I started the P90X last night. Had I been able to do all the exercises I would probably be dead right now. Instead, I was not able to do any of the pull ups. Even with a chair. I did little halves. I don't know if I should keep trying to do the pull ups with my body weight or shift to something on the weight machine with a little less weight.
I was able to do some of the pushups, so that is an attainable goal I could reach. The decline push ups were not an option and the "under the fence" push ups were a disaster. However, I can see myself getting better at the push ups. I need to answer the question about the pull ups.
I got a pull up bar from my son to hang in the doorway.
My husband worked out with me, but he chose the weight bench instead of following the DVD. He's already strong, so it wasn't a big deal for him. It was still nice that he did it.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
P90X - Getting Ready
On Saturday I ran an obstacle course race. My second. The first one was Warrior Dash January 2011, this one was Iron Crusader. I'll try to get a picture added here soon. I have three months until the next Warrior Dash, so I've decided after recommenation and some YouTube research, I'm going to do the P90X. The first thing to do is measure and take photographs of yourself. I've decided I would start here. I've included some pretty embarassing pictures of myself. Last time I weighed it was 205. Here's the pictures:
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The Mystery of Le Mystere
I bought a Le Mystere bra. It's the 9955 Tisha model. I am a very full 38E. Finding a bra is about the suckiest thing I have to do, so when it's time, I gravitate toward Bali's minimizers in a 38DDD. However, I have found that I'm growing when I should be shrinking. 38DDD just don't fit the girls anymore and Bali doesn't have a lot of anything past DDD. In fact I don't think they have anything.
So last year I bought a Bendon Sport bra in a 38DDD. It fits really nice, but it's a sports bra and not the sexiest bra on the planet. It's a very nice bra, though. My most comfortable bra. If I didn't have to take out a second mortgage to buy one, I would probably own five.
Back to the Le Mystere and how much I hate buying bras. I'd seen this model on Opera a while back. Supposed to be the miracle to end all miracles. Well. I liked the look of the Tisha bra. No one sells LeMystere around here, so I was obligated to an online purchase. I took a chance and ordered the 38E. It is a beautiful bra and had the story ended there, it would have been very much worth the slightly under retail price I got.
However, it doesn't end there. I'm not going to show you pictures of me in the bra. Let's just say that if you are a big girl with big breasts, do not buy this bra. Or, at best, try it, before you buy it. Major spillage out the top! This bra touts a full coverage for full figures. Nope. Not a chance. It's jiggly, joggly, goop. My boobs were all over the place. When I look at the bra, the redeeming factor is the cut at the top. This bra is very low and wide. Anybody with anything more than a C probably shouldn't wear this bra. I am narrow in the shoulders, so the straps were too far out and very uncomfortable. Tightening the straps only made the bra ride up in the back. This is NEVER a problem for me.
I have been professionally fitted for a bra many times, so I know what to look for. This was just a mistake on my part because it's a beautiful well-made bra worth every penny they are asking. I only suggest big girls skip the lure of the tag when it says "full figure" because it's not.
The "t-shirt" bras feature is outstanding. If I had more than two thumbs I would put them up. This is a smooth bra that camouflages all those things that breasts do when we're in t-shirts. I am sending this bra back. I will probably look for their version of a bra that come straight up and to the side.
So last year I bought a Bendon Sport bra in a 38DDD. It fits really nice, but it's a sports bra and not the sexiest bra on the planet. It's a very nice bra, though. My most comfortable bra. If I didn't have to take out a second mortgage to buy one, I would probably own five.
Back to the Le Mystere and how much I hate buying bras. I'd seen this model on Opera a while back. Supposed to be the miracle to end all miracles. Well. I liked the look of the Tisha bra. No one sells LeMystere around here, so I was obligated to an online purchase. I took a chance and ordered the 38E. It is a beautiful bra and had the story ended there, it would have been very much worth the slightly under retail price I got.
However, it doesn't end there. I'm not going to show you pictures of me in the bra. Let's just say that if you are a big girl with big breasts, do not buy this bra. Or, at best, try it, before you buy it. Major spillage out the top! This bra touts a full coverage for full figures. Nope. Not a chance. It's jiggly, joggly, goop. My boobs were all over the place. When I look at the bra, the redeeming factor is the cut at the top. This bra is very low and wide. Anybody with anything more than a C probably shouldn't wear this bra. I am narrow in the shoulders, so the straps were too far out and very uncomfortable. Tightening the straps only made the bra ride up in the back. This is NEVER a problem for me.
I have been professionally fitted for a bra many times, so I know what to look for. This was just a mistake on my part because it's a beautiful well-made bra worth every penny they are asking. I only suggest big girls skip the lure of the tag when it says "full figure" because it's not.
The "t-shirt" bras feature is outstanding. If I had more than two thumbs I would put them up. This is a smooth bra that camouflages all those things that breasts do when we're in t-shirts. I am sending this bra back. I will probably look for their version of a bra that come straight up and to the side.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Where to Begin? #4 Getting to Know Me
The last two weeks were pretty traumatic. It was my parent's 50th wedding anniversary and a family reunion of sorts was scheduled for the following day. My mom expected 75 people to be at the event. I was very nervous about seeing people I hadn't seen in as much as 35 years. People that knew me in another time. I had no desire to return to this time in my life, but it seemed like it was bearing down on me faster than I was prepared.
I woke up the morning of the party aggitated. Luckily, my husband just left me alone and let me get ready. I wore a dress I didn't plan on wearing--another subject--and stuffed myself in a body shaper in hopes of hiding the extra 75 pounds I was carrying. I let my hair curl and wore matching sandals. I felt old, fat and ugly.
The upside of all this is only 43 people showed and none of them were "old friends" from my past. My favorite aunt and uncle were there with my cousin. We spent both days hanging around with them.
The irony of the very arduous day is that my mom said she didn't enjoy feeling like she was on display and this whole weekend was her idea! Whatever.
I woke up the morning of the party aggitated. Luckily, my husband just left me alone and let me get ready. I wore a dress I didn't plan on wearing--another subject--and stuffed myself in a body shaper in hopes of hiding the extra 75 pounds I was carrying. I let my hair curl and wore matching sandals. I felt old, fat and ugly.
The upside of all this is only 43 people showed and none of them were "old friends" from my past. My favorite aunt and uncle were there with my cousin. We spent both days hanging around with them.
The irony of the very arduous day is that my mom said she didn't enjoy feeling like she was on display and this whole weekend was her idea! Whatever.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Where to Begin? #3 Fitness
I signed up for a new obstacle course race, Iron Mudder. It's 3.5 miles and scheduled for October 22. I did a lot of walking while I was out of town--which I will talk about in a later blog--and when I get over this rediculous cold, I plan on returning to the weights, treadmill and doing some other things to improve my performance over the next two months.
I noted when I walked while on vacation that I am getting stronger and my balance is much better than it was a year ago. Seems like I could take the stairs at my parents two story home much more confidently and we walked four miles in some very hilly terrain. A was able to break a comfortable sweat and work some of my large muscle groups. I am returning to my original plan for the treadmill to be able to jog four miles by the race.
I'm encouraged by my performance while on vacation and I'm looking forward to the next two months. I will definitely keep you posted as to my progress.
I noted when I walked while on vacation that I am getting stronger and my balance is much better than it was a year ago. Seems like I could take the stairs at my parents two story home much more confidently and we walked four miles in some very hilly terrain. A was able to break a comfortable sweat and work some of my large muscle groups. I am returning to my original plan for the treadmill to be able to jog four miles by the race.
I'm encouraged by my performance while on vacation and I'm looking forward to the next two months. I will definitely keep you posted as to my progress.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Books and Movies: The Girl Who Played With Fire
Among everything else that's going on, I managed to finish Stieg Larson's The Girl Who Played With Fire. I definitely give this a thumbs up. Before I reached the end of the book I found myself looking for the last book in the series. This book was much better written than the first book, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. With the first book, I had to watch the movie to fully understand what had happened and I read it faster than the second. It took me a little longer to "get around" to finishing the second book. It was much easier to follow what was happening and I thought the suspense at the end was much more meritous than the first book.
A few twists concerning Salander's family might have seemed a little contrived or manipulated to me, but that's the beauty of fiction. Getting the reader to accept and I definitely accepted!
This book is out on paperback now, so it's pretty cheap in the old style paperback--something like $7.99. I recommend the Tattoo book first because that's the way I am, but if you want to start with Fire, I don't think it will make that much of a difference.
A few twists concerning Salander's family might have seemed a little contrived or manipulated to me, but that's the beauty of fiction. Getting the reader to accept and I definitely accepted!
This book is out on paperback now, so it's pretty cheap in the old style paperback--something like $7.99. I recommend the Tattoo book first because that's the way I am, but if you want to start with Fire, I don't think it will make that much of a difference.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Where to begin? #1 Back to School
I can't believe it has been so long since I posted something. Anything. Then, the last time I posted was this whiny paragraph about how terrible my life has been. The truth is, it has been challenging. It's been more challenging than is probably fair, but life is not fair.
I switched schools. I don't know if I posted it here, but my school lost its regional accreditation. I had decided to stay because it was a technical school and I didn't care about the regional accreditation. Well, the more I read, the more I realized it was important and like so many other things, I decided to change somewhat on a whim and found that transferring and applying for a federal loan was so much easier than I thought it would be.
My first class in my new school starts tomorrow, so I guess I can post about it after it begins. I did peek at the roster and found 17 names on the list. This is a difference in that the most people that were ever in my classes was eight. I know that I feel a sense of excitement I did not feel before. I am happy that this school has a real campus and real teachers and even though this sounds silly. Real clothes. Isn't that silly?
I had originally thought paying for my schooling as I went was for the best. I could only afford "less than part-time". I realized that this was going to take me another five years after already going for two years just to make it through the end of my sophomore year. Now it will be two years and I will be done. It is going to be MUCH more expensive than I had originally anticipated by about $10,000, but I will be done sooner and I can hopefully think about a graduate degree.
I switched schools. I don't know if I posted it here, but my school lost its regional accreditation. I had decided to stay because it was a technical school and I didn't care about the regional accreditation. Well, the more I read, the more I realized it was important and like so many other things, I decided to change somewhat on a whim and found that transferring and applying for a federal loan was so much easier than I thought it would be.
My first class in my new school starts tomorrow, so I guess I can post about it after it begins. I did peek at the roster and found 17 names on the list. This is a difference in that the most people that were ever in my classes was eight. I know that I feel a sense of excitement I did not feel before. I am happy that this school has a real campus and real teachers and even though this sounds silly. Real clothes. Isn't that silly?
I had originally thought paying for my schooling as I went was for the best. I could only afford "less than part-time". I realized that this was going to take me another five years after already going for two years just to make it through the end of my sophomore year. Now it will be two years and I will be done. It is going to be MUCH more expensive than I had originally anticipated by about $10,000, but I will be done sooner and I can hopefully think about a graduate degree.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Rough Week
I wanted to check in. This has been a terrible week for me. Lots of frustrations and disappointments. I don't know what to do and the people that should care, don't seem to care.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Petty World: The Hot Water Heater and A Job Well Done
I alluded in another blog about our hot water heater dripping from the pipes for quite some time. Before that, it was dripping on the floor and soaking the carpet that is on the floor in front of our washer and dryer and side door.
One that floor was a pile of boxes waiting to go to recycling. (This is not a problem. Sometimes I wait a little long to go, but it never piles up too much.) In front of that pile of boxes was a box of fabric from a job I did. The plan was to go through the scraps to see if there were any pieces left that might be salvageable for another project.
So as you might have guessed the boxes and the fabric became a smelly mess I was vaguely aware of, but inside the box the fabric was in plastic bags so I wasn't concerned about the fabric at the moment.
When my husband finally fixed the leak he just walked away from it. The job was done. He left everything right were it was including the bucket of water under the hot water heater, the ruined boxes and the box of fabric.
The first of the month is when I insist the recycling go, so I went to grab the boxes and realized that the job repairing the hot water heater had been left exactly where it stood when the damage was done. Now, I will not sit here at the computer and try to tell you that this is not my fault. The the dripping pipes were unknown to me. I knew about the drip and I knew about the damage. I guess I thought maybe this time he'd do whole job. Apparently not.
So I picked up the soggy boxes and bucket of water. Straightened up the area that had been shoved around while he did his repair work and opened up the box of fabric. This is when I realized the water had soaked through the bags and onto the fabric. This was $13 and up per yard fabric. I shouldn't have left it on the floor. I shouldn't have assumed it would be safe until I could get to it, but I did. I took it out to the garage and assumed it would be safe until I could go through the scraps.
Now it wreaks of mold and sour polyester and I'm not so sure if I want to take the time to try to salvage it. Another waste of money because a job was only half done. What am I supposed to do? I can do everything around here. I really can do it all. I've done it all in the past, but I don't want to anymore. It's time for him to be a homeowner, father and most of all a husband and he's fighting me on this. I'm tired and I don't know what to do.
So what is a job well done? A job well done is a job done where no one can tell you did the job. Everything is put away, cleaned up, wiped off, etc. If I have to come behind you after something like that and pick up, clean up, haul away, or whatever, than you haven't helped, you've hurt.
One that floor was a pile of boxes waiting to go to recycling. (This is not a problem. Sometimes I wait a little long to go, but it never piles up too much.) In front of that pile of boxes was a box of fabric from a job I did. The plan was to go through the scraps to see if there were any pieces left that might be salvageable for another project.
So as you might have guessed the boxes and the fabric became a smelly mess I was vaguely aware of, but inside the box the fabric was in plastic bags so I wasn't concerned about the fabric at the moment.
When my husband finally fixed the leak he just walked away from it. The job was done. He left everything right were it was including the bucket of water under the hot water heater, the ruined boxes and the box of fabric.
The first of the month is when I insist the recycling go, so I went to grab the boxes and realized that the job repairing the hot water heater had been left exactly where it stood when the damage was done. Now, I will not sit here at the computer and try to tell you that this is not my fault. The the dripping pipes were unknown to me. I knew about the drip and I knew about the damage. I guess I thought maybe this time he'd do whole job. Apparently not.
So I picked up the soggy boxes and bucket of water. Straightened up the area that had been shoved around while he did his repair work and opened up the box of fabric. This is when I realized the water had soaked through the bags and onto the fabric. This was $13 and up per yard fabric. I shouldn't have left it on the floor. I shouldn't have assumed it would be safe until I could get to it, but I did. I took it out to the garage and assumed it would be safe until I could go through the scraps.
Now it wreaks of mold and sour polyester and I'm not so sure if I want to take the time to try to salvage it. Another waste of money because a job was only half done. What am I supposed to do? I can do everything around here. I really can do it all. I've done it all in the past, but I don't want to anymore. It's time for him to be a homeowner, father and most of all a husband and he's fighting me on this. I'm tired and I don't know what to do.
So what is a job well done? A job well done is a job done where no one can tell you did the job. Everything is put away, cleaned up, wiped off, etc. If I have to come behind you after something like that and pick up, clean up, haul away, or whatever, than you haven't helped, you've hurt.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
The Things I Do a.k.a. "Why I Won't Get a Full Time Job"
I have a relatively short list of things I do every day no matter what day of the week it is--no matter what my plans for the day are.
This comes to my mind because we went away for part of the day yesterday. We left around 9:30 and go home about 6:00 so it wasn't a huge day away, but it was enough to interrupt the usual flow of things around here.
When I wake up I immediately do a handful of things that aren't necessarily all in the same order, but I do eventually get around to all these things by around 10:30:
scoop litter
feed/water outside cats
water plants
clean up kitchen/dining room area
think about lunch/dinner
ride my bike or walk on treadmill
general pick up of clutter
wash/dry/fold a load of clothes if necessary
load/run/unload dishwasher
Floors vacuum/"mop" -- I use quotes because I use a Hoover FloorMate
This does not include the things I do, weekly, monthly and so on. There are many things I do regularly that take up other portions of my day, but that's not what this is about.
Instead I got up yesterday and did none of those things. I toddled off with my husband for a day of whimsy. When I got home, it was all waiting for me. Dishes, clutter, cat poo, no exercise. My husband on the other hand had nothing on his plate for the evening. I told him to study his Sunday School lesson until he felt comfortable. I had some things I could do and then we could run over to Wal-Mart to pick up some things I'd been putting off for quite some time.
Warning: Approaching Side Note!
I desperately need something to catch the sand by the back door. My family all but refuses to remove their shoes when they come inside. When I say something about it, there is much eye rolling and an effort is made under my watchful eye, but soon there are mountains of sand piled up around the back door.
The other day, I actually saw my husband walk over to our beautiful and irreplaceable tropical print area rug and WIPE HIS BARE FEET on it!
I calmly asked him what he was doing.
"I felt something on my foot." He said.
"Did it feel anything like sand from outside and litter from the leak in the garbage bag you carried through here this morning?" I said.
"I wasn't wiping my feet." He said.
"That's funny. Because this--" I made the motion of wiping my feet on the same spot of carpet he'd just wiped his feet on. "--looks like wiping ones feet on a carpet."
He didn't seem to care or be bothered by me pointing it out to him. Where did this man grow up? A grass hut?
So I made much about getting out the Floormate and doing the kitchen floor. It was 10:30 at night.
So I am going to buy some indoor/outdoor carpet squares to try to remedy this 10 year old problem once and for all. One for outside and one for inside.
He studied his Sunday School lesson for about an hour. I walked on my treadmill, poured myself a glass of wine and sat down in front of the TV. It was after 8:00 and I'd already had two glasses of wine and was eyeing a Red Velvet cake on the counter when he finally asked me if I wanted to go to Wal-Mart.
I said no. One more night on a 10 year old problem wouldn't hurt anything. That's how we roll.
So he eventually moved to the bed with my laptop to look at coins and I watched another hour of TV until I was in such a stupor from Red Velvet cake and Black Swan Reisling I went to bed. He turned off the light and continued looking at coins well into the night.
Everything I didn't do yesterday was waiting for me today including a new day's worth of everything on that list. I was up around 5:30 unable to sleep so hit the computer and looked at urban legends for several hours. He came out around 8:30, ready to go to Sunday School. He read through his lesson--again--and dressed for church.
He wants to go to a gun show with our son. My son is very much into guns and I looked at it as an opportunity for them to spend some time together. Off they went. Three days had now gone by and he had not done a single thing to pick up behind himself or to maintain our home. This is how he is. If he has absolutely nothing else to do, he will pick from a myriad of possibilities and that will be his contribution for sometimes as much as a week or more. Sometimes his "help" is nothing more than a hindrance because he leaves a wake of mess behind himself.
I'm still waiting for him to clean his mess from fixing the hot water heater over a week ago. Hot water heater had been leaking slowly for a very long time. A bucket--full of dryer lint--placed under it finally filled. He just went outside and poured the water in the grass. Plastic bag and all right there by the side door. Where did this man grow up?
So, you still may ask, what does this have to do with me getting a full time job? Because in my 25 years of marriage I've had a few full time jobs and I've had numerous part-time jobs. The last full time job I had was a perfect opportunity. I sat my husband and my then high school aged son down and told them about it. I told them I would need help. I wasn't going to do everything and life would cease to exist the way it had. We'd have quite a bit of extra money, but all those things come with trade-offs. Both of them agreed to help with keeping the house clean and pitching in with other things like meals and maintenance. I was not going to work a full-time job and come home to everything I did around the house.
They agreed.
As you might have guessed, it didn't last. Within a few weeks--not even months--their worlds were back to the way they always were. I was working a 50 hour week, still teaching privately and managing to do all those things around the house. I was worn out and burned out. My dream of getting the same respect for a long day at work was shot down. I just didn't understand why I didn't get the same respect when my work day ended--er, seldom ended.
I have made three attempts to work at a full time or part time job and have never got the respect a man receives from a day of work. No matter what it was I have done, it was never as valuable as what my husband did. There was one brief period of time that between the full time job I was working and teaching at home, I made more money than my husband. I remember his attitude changing. There was no way I was making more money than him. I showed him the figures.
He had to believe.
I had to quit.
I couldn't keep up the pace.
I probably haven't done a very good job of explaining myself here, but I believe that's not the point here. The point is figuring out what my next step is to be. Where I am to go next and what I am to do next.
For now, the day I get a full time job is the day I leave my husband for good and never look back for an instance.
Well, the house is empty for a few hours and I've got to get to the things I do on the "first" of each month, but that's another list another way that I contribute around here that goes, for the most part, unnoticed until a day like yesterday.
This comes to my mind because we went away for part of the day yesterday. We left around 9:30 and go home about 6:00 so it wasn't a huge day away, but it was enough to interrupt the usual flow of things around here.
When I wake up I immediately do a handful of things that aren't necessarily all in the same order, but I do eventually get around to all these things by around 10:30:
scoop litter
feed/water outside cats
water plants
clean up kitchen/dining room area
think about lunch/dinner
ride my bike or walk on treadmill
general pick up of clutter
wash/dry/fold a load of clothes if necessary
load/run/unload dishwasher
Floors vacuum/"mop" -- I use quotes because I use a Hoover FloorMate
This does not include the things I do, weekly, monthly and so on. There are many things I do regularly that take up other portions of my day, but that's not what this is about.
Instead I got up yesterday and did none of those things. I toddled off with my husband for a day of whimsy. When I got home, it was all waiting for me. Dishes, clutter, cat poo, no exercise. My husband on the other hand had nothing on his plate for the evening. I told him to study his Sunday School lesson until he felt comfortable. I had some things I could do and then we could run over to Wal-Mart to pick up some things I'd been putting off for quite some time.
Warning: Approaching Side Note!
I desperately need something to catch the sand by the back door. My family all but refuses to remove their shoes when they come inside. When I say something about it, there is much eye rolling and an effort is made under my watchful eye, but soon there are mountains of sand piled up around the back door.
The other day, I actually saw my husband walk over to our beautiful and irreplaceable tropical print area rug and WIPE HIS BARE FEET on it!
I calmly asked him what he was doing.
"I felt something on my foot." He said.
"Did it feel anything like sand from outside and litter from the leak in the garbage bag you carried through here this morning?" I said.
"I wasn't wiping my feet." He said.
"That's funny. Because this--" I made the motion of wiping my feet on the same spot of carpet he'd just wiped his feet on. "--looks like wiping ones feet on a carpet."
He didn't seem to care or be bothered by me pointing it out to him. Where did this man grow up? A grass hut?
So I made much about getting out the Floormate and doing the kitchen floor. It was 10:30 at night.
So I am going to buy some indoor/outdoor carpet squares to try to remedy this 10 year old problem once and for all. One for outside and one for inside.
He studied his Sunday School lesson for about an hour. I walked on my treadmill, poured myself a glass of wine and sat down in front of the TV. It was after 8:00 and I'd already had two glasses of wine and was eyeing a Red Velvet cake on the counter when he finally asked me if I wanted to go to Wal-Mart.
I said no. One more night on a 10 year old problem wouldn't hurt anything. That's how we roll.
So he eventually moved to the bed with my laptop to look at coins and I watched another hour of TV until I was in such a stupor from Red Velvet cake and Black Swan Reisling I went to bed. He turned off the light and continued looking at coins well into the night.
Everything I didn't do yesterday was waiting for me today including a new day's worth of everything on that list. I was up around 5:30 unable to sleep so hit the computer and looked at urban legends for several hours. He came out around 8:30, ready to go to Sunday School. He read through his lesson--again--and dressed for church.
He wants to go to a gun show with our son. My son is very much into guns and I looked at it as an opportunity for them to spend some time together. Off they went. Three days had now gone by and he had not done a single thing to pick up behind himself or to maintain our home. This is how he is. If he has absolutely nothing else to do, he will pick from a myriad of possibilities and that will be his contribution for sometimes as much as a week or more. Sometimes his "help" is nothing more than a hindrance because he leaves a wake of mess behind himself.
I'm still waiting for him to clean his mess from fixing the hot water heater over a week ago. Hot water heater had been leaking slowly for a very long time. A bucket--full of dryer lint--placed under it finally filled. He just went outside and poured the water in the grass. Plastic bag and all right there by the side door. Where did this man grow up?
So, you still may ask, what does this have to do with me getting a full time job? Because in my 25 years of marriage I've had a few full time jobs and I've had numerous part-time jobs. The last full time job I had was a perfect opportunity. I sat my husband and my then high school aged son down and told them about it. I told them I would need help. I wasn't going to do everything and life would cease to exist the way it had. We'd have quite a bit of extra money, but all those things come with trade-offs. Both of them agreed to help with keeping the house clean and pitching in with other things like meals and maintenance. I was not going to work a full-time job and come home to everything I did around the house.
They agreed.
As you might have guessed, it didn't last. Within a few weeks--not even months--their worlds were back to the way they always were. I was working a 50 hour week, still teaching privately and managing to do all those things around the house. I was worn out and burned out. My dream of getting the same respect for a long day at work was shot down. I just didn't understand why I didn't get the same respect when my work day ended--er, seldom ended.
I have made three attempts to work at a full time or part time job and have never got the respect a man receives from a day of work. No matter what it was I have done, it was never as valuable as what my husband did. There was one brief period of time that between the full time job I was working and teaching at home, I made more money than my husband. I remember his attitude changing. There was no way I was making more money than him. I showed him the figures.
He had to believe.
I had to quit.
I couldn't keep up the pace.
I probably haven't done a very good job of explaining myself here, but I believe that's not the point here. The point is figuring out what my next step is to be. Where I am to go next and what I am to do next.
For now, the day I get a full time job is the day I leave my husband for good and never look back for an instance.
Well, the house is empty for a few hours and I've got to get to the things I do on the "first" of each month, but that's another list another way that I contribute around here that goes, for the most part, unnoticed until a day like yesterday.
Never On Sunday: The Church Newsletter and Blended Services
The church newsletter arrived this week. I scanned through it. Seems egos are still headlining. I remember when I was working for the church, I wrote lots and lots of articles. Long ones, shorts ones. I wanted the church to know about the things that were going on. I don't know if it just came naturally, or if that's the kind of person I am, but I seldom mentioned myself and my efforts in the articles. However, it was still a potpourri of what I wanted the congregation to know. What I wanted them to know.
I would say a strong majority of the articles this month were me, me, me, look at me. I'm doing this, I did that. We did this, we did that. Amazingly enough, the pastor's little third of a page article was pretty much devoid of the me statements. There was congratulations for a great Vacation Bible School, a mention of summer ending soon and the changes to be made to the "11:00 service"--oh wait. There it is. Subtle as it may be. There's the me in this. He's wanted a contemporary service from day one, only this is about a "blended" service. Perhaps a compromise? It's hard to find decent musicians that will commit to every Sunday for free, isn't it? At any rate, sounds like he's finally gotten his way. What has it taken? Seven years? Now that's a patient man.
Blended service. What a recipe for disaster. Talk about riding the fence. Blended service is just a way to get that contemporary feel without having to pay a band. Don't even get me started on "praise" bands. Uggh. I hate blended services. No wait, I hate "praise" bands even more. These bands are usually full of soloists and prima donnas that never really quite made it any where but church. I'm smiling here because my name could easily be on that list, but I don't play in church for free and I don't have an enormous personal agenda.
These blended services always end up coming off like amateur hour. I can guarantee it will come off like a high school talent show except there won't be any high schoolers because our church doesn't support it's tiny little youth program. It will be a disaster. When a church tries to follow the world instead of the other way around, it's wrong, wrong, wrong.
So my thought here that the newsletter was predominantly about egos holds truer than I had planned. I'd actually planned on pointing out that the pastor had actually managed to not talk about himself. But, in a convolluted way, he still did.
Take a look at your newsletter. See how much of it is actually news and how much of it is egos spouting off all the wonderful things "I" and "we" did and are going to do. Look at how relevent it is. I dispassionately read mine this week and for the first time realized that it has got to be one of the biggest wastes of time and money the church has. You guys want to save some money? Cut the budget? Cut out the newsletter. I guarantee you that anyone that actually reads it already knows the information because the only people that read it are the ones that submitted the articles.
I would say a strong majority of the articles this month were me, me, me, look at me. I'm doing this, I did that. We did this, we did that. Amazingly enough, the pastor's little third of a page article was pretty much devoid of the me statements. There was congratulations for a great Vacation Bible School, a mention of summer ending soon and the changes to be made to the "11:00 service"--oh wait. There it is. Subtle as it may be. There's the me in this. He's wanted a contemporary service from day one, only this is about a "blended" service. Perhaps a compromise? It's hard to find decent musicians that will commit to every Sunday for free, isn't it? At any rate, sounds like he's finally gotten his way. What has it taken? Seven years? Now that's a patient man.
Blended service. What a recipe for disaster. Talk about riding the fence. Blended service is just a way to get that contemporary feel without having to pay a band. Don't even get me started on "praise" bands. Uggh. I hate blended services. No wait, I hate "praise" bands even more. These bands are usually full of soloists and prima donnas that never really quite made it any where but church. I'm smiling here because my name could easily be on that list, but I don't play in church for free and I don't have an enormous personal agenda.
These blended services always end up coming off like amateur hour. I can guarantee it will come off like a high school talent show except there won't be any high schoolers because our church doesn't support it's tiny little youth program. It will be a disaster. When a church tries to follow the world instead of the other way around, it's wrong, wrong, wrong.
So my thought here that the newsletter was predominantly about egos holds truer than I had planned. I'd actually planned on pointing out that the pastor had actually managed to not talk about himself. But, in a convolluted way, he still did.
Take a look at your newsletter. See how much of it is actually news and how much of it is egos spouting off all the wonderful things "I" and "we" did and are going to do. Look at how relevent it is. I dispassionately read mine this week and for the first time realized that it has got to be one of the biggest wastes of time and money the church has. You guys want to save some money? Cut the budget? Cut out the newsletter. I guarantee you that anyone that actually reads it already knows the information because the only people that read it are the ones that submitted the articles.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Woman On Top
I posted this article a few days ago, thought better of it, pulled it, and now, well, I think I'm going to post it anyway. I've got no one I can talk to. I've got to begin to heal myself, so it means assuming a little anonymity here and stepping out on faith that someone will read, take the time to get to know me and help me.
So I'll open with a huge WARNING:
This blog talks about old married sex. Not glamorous, not cosmopolitan, not even imaginative sex. Old . . . married . . . sex. So if you don't want to read about my struggles to understand my husband and myself, you definitely shouldn't read any further. If you're the slightest bit curious about someone else's sex life besides your own, this may be the spot for you.
I've known for a little while that my husband needs a mom--a mother. Someone to think he's wonderful no matter what he does. Farts and all. Someone that pretty much lets him do whatever he wants when he wants as long as he doesn't get in the way. Someone he can wear down until he has everything just the way he wants it.
Hmmm.
Pretty much what he had from his own mother.
She thinks he's wonderful.
I know better.
So a week ago in my ongoing effort to be more sexually overt I suggested we have sex. I suggested it the same way last Friday. In plenty of time to get showers and smell good for each other. (I told you this was old married sex) Last Friday my suggestion was greeted with a disgruntled sigh and the suggestion we make it quick because he has to get up early in the morning. So this Friday, knowing he didn't have to get up as early, I suggested sex again. He seemed all too quick to point out that oh yes, indeed, he did have to get up in the morning and if that's what I wanted to do, we should probably get started.
It just didn't set well with me. What is going on here? That is two Fridays in a row he's seemed disinterested in sex. What man turns down sex?
So Sunday, I did some things I know he likes and we did eventually end up having sex. I was the definitely the aggressor and the instigator. I think it was more because there was nothing else to do. If any sport had been on, I would have been out of luck.
What you have to realize is we went 18 months without having sex. That's a year and a half. When I mentioned how long it had been, he denied it. When I pointed out the truth, he still didn't seem to want to believe it. There have been many times when we've gone three, four and five months without sex and I was sure it was my fault--now I'm not so sure. Certainly other couples were having sex more often than once or twice a year?
I think he wants it when he wants it. On his timing and the position he wants. I don't get a say. I don't think he likes it when I take the lead or suggest it. I think he wants me to be a tramp in bed, writhing and moaning and getting so much pleasure from his two or three things he does (every time)--but only when he wants. On his terms. I think I've been a fool thinking that we'd have sex more if I suggested sex more. He doesn't want it if I instigate it. He doesn't want it if I'm the initiator. Oh, wait, I can be the initiator if he wants me to be the initiator. What a mess. I'm only supposed to like and want it when he wants me to like it and want it. Last but not least. I'm not supposed to reject his advances. If he gets the slightest idea that I might say no--which I never do--he won't suggest any sex. He shuts down.
So my prologue to this is that I offered him the "other" on Wednesday night. I'm embarrassed to type it, so I will call it the "other". I offered that two nights ago. He hopped into bed. The "other" is usually pretty quick because--well--I know what to do. I asked him if he was clean. He says he thought I was kidding. I said I wasn't. I half expected him to jump out of bed and get a quick shower to freshen up. Instead he says he's not clean, he'll definitely take a shower later in the evening so he'll be clean. He promised to think about it all day Thursday and would be ready on Thursday night.
Hmmm. Again, what is going on here?
As you can tell my looking at the timeline here, It's Friday--again. I did not offer the "other". Instead, he stayed up until 10:45 on the computer. I'll admit there were some other things going on in the house at that time, but there have been quite a few nights in the last three weeks he as stayed up until 11:00 reading or on the computer, but he tells me we better make it quick because he has to get up in the morning. He gets up the same time every morning.
For him, there is only on and off. He won't do anything sexual unless he can be absolutely sure beyond a shadow of a doubt we are going to have sex. He's told me so. No making out, no fooling around, period. What the heck is that?
I'm not going to go the rest of my life having sex on his schedule--on his terms. That's a crock.
I do want to add here for those that may be thinking it's because I've let myself go, or I've gotten fat or whatever junk you might fill your own mind with. I've been a size 16/18 for years and years. Before that I was a size 13/14 for the early part of our relationship. I was a size 10 when we got married.
I was 20.
I've always been a big girl by society's standards. He knew that. I think I carry it well and with confidence. If he had a problem with my weight, he probably wouldn't have been attracted to me to begin with--24 years ago.
I can't spend anymore time on this topic. I'm frustrated. Not because of what I've written here, but because it symbolizes everything our lives have been.
So I'll open with a huge WARNING:
This blog talks about old married sex. Not glamorous, not cosmopolitan, not even imaginative sex. Old . . . married . . . sex. So if you don't want to read about my struggles to understand my husband and myself, you definitely shouldn't read any further. If you're the slightest bit curious about someone else's sex life besides your own, this may be the spot for you.
I've known for a little while that my husband needs a mom--a mother. Someone to think he's wonderful no matter what he does. Farts and all. Someone that pretty much lets him do whatever he wants when he wants as long as he doesn't get in the way. Someone he can wear down until he has everything just the way he wants it.
Hmmm.
Pretty much what he had from his own mother.
She thinks he's wonderful.
I know better.
So a week ago in my ongoing effort to be more sexually overt I suggested we have sex. I suggested it the same way last Friday. In plenty of time to get showers and smell good for each other. (I told you this was old married sex) Last Friday my suggestion was greeted with a disgruntled sigh and the suggestion we make it quick because he has to get up early in the morning. So this Friday, knowing he didn't have to get up as early, I suggested sex again. He seemed all too quick to point out that oh yes, indeed, he did have to get up in the morning and if that's what I wanted to do, we should probably get started.
It just didn't set well with me. What is going on here? That is two Fridays in a row he's seemed disinterested in sex. What man turns down sex?
So Sunday, I did some things I know he likes and we did eventually end up having sex. I was the definitely the aggressor and the instigator. I think it was more because there was nothing else to do. If any sport had been on, I would have been out of luck.
What you have to realize is we went 18 months without having sex. That's a year and a half. When I mentioned how long it had been, he denied it. When I pointed out the truth, he still didn't seem to want to believe it. There have been many times when we've gone three, four and five months without sex and I was sure it was my fault--now I'm not so sure. Certainly other couples were having sex more often than once or twice a year?
I think he wants it when he wants it. On his timing and the position he wants. I don't get a say. I don't think he likes it when I take the lead or suggest it. I think he wants me to be a tramp in bed, writhing and moaning and getting so much pleasure from his two or three things he does (every time)--but only when he wants. On his terms. I think I've been a fool thinking that we'd have sex more if I suggested sex more. He doesn't want it if I instigate it. He doesn't want it if I'm the initiator. Oh, wait, I can be the initiator if he wants me to be the initiator. What a mess. I'm only supposed to like and want it when he wants me to like it and want it. Last but not least. I'm not supposed to reject his advances. If he gets the slightest idea that I might say no--which I never do--he won't suggest any sex. He shuts down.
So my prologue to this is that I offered him the "other" on Wednesday night. I'm embarrassed to type it, so I will call it the "other". I offered that two nights ago. He hopped into bed. The "other" is usually pretty quick because--well--I know what to do. I asked him if he was clean. He says he thought I was kidding. I said I wasn't. I half expected him to jump out of bed and get a quick shower to freshen up. Instead he says he's not clean, he'll definitely take a shower later in the evening so he'll be clean. He promised to think about it all day Thursday and would be ready on Thursday night.
Hmmm. Again, what is going on here?
As you can tell my looking at the timeline here, It's Friday--again. I did not offer the "other". Instead, he stayed up until 10:45 on the computer. I'll admit there were some other things going on in the house at that time, but there have been quite a few nights in the last three weeks he as stayed up until 11:00 reading or on the computer, but he tells me we better make it quick because he has to get up in the morning. He gets up the same time every morning.
For him, there is only on and off. He won't do anything sexual unless he can be absolutely sure beyond a shadow of a doubt we are going to have sex. He's told me so. No making out, no fooling around, period. What the heck is that?
I'm not going to go the rest of my life having sex on his schedule--on his terms. That's a crock.
I do want to add here for those that may be thinking it's because I've let myself go, or I've gotten fat or whatever junk you might fill your own mind with. I've been a size 16/18 for years and years. Before that I was a size 13/14 for the early part of our relationship. I was a size 10 when we got married.
I was 20.
I've always been a big girl by society's standards. He knew that. I think I carry it well and with confidence. If he had a problem with my weight, he probably wouldn't have been attracted to me to begin with--24 years ago.
I can't spend anymore time on this topic. I'm frustrated. Not because of what I've written here, but because it symbolizes everything our lives have been.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Why Didn't I Feel Anything?
A sibling was in a car accident last night. I read it on facebook. Why didn't I feel anything? Why wasn't I concerned? Could it be as simple as the fact that she must be OK or she wouldn't be posting stuff on facebook? I don't know. It bothers me that I don't care the way other people seem to. Her friends were more interested in her post than I was. Her friends were more interested in her tragedy than I was. Should I want to be there for her? Shouldn't I want to call her and see if she's well--if I can do anything? Instead I just logged out and didn't give it a second thought until I decided to do a little blogging. What happened between us?
I remember taking a bat to her in late elementary school. I gave her a bloody nose. She laid down on the floor in the bathroom. My mother didn't do anything. I didn't get punished. I don't remember even being afraid of being punished. I remember my mother saying she had it coming. What had she been doing to me?
The was another time I had the same sister by the hair when I came home to find her wearing something of mine without asking. I was sitting on her and according to my mother I was banging her head on the floor. Again, I don't remember getting punished and I don't remember a big deal over the whole thing. I remember my mother saying she knew this day would come.
I had no memory of it, but one time, this same sister apologized to me for something I couldn't remember. Apparently, my mother had baked and iced a cake and she had been told to keep her fingers out of it. Well, like all small children, that's just an invitation. She swiped the side of the cake and ate the icing. When my mother found the trangression, my sister lied and told her that I had done it. I got the spanking. In my house spankings were not tools for discipline. It was always crazy when it was time to spank us. There was a lot of crying and begging and more crying. To this day, I wonder what the neighbors thought.
I remember taking a bat to her in late elementary school. I gave her a bloody nose. She laid down on the floor in the bathroom. My mother didn't do anything. I didn't get punished. I don't remember even being afraid of being punished. I remember my mother saying she had it coming. What had she been doing to me?
The was another time I had the same sister by the hair when I came home to find her wearing something of mine without asking. I was sitting on her and according to my mother I was banging her head on the floor. Again, I don't remember getting punished and I don't remember a big deal over the whole thing. I remember my mother saying she knew this day would come.
I had no memory of it, but one time, this same sister apologized to me for something I couldn't remember. Apparently, my mother had baked and iced a cake and she had been told to keep her fingers out of it. Well, like all small children, that's just an invitation. She swiped the side of the cake and ate the icing. When my mother found the trangression, my sister lied and told her that I had done it. I got the spanking. In my house spankings were not tools for discipline. It was always crazy when it was time to spank us. There was a lot of crying and begging and more crying. To this day, I wonder what the neighbors thought.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Fitness: Two Hills and My Sit Bones
I decided to mix up my ride a little and take the two small hills down a long straight road near my house. I don't care too much for the road because it's a little more busy than the others and means cars going around me or approaching me on blind hills. However, it just felt like something I wanted to do. There are two more small hills I can practice riding before I go to North Carolina--again.
A lot of my strength and stamina began returning toward the end of the week. I made it to the end of the street I was riding on, so that was a total of 22 minutes of constant peddling at a pretty stiff pace.
I bought a Terry bike saddle probably about a year ago. It seemed like the thing to do. My saddle was making my "lady bits" go numb and my butt hurt like you can't believe--for days. I decided on the Terry saddle because it got pretty rave reviews. I do have to admit it is comfortable, but I've been forever toughening my sit bones. This saddle is one of those little seats--it doesn't look exactly like this one--but it is the flx version. I think mine has been discontinued since then. I really like it. Of course my rear hangs over, but I'd have to be a stick figure for that not to happen. Some women don't like the hang over, so they pick bigger saddles. They are doing themselves an injustice.
I did a lot of reading and looking around. People really do seem to like these the Terry brand. I like the idea that the saddle doesn't conform. My other one that came with the bike mashed with riding and became uncomfortable. Thus, the numb "lady bits". I think the pressure points were too narrow--like for a man?
This Terry lands just right. I have one spot on my anatomy that still gets to tingling after about 20 minutes of riding, but a quick adjustment to sit back a little bit and everything seems to get right.
I'd like to work up to taking both the hills twice with a long straight away in between before I go back up to North Carolina. Let's see where I am in another week or two.
A lot of my strength and stamina began returning toward the end of the week. I made it to the end of the street I was riding on, so that was a total of 22 minutes of constant peddling at a pretty stiff pace.
I bought a Terry bike saddle probably about a year ago. It seemed like the thing to do. My saddle was making my "lady bits" go numb and my butt hurt like you can't believe--for days. I decided on the Terry saddle because it got pretty rave reviews. I do have to admit it is comfortable, but I've been forever toughening my sit bones. This saddle is one of those little seats--it doesn't look exactly like this one--but it is the flx version. I think mine has been discontinued since then. I really like it. Of course my rear hangs over, but I'd have to be a stick figure for that not to happen. Some women don't like the hang over, so they pick bigger saddles. They are doing themselves an injustice.
 |
| This is not the exact seat. I got this picture from the website. It has taken some getting used to, but I can feel my sit bones getting tougher. |
This Terry lands just right. I have one spot on my anatomy that still gets to tingling after about 20 minutes of riding, but a quick adjustment to sit back a little bit and everything seems to get right.
I'd like to work up to taking both the hills twice with a long straight away in between before I go back up to North Carolina. Let's see where I am in another week or two.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Books and Movies: Ugly Chicks Don't Sell Tickets
I love movies. I really love movies. Now don't get me wrong there are a few movies that come and go and I'm not really interested in them like the movies that seem to hatch a string of movies just like the parent movie. Eh, not so much. I'm also growing weary of the "lovable loser/reluctant hero".
About "lovable losers". For Hollywood, in most cases this guy would never get within two states of his costar. He's scruffy, accident prone, goofy, too skinny, a font of not so funny quips and she's just plain drop dead, coma-inducing hot. At the very least, they kiss by the end of the movie. For him, at the greatest, it's a romp in the hay. This would never happen. That's why they keep doing this. Girls think it's romantic and guys, well, they dig the idea that the goofy one--he one just like them--gets the fantasy girl.
Why does the quirky girl star get a guy just as much a loser as she is? This really ticks me off. Think about it.
So there are a few TV shows coming out that have quirky loser girls, but their hot. They just have a few social inadequacies that the next guy that comes into their life will surely cure. Then thanks to their room mate or next boyfriend, they'll be all fixed up.
Whatever.
What about the girl who is a lovable loser and couldn't get within two states of her hot, sexy, male, costar? When does that happen? I don't think it will. Ugly chicks don't sell movie seats.
About "lovable losers". For Hollywood, in most cases this guy would never get within two states of his costar. He's scruffy, accident prone, goofy, too skinny, a font of not so funny quips and she's just plain drop dead, coma-inducing hot. At the very least, they kiss by the end of the movie. For him, at the greatest, it's a romp in the hay. This would never happen. That's why they keep doing this. Girls think it's romantic and guys, well, they dig the idea that the goofy one--he one just like them--gets the fantasy girl.
Why does the quirky girl star get a guy just as much a loser as she is? This really ticks me off. Think about it.
So there are a few TV shows coming out that have quirky loser girls, but their hot. They just have a few social inadequacies that the next guy that comes into their life will surely cure. Then thanks to their room mate or next boyfriend, they'll be all fixed up.
Whatever.
What about the girl who is a lovable loser and couldn't get within two states of her hot, sexy, male, costar? When does that happen? I don't think it will. Ugly chicks don't sell movie seats.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Winter of Our Discontent: Has It Been a Year Already?
On the way home from a trip to JoAnn Fabrics, my husband mentioned that it had been a year since we'd been up to see my parent's for fourth of July. For me, it is a much more monumental year. It has almost been a year since I decided to end the "affair". How do I feel? Strange. I feel strange. I look at the calendar and know that a year ago I was ready to do something so wrong with someone so wrong. I've changed this year.
While we were on the way home we decided to visit a little wing place. It had been years since we'd been in. I was feeling carefree until I saw the car. A car I knew to be his. To seal the deal it even had a sticker on it from the university he went to. I had an easy time believing that he was in there and tried to swallow the irony that we would be discussing the year past and I would have the unfortunate task of enjoying my meal with the man I chose and the man I rejected in the same restaurant.
It would be the first time I'd see him in over a year. What would I do? Would I acknowledge him? Ignore him?
It was surprisingly empty when we walked in. I was able to scan the guests and tables quickly. I didn't see him, but that didn't mean he wasn't in a booth I couldn't see from my vantage point. I felt ugly and fat. There was a time there I'd felt confident that if I was to see him he'd "see what he lost" by being a jerk. He'd said I was fat. He'd said that it didn't matter--that it was the "whole package". I wondered what package he was referring to. I am five years older than him and fat. I think it was the "easy target" package.
We took the second booth we walked by and I continued to scan the restaurant as subtly as I could. I checked the bar area, the big tables the small booths. He was not in this restaurant. We ordered and I waited for him to come out of the restroom or from a corner I couldn't see.
Finally, I saw a young family leave the restaurant and approach the little SUV with the college sticker in the window. She had a tiny one holding her hand and the the man was definitely not him. Definitely. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Even though I know I went my whole life here without meeting him, I know that someday I am going to see him again and someday all those things I said and did are going to flood back. The only thing I can hope for is that when that day comes I will be ready and feel confident in my decision.
While we were on the way home we decided to visit a little wing place. It had been years since we'd been in. I was feeling carefree until I saw the car. A car I knew to be his. To seal the deal it even had a sticker on it from the university he went to. I had an easy time believing that he was in there and tried to swallow the irony that we would be discussing the year past and I would have the unfortunate task of enjoying my meal with the man I chose and the man I rejected in the same restaurant.
It would be the first time I'd see him in over a year. What would I do? Would I acknowledge him? Ignore him?
It was surprisingly empty when we walked in. I was able to scan the guests and tables quickly. I didn't see him, but that didn't mean he wasn't in a booth I couldn't see from my vantage point. I felt ugly and fat. There was a time there I'd felt confident that if I was to see him he'd "see what he lost" by being a jerk. He'd said I was fat. He'd said that it didn't matter--that it was the "whole package". I wondered what package he was referring to. I am five years older than him and fat. I think it was the "easy target" package.
We took the second booth we walked by and I continued to scan the restaurant as subtly as I could. I checked the bar area, the big tables the small booths. He was not in this restaurant. We ordered and I waited for him to come out of the restroom or from a corner I couldn't see.
Finally, I saw a young family leave the restaurant and approach the little SUV with the college sticker in the window. She had a tiny one holding her hand and the the man was definitely not him. Definitely. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Even though I know I went my whole life here without meeting him, I know that someday I am going to see him again and someday all those things I said and did are going to flood back. The only thing I can hope for is that when that day comes I will be ready and feel confident in my decision.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Mental Messages: Picture From the Past
A picture a sibling posted on facebook has me thinking--a lot. I'm about 3 or 4 years old, it is Christmas and I am disappointed. Plainly and clearly disappointed. Meanwhile another sibling--not the one that posted the photo. Is in the bottom corner of the photo looking happy and satisfied. I am disappointed.
I also notice that I am undeniably chunky. A round face, round belly and chubby hands. I've seen pictures of myself as a little girl many times and noticed that my early childhood years were chubby years. I slimmed down by the time I was in late elementary school, but not enough to open the doors to opportunity.
I remember now the lisp I had as late as 3rd or 4th grade. I remember the teacher pointing it out to my mother and my mother being surprised to hear I had a lisp. I clearly had a lisp. I also remember the day it was discovered I would wear glasses for the rest of my life. My mother and I were riding around looking for an address. She asked me to tell her the name of a street and I couldn't see it.
I put all these things together and I think. I think about how I must have been to my fellow classmates. Small but just a little chubby. Glasses. Unruly blonde hair. How these things add up, I don't know, but it's a possible portal into why I am the way I am.
I guess seeing that disappointment on my face at such a tiny little girl made me realize that I have a lifetime of unmet expectations. That little moment in time says so much to me about what I need to do to change what time I do have left on this earth.
I also notice that I am undeniably chunky. A round face, round belly and chubby hands. I've seen pictures of myself as a little girl many times and noticed that my early childhood years were chubby years. I slimmed down by the time I was in late elementary school, but not enough to open the doors to opportunity.
I remember now the lisp I had as late as 3rd or 4th grade. I remember the teacher pointing it out to my mother and my mother being surprised to hear I had a lisp. I clearly had a lisp. I also remember the day it was discovered I would wear glasses for the rest of my life. My mother and I were riding around looking for an address. She asked me to tell her the name of a street and I couldn't see it.
I put all these things together and I think. I think about how I must have been to my fellow classmates. Small but just a little chubby. Glasses. Unruly blonde hair. How these things add up, I don't know, but it's a possible portal into why I am the way I am.
I guess seeing that disappointment on my face at such a tiny little girl made me realize that I have a lifetime of unmet expectations. That little moment in time says so much to me about what I need to do to change what time I do have left on this earth.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Let's Get Organized: Not #3 A Surprising Outcome
Two nights ago I got the urge to clean my kitchen cabinets. I couldn't sleep. I cleaned. I only wish I'd taken some pictures for you. The whole thing started when my coffee maker made a mess all over my counter. It ran under the spice rack and the George Foreman Grill and the Olive decanter and the vitamins. What a mess! As I was moving this stuff to clean under it I realized it had been too long since I'd wiped any of it off. Everyting had hair, cobwebs and just plain ol' dust in a healthy--or unhealthy--layer all over.
Let me say I use Windex for everything. EVERYTHING. Windex works on grease buildup like nothing else. So I started spraying everything and wiping it down and that brings me back to the whole reason I decided to do the kitchen.
The thing about this time around is I'm going to be taking my time and really considering my needs for the future. I'm going be done with school in a few years and those years will be going by quickly. Do I want to be fooling with all this crap when I'm ready to start my new life? No. So to me it doesn't matter how organized it is, if I don't need it, it's that much less I have to worry about organizing--or keeping organized.
This may not look like it's organized like a professional might come in and do, but what I see here is about half what was here and I can see it all to find it and use it. We were wasting way too much food and space. I still have the other half of the kitchen to go. That's the pots and pans and under the sink. I already took a great deal of the contents of these cabinets to charity last year, so this will just be a matter of going back through it and straightening it up.
Let me say I use Windex for everything. EVERYTHING. Windex works on grease buildup like nothing else. So I started spraying everything and wiping it down and that brings me back to the whole reason I decided to do the kitchen.
The thing about this time around is I'm going to be taking my time and really considering my needs for the future. I'm going be done with school in a few years and those years will be going by quickly. Do I want to be fooling with all this crap when I'm ready to start my new life? No. So to me it doesn't matter how organized it is, if I don't need it, it's that much less I have to worry about organizing--or keeping organized.
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| This is my "ingredients" cabinet now. It's next to the stove where I can reach it and even though you can't see here, I moved the sweet stuff for baking to the left and the spices for cooking to the right. |
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| This cabinet was so full I could see anything. Now it hold only breakfast, pastas and sauces, and legumes. |
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| This cabinet has all the "ready to eat" foods in it. I have a blind spot on the far left. I put the over- abundance of plastic silverware there with a big red arrow to remind me it's there. |
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| This is the last cabinet in the kitchen. It seemed like a great place to store medicines. (I went through a Metamucil phase) My best wine glasses and rarely used tea cups are on the top shelf. I need to drink more tea when I have company. |
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| This is the to the right of the "ready to eat" cabinet. It's drinks and snacks. |
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Fitness: 20 poles
I've been back riding my bike for about two weeks. I ride 20 telephone poles past the point I got to on the very first day. I have felt a little sluggish these two days after feeling pretty good the end of last week and into the weekend. I took my bike on one of my husband's presure washing jobs so I could ride the neighborhood.
There's a nice road that leads out to the highway. I rode the highway for a few minutes then headed back. That ride was about 25 minutes. I wanted to make it worth my while.
My weight has been as low as 204 and as high as 208 this week. The trend on the graph for the last 21 days shows an increase in my overal weight. That's a little more disappointing that I care to dwell on.
I am still drinking my 128 ounces of water each day and an occasional unsweet tea. However, this weekend was a fail. I drank a diet soda, tea with sugar in it and dessert. Maybe that's why I weighted 208 on Sunday? I'm shrugging here because I don't know.
I got back on my weight lifting regime yesterday for a Monday, Wednesday, Friday plan. It's amazing how quickly it's lost. Supposedly though, once it's been there it only takes 50 percent as much effort to get it back. Does that mean that the second time around it's really only 25 percent as much effort as the original time or does that just count against the last time? Ah well, at any rate, it appears I'm back to exercising and it feels good.
There's a nice road that leads out to the highway. I rode the highway for a few minutes then headed back. That ride was about 25 minutes. I wanted to make it worth my while.
My weight has been as low as 204 and as high as 208 this week. The trend on the graph for the last 21 days shows an increase in my overal weight. That's a little more disappointing that I care to dwell on.
I am still drinking my 128 ounces of water each day and an occasional unsweet tea. However, this weekend was a fail. I drank a diet soda, tea with sugar in it and dessert. Maybe that's why I weighted 208 on Sunday? I'm shrugging here because I don't know.
I got back on my weight lifting regime yesterday for a Monday, Wednesday, Friday plan. It's amazing how quickly it's lost. Supposedly though, once it's been there it only takes 50 percent as much effort to get it back. Does that mean that the second time around it's really only 25 percent as much effort as the original time or does that just count against the last time? Ah well, at any rate, it appears I'm back to exercising and it feels good.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Fitness Tuesday: I Know It's Not Tuesday, but . . .
Two things are happening. I've gotten my bike ride back up to about 15 minutes of pretty vigorous peddling. I feel a tightening in my core! I really do. I'm not doing anything else but riding my bike right now, so that has to be it. The balance required to ride must be doing something for my core. I'm excited about this discovery.
Second, I discovered by my treadmill is not broken. The problem is, it's not designed for running. The fact that it can go 6 mph does not mean it can do a sustained 6 mph. The little motor is only intended for walking and light running. So I thought, hey, I wonder if I was to just plug it in, if it would work? So I did. I plugged it in and it worked. I have not gotten on it to see if it will run with me on it, but whatever was wrong with it when it stopped cold has fixed itself. My husband says it may have some kind of inner breaker to protect the motor. I'm going to get on it this evening.
Second, I discovered by my treadmill is not broken. The problem is, it's not designed for running. The fact that it can go 6 mph does not mean it can do a sustained 6 mph. The little motor is only intended for walking and light running. So I thought, hey, I wonder if I was to just plug it in, if it would work? So I did. I plugged it in and it worked. I have not gotten on it to see if it will run with me on it, but whatever was wrong with it when it stopped cold has fixed itself. My husband says it may have some kind of inner breaker to protect the motor. I'm going to get on it this evening.
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