Tag Archives: truth

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.

 

 

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Masks II

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I’m a coward. Oh, I’m full of big talk when other people need my help, ask my opinion, or just need a good shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen, but when it comes to letting people know me? Not the top layer, but the real me that lies deep below the surface? Oh, no, I can’t let people get to know the real me. What will they think? Will they like this me? Hell, most of the time I don’t like that me, why would I ever think someone else would? I keep her hidden under so many masks that make up small parts of me…

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I know that the different masks that I hide behind are all parts of me, little snippets that I share here and there when I am finally comfortable enough with someone to let them in. I have a mask that I wear for my family, it’s one that is supposed to remain strong, that hides the fears and sorrows that I don’t want to share. This mask is made of a thick clay. It has survived so much, but like anything else, with time it has begun to crack, and I fear what will happen if it one day falls apart.

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Another mask that I wear, one that more people are getting to see and know, is my mask of creativity. Again, those damn insecurities about my writing, my singing, my expressionism, they hide behind a mask that is thin, like fine china, where you can see the light shining through it. It wouldn’t take much to break that one.

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The top most mask is the one I share with everyone. Only a select few get beneath this one. It is my shield. My line of defense against everything that comes at me. It holds truths about me, but it guards so many more. 9d31cb97bb2b71021afba95b798e41b2

How do I decide who to share the truth with? Oddly enough, the anonymity of this blog has been the most telling and revealing of the real, raw me there is. Its in writing this that I am trying to love myself. I remember writing enough blog post about masks over a year ago, and when I was rereading it just now, its odd to see how little has changed, and what masks I still hide behind. You can read that earlier post here. I try to face the darkness that hides in me, facing it dead on , and sharing it.

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