Amy Bart and a piece of my heart Monday, Nov 9 2009

Yours truly, Halloween night.

And yes, I did the braids myself.  Wootie woot!

I admit I am obsessed with taking pictures of myself.  Perhaps I like the absence of the double chin.  Perhaps I like the way my eyes glow as though I’ve had 3 cosmos and a large cookie.  Who knows, all I know is that I will stick my camera phone in my own face in a heartbeat if I think it will turn out well.  Or make someone smile.

I mean this isn’t exactly a good photo.  What am I even doing with my mouth?  My eye makeup is all wrong, and my age spots might as well be standing at attention while saluting my very large…..

ah, who am I kidding?  I don’t even care.  I still love it.  Because I can! 

On a totally unrelated subject, about a month ago I started receiving comments on my blog from a woman named Amy.  She signed her comment with her blog address, which usually means that a person is just trying to self-promote.  So I left it, but I didn’t actually go to her blog to read it.  Since then, she has left a few more comments, and this past blog entry, practically wrote me a love letter in the comment section.  So I thought, I have to check this chick out.

Soul mate alert!

Upon my arrival to her home page, I immediately looked for the link to her story, as I always do.  Imagine my surprise to find a beautiful, healthy, 150 pound woman.  I mean, if I saw this chick-a-tee-ta in a public place, and heard her say one word about her weight, I would projectile vomit all over her shoes.  She looks like someone who has been thin her entire life.

But she struggles.

Just like me.

And she busted her sweet ass to lose 85 pounds.

Her battle isn’t any easier than mine just because she “got thin.”  She still struggles with binge eating on a regular basis.  The desire to medicate with food didn’t magically go away.  And as much as I may resent her if I saw her on the street, eating a cupcake or tractor loading 10 fistfuls of gummy bears, the reality remains.  She struggles just like I do. 

150 pounds or 250 pounds.  The demons are still chanting.

Amy Bart took a little piece of my heart today.  Lesson learned on being a judgemental windbag.

You can read Amy’s treasures here:

www.amybart.wordpress.com

 

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For Real Wednesday, Nov 4 2009

It takes me about 60 seconds to derail.

And sometimes not even that long.

I’ve taken a real notice lately to my orally-fixated response to a crisis.  Or even a pseudo-crisis.

It is my immediate knee-jerk reaction, STILL, to eat something, drink something, or smoke something whenever something goes wrong.  I don’t act upon it the way I once did, but the thoughts and feelings about medicating my hurt are still there.  I’m starting to think they always will be.

Why does it take me so long to admit that I’ve lost motivation?

Pride.

That’s all it is.  Freaking pride.

This year I have experienced things I’ve never experienced before, and it’s grown me up in ways I never even knew possible.  I know that everyone experiences their own crap, but I’ve really gone through it emotionally this year.  It took the loss of my grandmother to teach me how inately selfish I am.  By nature.  It took the unrequited romantic interest of a great man to teach me that while sex can be a great thing, it’s not the only thing.  But unrequited love still hurts.  Also, the past 2 months I have gone out with 9 men.  I have also been waiting nervously to find out if my insurance company is going to pay for Zion to go to Little Star Center, a school for children with Autism.

These are the reasons I am all over the place emotionally.  And have put on 15 pounds in a month.

These are also my excuses for said weight gain.

We all have issues.  The trick is learning to deal with them without pouring a substance all over it.

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Happy Birthday my love Sunday, Nov 1 2009

I just survived an incredibly exhausting, fun-filled weekend.

This is what life is all about.

My daughter.  The little rat.  When I wasn’t paying a bit of attention, she took all of her 18 month old chubby cuteness, and sold it to this wild, bubbly 7 year old who now lives in my house.  What the hell?

Zoe decided a month ago that she wanted to have a birthday blowout.  She planned the entire thing.  From the food, to the dance contest, to the sleeping bag placement at the slumber party….she planned every last detail.  And while it was a good deal of work, it was a total blast.

By 8 o’clock Friday night, we had 2 dozen people in our house.

Mostly children.

We ate walking tacos.  And huge pieces of birthday cake.  There was a dance contest to Thriller.  And a makeover session, complete with manicures.  And tons and tons and tons of laughter.

My daughter and I planned a hum-dinger, if I do say so myself.  Our best friends, all together in one house, for a night we’ll always remember.

Zoe told me that her favorite part was her Aunt Carrie being there, because Carrie’s birthday is the next day and it’s something they always share.  (What 7 year old says this?)  While I have to agree with Zoe on the amazing, everlasting coolness of the Aunt Carrie, my personal choice for best moment was when Tenderoni walked in.  Because my ex was sitting right by the door.  Mwa ha ha…

Did I eat too much this weekend?  A-duh.  Yes I did.  But I also went for a nice long walk, did Hip Hop Abs with one of my dearest friends and our kids, and chased 7 year olds for 6 hours.  That’s gotta count for something.

Special occasions are worth the splurge. 

The trick is not doing it every day.

Back to moderation today.  Because I’m worth it.

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No Boys Allowed Thursday, Oct 29 2009

Last night/this morning I started the first phase of Operation Re-mobilization. 

I got up early today, drank 50 ounces of water, ate a banana, took my vitamins, did some a.m. yoga, and went for a run.

I did not love it, but I do feel great now.  And I will continue to choose this path of health, in all ways of my life, not just some. 

A few days ago on Facebook, I made the joke that I was going to switch teams.  Which, for those of you with no sense of humor, that means becoming a lesbian.  Several comments were left, as I’m sure you can imagine, but my personal favorite was from the husband of one of my lifelong friends.  He said, “If you stop playing in the minors, you will find that your current team is quite good.  No need to change teams, just start playing to your league.”

Ta-POW!!

I was totally blown away.  Because he’s right.  I’ve been tooling around with these tools for 2 months now. 

With men who are nowhere near my league, just to have male attention. 

His comment has been constantly running through my mind the past few days, and last night I just decided that I was going to get rid of all these silly fools.  So I did.  All of them.  The casual acquaintances I’ve gone out on dates with.  The freaky texters I’ve met online.  The fools who make time for me when it’s convenient for them.  And more than all, the man who has stood me up THREE times but still calls and sweet talks me into letting it happen again.

Bye bye bye.

I threw out several unhealthy items this morning.  But possibly the most unhealthy item I removed was all of the man candy. 

My personal favorite though, was the voice mail I left for Mister Stood Me Up Three Times.  I simply said this:

“At this point, you could show up with flowers, chocolates, and your dick in a box, and I would still slam the door in your face.  Lose my number.”

I’m back to ME.  No boys allowed.  Period.

P.S. Thanks Ryan and Katrina for the kick in the pants.  Love you guys.

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Getting Real Wednesday, Oct 28 2009

Years ago, had you told me that I would be completely comfortable in a 250 pound body, I would have laughed in your face.  I lived my life in shame and fear, and I believed that I had to be 150 pounds to be happy and self-confident.  Now that I have shed 120 pounds, gained back about 15, and continue to hover around the 250 mark, it’s a surreal place to be.  I’m comfortable in my skin.  I love my life.  I’m social, and happy, and dating, and living each day to the fullest and truly enjoying every moment of just being a fabulous woman. 

Perhaps part of that is growing older. 

Perhaps it is self-acceptance. 

Perhaps I am just hot and nothing can be done about it.  (tee hee) 

But the bottom line is that I love ME.  The strong woman I am, the sacrifices I make as a single mother, the beauty and light that I emanate just because I am fabulously happy, loved, and fulfilled.

So here’s my two part struggle.

At this point, I have to step up my game.  Because I’m okay with how I look and feel.  But I’m not okay with the potential health risks I am posing to myself in a 250 pound body.  Diets and Suzanne Somers and pills and all sorts of other stupidities exist to make us hot.  Attractive.  Sexy.  And that is all well and good.  But this has to become about health. 

Inside and out.

Mental.

Physical.

Emotional.

All of it.

It is all part of getting to a weight that is going to allow me to live in the highest and best state of health.  Screw the pant sizes, and the scales, and the nice little shift that my ample buttocks seem to make in pocketless jeans when I sache across a room.

This is no longer about appearance.  Though, I admit it feels good to look good, and that it is important to make ourselves the most fabulous versions possible of ourselves as women.

But now, this has to become about things unseen.  My heart.  My blood pressure.  The possibility of developing diabetes.  Or having a stroke when I’m 50.

The second part of this struggle, and I have to admit this if I want to grow, is that I am secretly terrified of coming up completely out of this fat suit.

Why?

I’m afraid of physical intimacy.

Every single time I get close enough to a man for him to come in for a kiss, my mind shifts to food.  The last date I had was with a complete narcissitic moron, who thought he was going to get a piece on the first date.  Puh-leeeeez.  He put the moves on, I made some excuse, and ducked out.

But what did I do once I got home?

I binged.

I didn’t even realize it until I was laying in bed that night, almost asleep.  But I started thinking about the events of the day, and I realized, that while I binge eat for several reasons, I think the most common is fear. 

Fear of what?

Physical intimacy.  With someone I truly love and care for.

I can do emotional intimacy all day.  This is why it is so easy for me to develop friendships.  And has also been my safe way of approaching males.  If I present myself in a friendly way, and get to know a man on a deep and emotional level, he will get to know the real me and love me through and through, and then the physical part will maybe not be so scary, IF it happens at all.  But if I just put myself out there as a prospective girlfriend, and the man is sexually attracted to me, then what?  I have to actually do it?  Without freaking out?

Oh boa.

There is oh-so-much to be done.

And oh-so-many therapy sessions to be scheduled.

Stay tuned, my friends.  Mama’s about to batten down the hatches.

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Ugh Tuesday, Oct 20 2009

This is the second time in 3 months I have had the flu.

Which really ticks me off because I eat well, hydrate, take vitamins, and exercise.

Granted, I work in an Emergency Room, and every Tom, Dick and Mary in a 100 mile radius has been coming in with the sniffles, but come on.  Twice in 3 months?  My body can’t take much more of this.

I don’t know about you, but when I’m sick, I’m a wastoid.  I will lay on the couch for days, without moving.  I am a humongous baby, and I know it.  When I’m sick, I want my mommy.  I want to veg out on the couch, watch movies, and sleep.  This is not an easy task when one is a single mother.

I am right at the end of this bout of illness.  I’m much better than I was a few days ago.  But I’m still weak, and listless, and just blah.  I have no energy to do anything.

On a lighter note, I am down 4 pounds.  But I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count when I haven’t been eating and probably significantly dehydrated.  I don’t get worked up about “flu losses” anymore.  Because as soon as I eat, it will come right back on.

Seriously, it is a chore to type this right now.

This morning it was all I could do to get up and get the kids ready for school.  Once I sent them on their way, I looked at the empty fridge, the piles of laundry, and the small mound of dishes in the sink, took a deep breath, and said “Ah, screw it.”

I’ll try again tomorrow.  I’m going back to bed.

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Crap in, Crap out Sunday, Oct 11 2009

These days people are really noticing the changes in this fabulous woman.

Aside from the gradually shrinking waistline, my skin is glowing, my hair is shiny, and my nails are stronger and healthier.  My eyes are brighter.  My step is peppier.  These are all things that people take notice of, especially other women.  And that’s one thing about us, ladies, if we think another woman is onto something to make us more fabulous, we want in on it too.

Women ask what skin care products I use.  They ask if I drink a gallon of water a day.  I get probably a dozen questions a week about what hair care products I use.  I don’t use any magic potions.  I have used generic mild facial cleanser and Oil of Olay on my face for 20 years.  And yes I do drink a lot of water.  As far as the hair care products, I use the generic brand of Biolage sold at Sally’s Beauty Supply.

But my most secret weapon?

The 7 day Total Body Cleansing from Spring Valley.

I do this every other month.  It is sold at Walmart for $19.  Each morning you take a packet of tablets, and a shot of some bitter lemon tonic.  (Goo.)  Then in the evening, you take another packet of tablets.  Spring Valley includes a suggested menu in the box which includes things like Shredded Wheat, berries, fish, veggies….you know, all of your favorite foods. 

During the cleanse I double my water intake.  I try to steer clear of foods with additives and preservatives, and I don’t take any medicine if I can help it.  And let me tell you, by the end of the second day, I am poopin’ like a circus elephant.

This cleanse is also designed to detox the liver and kidneys.  At the end of the 7 days, I have so much energy and clarity it is unreal.  The energy feels like it is emanating from my core, almost like the sun is beaming right out from my bosom. 

That sounds like a bad pick-up line from a club.  But it’s true.

Hey baby, anyone ever told you that your bosom beams like the sun?

Oh brother.

Anyway……

Most women I know have issues with bloating, gas, constipation, fatigue, and the occasional mood swing.  A body full of “crap” has no choice but to react in this way.  

Crap in.  Crap out.

Unfortunately the crap doesn’t always come out.

So giving your temple a good hidey-ho every once in a while is a great way to jump start your energy level, a change in eating habits, or a new committment to the gym.  When the inside is clean, it has no choice but to reflect on the outside.

Just another way to love yourself for the fabulous, gorgeous woman that you are.  Don’t wait until you’re a stick figure to treat yourself well.  Because the hard cold facts are that the majority of women never reach their “ideal weight.”

So screw the scale. 

And the numbers. 

Work on loving. 

And cleansing. 

And pampering. 

And in this case, pooping.

Because when you’re cleaned out, you feel good.  And when you feel good, good things happen. 

And no one deserves that more than you.

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Baby Girl Thursday, Oct 8 2009

I am so proud of my daughter.

Ever since Zoe was born, I have been very careful about creating a healthy relationship for her with food, water, and exercise.  It is during our youth that we develop the majority of our thought processes, and it is very important to me that both of my children, but especially my daughter, have healthy eating habits.

This can be tricky.  If I create a list of forbidden foods, if she’s anything like her mama, she’s only going to want them more.  If I force her to eat greens at every meal before she can have a cupcake, I’m creating the ideas in her head of good food/bad food.  It really is a constant battle for me to make sure that I don’t comfort eat in front of her.  I also have to make a mental note to use food as nourishment, not a reward.

I’m forever overanalyzing. 

Overthinking the menu for dinner. 

Micromanaging her lunchbox. 

Secretly manipulating her choices. 

Am I afraid she’ll be overweight?  Of course I am. 

This is a cross I wouldn’t cast on my worst enemy, let alone my own precious angel. 

But I’m more afraid that poor choices will lead to self-hate.  Self-harming behaviors.  And that self-loathing we all know so well.

So do I let her eat McDonalds?  Of course I do.  But 6 years of excellent parenting have created a child who makes strong choices.  She’ll order the cheeseburger, with apple slices, and some juice.  Not perfect, but pretty solid for 6.  There for a while she would make a choice, and then say “Was that a good choice, mama?”  To which I would answer, “You tell me.”  Sometimes she already knew the answer, and would change her choice.  Sometimes not.  But in my opinion, this kiddiepoo has struck a pretty fantastic balance.

This past weekend we spent Saturday night having girl time with my best friend and her daughter.  We went to a street festival.  Land of fried Pepsi and funnel cakes.  The first thing we did was make a b line for the corn dogs.  She ate about half of hers, and said “Mama, I’m done.” 

I beamed inwardly.

We walked on, got a balloon dog, looked at some knick knacks, and walked some more.  She stopped and looked at a sterling silver dolphin necklace.  She asked if I would buy it for her.  And I did.  She put it on immediately, and displayed  a huge grin.  We walked some more, hand in hand, until she spotted the elephant ears.  Her eyes lit up.  As did mine.  We ordered just one, and shared it with my friend and her daughter.  Finally, there was about a quarter of it left, and everyone was done.  Zoe thanked me for buying it and simply said, “I’m done, moms.”  (Moms is a nickname she picked up from Tenderoni.)

Dang, I love that little peanut.

On our way out of the festival, we bought a big bag of cotton candy.  She quickly ate a couple pulls, and then set it aside.  It sat most of the week in the back seat of my car, until yesterday when I threw it away.

So the little peanut makes her own choices, and does a pretty darn good job at it, if you ask me. 

The night before last, Zoe and I were doing our nightly stretches and exercises.  We chose Hip Hop Abs.  This is our girly time after Zion goes to bed, and it is a real hoot.  As we were giggling, she said “Moms, this is way better than watching a movie and eating popcorn.  I like having fun with you.”

Me too, boo.  And I couldn’t be more proud.

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Cybersextdating…whatever it’s called Tuesday, Oct 6 2009

Oooooooooooooooooooooooh, sexy.

This is a photo I took for my boyfriend.  Er, I mean my e-mail buddy.  Um, well…my cyber love interest.  Oh screw it, it’s for a smokin’ hot dude I met online.  And I got a way bigger kick out of this picture than I did out of him, trust me.  Oooooh he was so worked up….he called me beautiful about 1,000 times and said all the things I wanted to hear.

It’s a bird!  It’s a plane!  It’s sexy Ang!    …complete with tousled curls in the face and pouted lips slathered in Loreal Naked Ambition #830.

Voila!

Here’s the shizzy though….anyone can make themselves look hot in a photo.  You just have to find the right angle.  If I took this photo down and to the left, you’d be able to see my double chin and the fat roll under my boobs.  I took about 30 pictures to get one that I thought was good enough to send to him.  Note that I zoomed in on my best features….striking green eyes, mamma jamma lips, and curly bohemian hair.  You can’t see my flabby arms, that my midsection is twice the size of my upper body, or that my toes haven’t been pedicured in 2 months.

Some might call that putting your best foot forward.

I call it horse shit.

This is just another form of hiding….just like being in the fat suit for years.  Finding a cyberdude with a dishonest picture doesn’t solve anything.  It feels good in the moment to hear how gorgeous I am.  But then what happens when I meet him?  He sees that the size L top half doesn’t quite go with the size XXL bottom half?  And then what?  I cross my fingers and pray that he doesn’t run screaming?

So this morning I sent him this picture:

And……………..I haven’t heard from him since.

Sorry boo.  Mama’s just keepin’ it real.

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Curlforming my way to FABULOUS Friday, Oct 2 2009

So yes, I admit that I took this photo of myself.  With my cell phone.  In the stock room at work.

But seriously, my hair was looking so fabulous that day that I had to take a shot of it.  525,600 people had commented on its’ gorgeousness.  And I wanted photographic proof for my fabulous blog reading divas.  Now, before you get your panties all in a wad, and think that I spring forth from the bed with my hair looking like this, take a deeeeeeep breath.  I assure you this is not the case.  It takes preparation.  But it is well worth it.  What do I use?

Curlformers.

The following is a 10 minute tutorial which I snagged off of youTube.  Now, no one expects you to watch the entire 10 minutes.  But the first 60 seconds will show you how these are used, and the secret to my luminous and luscious locks.

Disclaimer:  I do not know the freak in this video.  I am not endorsing her, any of her Curlforming methods, or the strange Euro-porn synthesizer music playing in the background.  This video is simply for informational purposes.

I’ve done this so much, that I can Curlform my entire head in 15 minutes.  If I am going to use these, I plan my day accordingly.  Let’s say I have to be somewhere at 5pm.  I put the Curlformers in my hair at noon, and leave them in for about a half an hour while I pick up around the house.  Then when I sit down to check my email and write my blog, I pop a hood dryer on my head for about an hour. 

I can already hear you…..”I don’t have a hood dryer, those are expensive!”

Down girls.

The one I use is an attachment for my regular hair dryer.  It cost $10 at Sally Beauty Supply.

Once the curls are dry, I allow my head to cool for about 15 minutes, and then remove the Curlformers.  I pop some Paul Mitchell Skinny Serum (generic available at Sally’s, $5) on my hands, run it through my curls, and spray.

Yes it takes over an hour.  Yes the hood dryer gets hot.  Yes I have to reposition the dryer so as not to scald my head.  Yes it is more time consuming than a quick wash, dry, spritz, and sizzle.

But most things worth doing are.

Exercise.

Proper diet.

Vitamin consumption. 

Water intake.

Great hair is just another step in being the fabulous woman you already are inside.  Sally’s Beauty supply is my secret weapon.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

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