a friend”. He deals with my mood swings like a champ. I have more fun with him than I do with. anyone. else. period. He doesn’t put up with my bullshit, and I love having someone who can be around to challenge me. We belong together. He’s my best friend, my lover, and my soulmate. I am so blessed. No words are enough.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Khalil. I love you with all of my heart.

Fat Girls Want To be Cute, Too

So the whole wearing-four-pairs-of-pants-day-in-and-day-out has stopped working. So I scrounged up some money and went shopping. I had a whole plan. TJ Maxx and Marshalls first, then Old Navy. It was a good plan. Solid.

TJ Maxx was first. It was horrible. The mean people who run that store think that fat girls don’t want to be cute. There were such cute pants! But! They all stopped at size 16! And I don’t fit in 16s anymore! I scoured that store, the store I used to love, for pants that would fit. A sweater I liked. I found nothing.

More than slightly discouraged, I made a mistake. Went to Dunkin’ Donuts and got a donut and a hot chocolate. Not my best decision ever. One day I’ll write a post on the fact that I am very much an emotional eater.

On to Marshalls, after inhaling my donut. I actually tried a few things on in Marshalls, but to no avail. It all looked horrid.

Now, Wal-Mart was not in the original plan. But the original plan also did not include not finding anything at my first two stores. So, remembering that the pants I wore today came from Wal-Mart, I decided to stop by. At Wal-Mart I found two really cute pairs of pants and a really adorable sweater. I felt reassured- someone believed that fat girls deserve to be cute too!! *phew*. Also, one of my favorite things about Wal-Mart was finding out that they have sized 17 and 19 in Juniors. I didn’t buy anything in those sizes, but I adore the fact that they recognize that not every teen that wants to be cute stops at size 13 and 15. So that made me happy. Say what you will about Wal-Mart, but I liked the way they shared the love.

On to Old Navy. I was getting tired, but was feeling happy about the Wal-Mart success. I basically picked out every pair of 18s in the store (I’ve done this before, at other stores). By the end, I had about 20 pairs of pants. I liked two pairs. But you know, I guess you’ve got to work a little. I found some cute tops and sweaters also. So overall? Shopping was a success.

I just want it to be known: No matter the size, everyone wants to be pretty or cute. It’s tough when you’re battling the urge to just wear sweats every damn day because they’re the only comfy things, and you can’t find anything halfway decent in the stores. It. Just. Sucks.