I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Saturday night. Turns out that, even when you're really happy with yourself and with life in general, you can still get the blues.
I have a closet full of gorgeous clothes, shoes, handbags, and jewelery. I have incredible bed linens and bath towels. The jasmine on my balcony is so fragrant that I can smell it as soon as I open the door in the morning. I am involved in the life of a wonderful young man who played a mean game of basketball this afternoon (woohoo Alcott). I actually have a day planner and need to use it. I have parents who are alive and who love and care for me. The newest issue of the "New Yorker" magazine is waiting for me on my bed. And, I pounded out four miles tonight on my treadmill while watching more of "Sex and the City", season four. My life is charmed. And yet.
And yet, tonight, while I was driving up to La Jolla to pick up a latte and dinner at La Salsa, listening to the Love Songs CD I picked up at Starbucks earlier, I suddenly started to cry. No, this isn't about a man (or lack thereof), it's just that, sometimes, I still feel empty and unfulfilled. How can I be unfulfilled??? I have a great job where I honestly do make a difference (no matter how I might kvetch), I am a court appointed special advocate for a fabulous basketball player, I am a provisional member of the Junior League and am doing great things for kids through their programs, and I'm developing new love and respect for myself while shrinking my body. Most people would give up a lot for what I've got and - don't get me wrong - I am so incredibly happy with my life, but, well, I don't know.
Friday afternoon (thankfully). Who had her first study group session last night? Who totally had all of the answers nailed for the first assignment? Who really needs to stop talking about herself in the third person? Yes, that would be me! Ah, narcissism, thy name is Denise.
In any case, I must throw a minor hissy fit now. **Stamping foot and looking pouty** Why did no one tell me how totally awesome "Sex and the City" is??? Yes, yes, yes, I know it's been off the air for like an entire year and started like six years ago, but I don't have HBO and had never watched an episode until I bought the first season DVD just before Christmas. Now, with the addition of my Netflix account, I have been luxuriating in four or five episodes a night, every night. I just finished the first five episodes of season four (Charlotte and Trey working things out, Carrie and Aidan back together, etc) and am totally wrapped up in the world of these four women. I love Stamford and wish he was my buddy, too! I want Charlotte's wardrobe! I am so addicted that I can hardly wait to race home, put the next DVD in the laptop, strap it to the treadmill, and pound out an hour or so of feeding my addiction and working my butt off simultaneously. Life just doesn't get any better.
Oh, wait, yes, it does!!! Guess who tried on one of her new (size 18) non-stretchy skirts from Lane Bryant this morning to find that it fit even better than it did earlier this week when it arrived??? (OK, seriously, cut it out with the third person stuff.) When I sucked in just slightly, I literally couldn't believe how good I looked. I mean, I know I've lost all kinds of weight (approaching 56 pounds since June) and have moved to a happier, less weight-obsessed place mentally, but...well, WOW. How can I describe it? So, for my fellow fat girls out there, you know how there are "real" fat girls and then those girls that just need to lose some weight (but are still touted as "plus size models" just to torment us)? I almost looked, well, like a normal girl with a weight problem. [Now, seriously, please don't anyone write and tell me that I'm already "normal" because I know that - this is just something you'd have had to be 100 pounds or more overweight to understand. I'm fine, I love myself as I am, I'm just telling you how it is in the fat world.] If it feels this good now, I can't even imagine what it will be like when I'm in size 16, 14, or (should I even dare write it?) 12!
Love is all around, kids, so let's all reach out and grab some.
Wednesday night. Yes, for the first time since December, 1990, I studied for class this morning. We had to read through the "Little Brown Handbook" and find where they covered topics like "how to define your thesis statement" and "how to format a reference to an online source" - sort of a grown up scavenger hunt. There were 15 such things we had to find in the book, so my study team decided to divvy them up and each do three. When I suggested that we all ought to do all 15 so that we could learn more, they looked at me like I was some kind of freak. Is it so wrong to think that I want to learn everything that I can from this class? I know that the learning team model is supposed to enhance the educational process, but I really think that we could all find all of them and then compare notes to make sure everyone came up with the same answer. Am I one of those annoyingly uptight kids now? You know, the ones that threw off the curve for everyone and made you want to smack their self-righteous smiles off of their uptight little faces? Gosh, I really hope not!
In any case, I need to sit down and put studying on my calendar just like any other appointment. If I'm not organized about this, I'm going to end up trying to slam together my papers (I have a 2-3 pager due on Monday on challenges I expect to face in returning to school) and I just do not want to be like that. That's how I've always been as a student but I'm doing this because I want to...this is about me, not about anyone's expectations, and I want to do well to prove to myself that I can. If that sounds dorky, so be it! I don't care about my grades, I just want to learn as much as possible and become a better student and manager.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I just finished 60 minutes of walking on my home treadmill (I got it to work again!!!) and I think I hear a nonfat, decaf, sugar free vanilla latte calling me from Starbucks.
Wednesday morning. I met another one of my online friends this morning, and, although I will not reveal this person's name here (I will let them decide if they wish to "reveal" their identity), the astute readers of both of our sites should be able to figure out who this person is. I will say that it was a lovely hour or so of lattes, low-fat apricot blueberry muffins, and talk of bloggers we know. (Yes, Marla, we did talk about you - how could we not???)
This makes three in-person meetings. First, there was Yvonne, while I was in Maryland last October, then Shannin in LA, just before she relocated to the great midwest, and now this latest friend right here at my local Starbucks. I am so lucky!
Some things are the same - the Monthly Progress Report
Wednesday morning. I've updated my progress page and, as per usual, there are some positives (4.2 pounds lost, 0.2% body fat lost) and some things still to be worked on (gained inches in both abdominal region measurements). Oh, well - I just found out that I can fit into size 18 non-elasticized, non-stretch skirts from Lane Bryant (pink, with my beloved flippiness!), so I'm happy. Material Girl much? Oh yaaaaase!
Monday evening. Well, I finished my first class for GEN300, Skills for Professional Development, tonight. Wow.
I have to say that I've been having some pretty good panic attacks about this class for the last, oh, say, week or so, mostly because I just wasn't sure if I could keep up or (after peeking at the math assessment I have to pass in the next month and a half) if I was smart enough to go back to school. Thankfully, I calmed down, talked myself out of dropping the class before it even started, and decided to take it one minute at a time and stop freaking out about how enormous it was.
I remembered how terrified I got about midway through my CASA training because I was overwhelmed with the enormity of what I was doing and what was required of me, and had convinced myself that it was too much and that I wasn't good enough/smart enough/strong enough to do it. Well, guess what? Not only was I strong enough, I finished the training, graduated with pride, and now I'm helping to make a 13 year old boy's life better. If I'd allowed myself to follow through on my desire to drop out when it got "too hard", I'd have missed out on something wonderful and so would Alcott. The same thing is true of school. I'm scared, yes, but I'm excited, too, and, frankly, I don't think I'm the smartest girl in class, but I'm not the most clueless, either, and that's just fine with me.
Sunday evening. You know, I've noticed that this little chunk of cyberspace isn't really living up to its billing as a "weight loss blog" of late. I mean, I hardly ever talk about what I'm doing (or not!) about losing weight and getting healthier. I think the thing is that, for me, those things are just happening now, they're not really something that I focus too much of my energy or thought on. I wonder sometimes if that's a good thing and then I realize that it simply is and I stop worrying. If, however, you're looking for a traditional weight loss blog, I fear I might not be your girl any more. My archives have a lot of weight loss and fitness talk, though, so I hope you'll browse through my past if that's what you're looking for. (Start in June if you want to see how this little journey of mine began.)
What I can share with you is the absolute certainty I have that, if you don't base your weight loss and fitness journey on self-love and the desire to heal your life, if you see the journey as filled with sacrifice and self-loathing, you are missing out on a huge piece of the puzzle. I've lost over 100 pounds before only to put it all back on and more and I know that, in some part, that happened because of what I was pinning my hopes to. Well, I'm here to tell you that there is no such thing as "thin enough" when "thin" equals "happy". Your stomach may be concave, your face may look tired and haggard, but, if you don't love yourself no matter what you look like there will never be "thin enough". The funniest thing I've found along the way is that, when I love and care for myself and allow that to guide my eating and physical activity decisions, the weight comes off without the miserable feelings of guilt and deprivation and without the desperation born of needing to lose weight - not for health reasons, but just to be able to look at myself in the mirror without revulsion.
Do you know what the funniest thing about this whole little journey of self discovery I'm on is? That the weight and inches are really the least of it for me. Seriously! I mean, did I have a mini celebration here in Chez Denise this afternoon when I realized that the size 20 jeans I'd just bought at WalMart (they're the only ones that fit around the food baby and don't look like clown pants around my hips and thighs!) were too big? Oh, you bet I did, it's just that it was a quiet thing and it wasn't the best feeling I've had all day. No, while it was nice, my whole day was filled to the brim with little celebrations and moments of deep, lasting happiness. From the sight of my new camelia bush ready to explode forth with blooms to the first sip of my nonfat, decaf, sugar free vanilla latte to the simple act of switching over to my spring linens (doesn't everyone do that???), I just love it all. I love my house. I love my couch with its rose-covered slip cover. I love my TV armoire and my Breakfast at Tiffany's poster and my big, green velvet armchair and matching ottoman. I love the little cream silk ribbon tied in a bow on the door handle to my bathroom. I love sitting here after dinner, laptop in front of me, my baby girl kitty sitting on the couch next to me, tapping out words that people I'll never meet will read.
I love my life and I love myself and that is "enough".
