Category Archives: motivational

A New Year, kinda

Here we are *toots a horn* five days into a brand spanking new year; aren’t you excited? I mean, with me at least, every “new year” is the same thing over and over: I resolve to be more active, have more fun, push out the walls of comfort and live a little, find my inner happiness, write, exercise, lose weight, etcetera. A few years ago, when I started blogging (before I quit for a year), I had reached a low point in my life. I was so disgusted with myself and the way my life was turning out, and how I was shaping up. I made a commitment to myself, and those who read my blog, to share my journey through diet and exercise hell, all in the hopes of liking myself. I had great success at first, going to the gym almost manically, losing something like 14 pounds ij the first month, but then I gave up on myself as my life took a tragic turn, and I started funneling all of the emotions into writing rather than keeping up with the much needed exercise.

I’ve watched myself turn back into the borderline morbidly obese woman that I had once tried so hard to beat, and I guess you could say that I have beat her… I am now bigger than I was back then; the scale and the measuring tape with say so. I made the decision the week before Christmas o try something new after the festivities of the new year were done. I saw an add on FB for a dance studio offering an introductory ballroom lesson for $49 and I jumped on it. Monday. January 2, was the next “new” start. I say this because I decided to take to heart the posts I kept seeing on FB saying that, on January 1, it was the start of a new 365 page story, write a good one. Well, I worked on New Years Day, so my new story started on January 2… I went to that dance lesson and I.Loved. It. I’m ready to go back again, have some more fun, awaken muscles that haven’t been used since the 1990’s! Yes, I was a sweaty mess, yes, I was clumsy, but I still left smiling.

But wait, there’s more (stop grumbling)! I also joined a new gym, one that is closer to where I live withe better, and much more, equipment than the last one had. Of course, when you join a gym, you get your “free consultation with a personal trainer,” and yep, I bit the bullet and bought a month of training, three times a week. Today was the first session with him, Sam. He might just fall into the category of Sadist, just like my original one was all those years ago.

I didn’t cry, not this morning, and not since then, at least not yet. We did the weight, body fat, and measurements today. It was bad; real bad. He was kind, telling me that he didn’t have to tell me the numbers, but if I’m going to give this another try, then I have to own the numbers. And, like last time, I will not hide anything from myself in tis blog. I’ll share the fun, the tears, the failures, the successes,  the gains, and the losses. I will say that I HOPE to #giveit100 – we will see together, so far I’m completed 3 days.

Here is the ugly truth: Weight -247.2  Body fat- 40 Neck -17 1/2 inches Waist-46 inches Hips- 50 inches

As I said, I’ve not cried. Yet.

 

 

Mirror, Mirror

Over the course of this blog, it has morphed from this, to that, to something in outer space, and back to Earth as something else all together. Wow, I’ve either covered a lot of ground, or I have a lot to say, or I just share whatever is rolling around in my mind…I guess that third option pretty well covers it. Now it seems Im going to write about what I started with so very long (almost 2 years?!?) ago.

Back in July 2013 I stepped on the scale and crumbled inside myself at the number. It was an eye opener, that’s for sure (you can read it here). I made the decision then and there to improve myself, eat healthier, get exercise, become fit versus the fat. I went to a local gym, joined immediately, and signed up for twice weekly sessions with a trainer, who I went on to refer to as Sadist in follow up posts.I was focused, dedicated, and happily workingman ass off and stress out of my system. Then the inevitable happened…

I burned out. I went too hard, too fast, and my mind, my focus, blipped out. When I worked out it was, admittedly half assed. I gave up on myself. The shame and embarrassment were back, stronger than ever. I tried to like myself, pretending that I did, but looking in the mirror grew more and more difficult.

Life and death happened. Books closed and new books with fresh pages opened for me to write the new part of my life on…and I have written. I can spin tales, smiling while I do, making everyone believe the lies are truth. Everyone, that is, except for me.

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I hate the mirror. When I do look at it, I hate what I see when my eyes travel lower than my face because that is when I see the truth. What I see and how I react to it? They’re neither one healthy. No, there’s no self harming. But the constant, persistent voice inside my head is back, like an achy tooth. It nags at me, when I look in the mirror.

I’m back to square one, with a lot more weight than I had twenty-two months ago. I need to get back. I need to move. I need to focus. I need to succeed.

I have to start.

The Warrior

I have never been one to shy away from supporting the men and women who, not fearlessly, but bravely put their lives on the line every day for this great country. But with age comes wisdom and insight, and I no longer look at Memorial Day as “the end of the school year” and “the start of summer.” It is not a day only for hamburgers and hot dogs, or whatever you cook on the grill in celebration.

Memorial Day should always be remembered for exactly what it is, a day to pause and remember those who sacrificed so much, the very most that they could for us. It’s about the Warrior. For you. And for me. It is a day where we should gather and celebrate these lives which we never knew. And remember the families and friends that they left behind.

There is a line in the movie, a true story, Taking Chance, that honestly kinda drummed this in to me. Lt. Col. Michael Strobl wrote of his experience escorting Private First Class Chance Phelps, saying that “I thought that as long as he was still moving, he was still alive. But as they placed him over his grave, he had suddenly stopped moving.” To hear more of this quote, click here.

It really does not matter to me what country you are reading this in, we all have these heroes, and these days. Whether Remembrance Day, ANZAC Day, Volkstrauertag, it does not matter. We all should pause, and remember why we have what we have. This nation has shed blood all over the world, helping, protecting, guarding anyone who needed our help. Please, remember them this Memorial Day.

 

 

#ImNoAngel

I had a dream the other night, one that had the sleeping me feeling so light and joyous, so much so that after I woke and cleared the cobwebs from my brain, I was still feeling the lingering happiness from it. I remember smiling as I swung my legs out of bed, my feet hitting the floor before starting my morning. I don’t know if anyone else has ever experienced a dream as completely as I did that night? I can only hope that you have, or will.

What was the dream? (It’s going to sound very narcissistic, but I promise its not!) I was, in my dream, my minds eye, so happy and thrilled with the look, share, and contours of my body, but most especially my stomach. The dream me had a flatter stomach, shapely thighs, and a waist that curved the way it’s supposed to.

After my feet hit the floor, still riding on that sleep high, I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light, looking at myself critically. The difference was, this time I was more accepting of myself. Was this a result of the dream? Or was it a result of a challenge that a friend gives me every once in a while while we are at lunch, having me name one thing I love about myself that day? Or was it me finally listening to my own words that I share with others, trying to get them to change their way of thinking? I don’t know. Was I happy with my body when I looked in the mirror that morning? No, not 100%. I know I have room for improvement, but its nice to not be as repulsed as I once was. I am still a work in progress.

Then this morning, checking my email before crawling out of bed to start my day, there was an email from Lane Bryant with their new campaign, #ImNoAngel, designed to represent the beautiful, amazing, real, average woman whose size falls in the spectrum larger than a 10. The #ImNoAngel message was beautiful put:

Some say

That sexy is defined

In just one way

But I say

It’s how I feel

It’s who I am

I’m all woman

A symbol of confidence

Who writes her own rules

And sometimes breaks them too

I’m beautiful

From my soul out to my skin

Loving every part of me

No matter what I’m in

I’m a woman

Unique and complete

I break the mold

Throw out the old

I’m all kinds of sexy

Movin’ On

Sometimes I wonder if Julie Andrews was right when,  from high atop a mountaintop in Austria, arms spread wide, she sings, “Climb every mountain, search high and low, follow every by way, every path you know… ”

I’ve talked in past blogs (I think) that a lot of life is based on perspective. A good friend of mine was advised to try and change perspective instead of letting things bother them so much. And they tried to, succeeding more often than not, but it seemed that finally the ability to change perspective just gets to be too much, that there are nor other options. No other glasses to look through. No kaleidoscope to peer through in hopes of seeing something -anything- better than it is.

You’ve lived on this mountain, trying everything to see better. You keep climbing up it, fighting battles, weathering all types of storms along the way. You either make it to the top, or you just know that that climb is too difficult.  Sometimes when you get to that point, at least to my way of thinking, its time to take drastic changes. If you don’t like the view that you have where you’re standing at, maybe its time to move to a new mountain.

You have the ability to change what you see, and how you see it. If you’re not happy, your friends will try their damnedest to cheer you up, but more often than not, the change, or choice, to be happy resides in you.  Is it easy? Nope. Is it scary? Hell, yes. Are you with taking the chance on? Absolutely. Go for it!7b7440cc3ac22a93fc7fbd164437f060