I'm watching an absurd show on the Discovery Times channel. Some guy is following the path of the holy grail as outlined by Dan Brown in The DaVinci Code. He keeps promising extraordinary revelations, all of which, of course, turn out to be a bunch of bosh.
Has no one heard of the concept of fiction? While I may say that I know my characters so well that I believe I'll run into them on the street someday, I still know that I've made them up. I devoutly hope that no one tries to follow the clues in my books in order to find the treasures that my characters find.
Fiction, people! Fiction! Imagination!
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Friday, December 30, 2005
Fifteen Things About Me and Books
1. I don't do public libraries. The highest fine I've ever had to pay was in the neighborhood of $150. It would have been higher, but I talked them into waiving some fees. When one considers all the library fines I've paid in my life, I still come out ahead by buying books instead of checking them out. I don't understand my mother, who manages to go to the library, check out books, and return them on time.
2. When I was in 5th grade, I fell in love with a book in the YA section at our little public library in Albany, Georgia. Much to my regret, I recall neither the title nor the author. It was set in Scotland, and there was a character named Kelpie who had the "sight." There were two brothers, one who hated her and one who loved her, and of course she ended up with the brother who hated her. I probably paid for that book five times over with all the fines. I should have just kept it!
3. Another favorite book when I was a kid was Adopted Jane. When I was living in Anaheim, I was delighted to come across it at the enormous public library in Orange County, and was highly tempted to forget to return it. My honesty won out, and later I was lucky enough to run across a battered paperback copy at a used book store.
4. When I was 8 or 9, I bitterly resented being sent to bed when I wanted to keep reading. I'm not quite sure why it never dawned on me to sneak a flashlight under the covers. I would place my lamp on the floor, cover it up with my blanket, and hide under the blanket and read. That worked for a while, until the blanket drooped a little bit. The hot light bulb burned a neat hole in the blanket, and I got busted.
5. When I was in 4th grade, we had some silent reading time. Being an exceptionally fast reader, I finished very quickly. I went to the teacher to find out what she wanted me to do next. She didn't believe that I had read the whole story, and asked me some very obscure question from the text. When I couldn't answer it, she told me to go back to my seat, read the story, and don't tell any more lies. I hated that teacher.
6. I began a love affair with Jane Eyre that has lasted until this day. I never know when the urge to read it will hit me, but I must have a copy available at all times. That's why I have it on my e-book reader as well as on my bookshelf at home. An acquaintance introduced me to Wide Sargasso Sea, which tells the story of Bertha, Rochester's mad wife. Wow!
7. My 9th grade English teacher opened up our class period one day by telling us that we had to read A Tale of Two Cities. It was a horrible book, she said, and terribly boring and we were going to hate it. She told us that we were not to complain to her under any circumstances, because she hated it as well. I went home that night and read the book. I went to school the next day and told her she was crazy. And no, I'm afraid that she wasn't using reverse psychology; she genuinely seemed to loathe the book.
8. We lived for a year or so in a rented red brick house in Albany, Georgia. There were huge pecan trees in the backyard. Whenever my mother kicked me out of my chair and told me to "go outside and play," I took a book and climbed one of the trees and sat hidden amongst the leaves and read, and thought how terribly romantic it was, to be reading while in a treetop.
9. I went through a brief pseudo-intellectual phase when I was in my 20s. The bookcases in my living room were full of the books that showed off how erudite I was, and everything else was hidden in my bedroom. Fortunately, I got over that phase in relatively short order; I've read every book that is in my house and in my storage unit, and many more besides.
10. I had to have my tonsils out when I was in the 7th grade. The only thing that reconciled me to having the surgery performed was my mother promising to take me to the used bookstore where I could buy a whole bagful of books to read while I was recovering from the surgery. My mother rocks!
11. I hate Vanity Fair. Had it been required for me to graduate, I'd have been in serious trouble. I tried multiple times to wade through it, and got bogged down in Thackeray's interminable prose. After watching the movie with Reese Witherspoon, and liking it, I tried once more. Didn't happen. Ain't gonna happen. And I hope to heavens I never have to teach that damn book!
12. Because I read so rapidly, I run out of reading material quickly when I'm traveling. My husband used to find it amusing to see me pack three or four paperbacks into my backpack whenever we flew to Buffalo, until he had to buy me another set of paperbacks in Chicago on layover or else at Buffalo before we flew back home. And the time our plane had a three or four hour delay, I nearly went crazy for something to read. Now I have an e-book reader, I can carry around a hundred or more books in the space of a paperback, so we don't have to worry about that little problem anymore.
13. I have an irrational prejudice against people who turn to the last few pages of the book and read the ending before they read the book. I think they're cheating themselves, and being unfaithful to the writer. I remember once reading a P.D. James novel, and just dying to find out how it ended. I read faster and faster until I got to the end; my roommate was watching me with a bemused look on her face. She never knew anyone could read that fast.
14. I stole my mother's copy of The Unwilling Vestal when I was around 13 or 14. She found it at my house a few years ago, politely borrowed it long enough to scan it for Project Gutenberg, and then sent it back to me. Did I mention that my mother rocks?
15. Like Trista, I want a job where I get to sit around and read books. Oh, wait--I already have one. It's the job I have right now, where I run out of work between 10-11 most days, and get to sit around and read books at Project Gutenberg or Blackmask all afternoon.
2. When I was in 5th grade, I fell in love with a book in the YA section at our little public library in Albany, Georgia. Much to my regret, I recall neither the title nor the author. It was set in Scotland, and there was a character named Kelpie who had the "sight." There were two brothers, one who hated her and one who loved her, and of course she ended up with the brother who hated her. I probably paid for that book five times over with all the fines. I should have just kept it!
3. Another favorite book when I was a kid was Adopted Jane. When I was living in Anaheim, I was delighted to come across it at the enormous public library in Orange County, and was highly tempted to forget to return it. My honesty won out, and later I was lucky enough to run across a battered paperback copy at a used book store.
4. When I was 8 or 9, I bitterly resented being sent to bed when I wanted to keep reading. I'm not quite sure why it never dawned on me to sneak a flashlight under the covers. I would place my lamp on the floor, cover it up with my blanket, and hide under the blanket and read. That worked for a while, until the blanket drooped a little bit. The hot light bulb burned a neat hole in the blanket, and I got busted.
5. When I was in 4th grade, we had some silent reading time. Being an exceptionally fast reader, I finished very quickly. I went to the teacher to find out what she wanted me to do next. She didn't believe that I had read the whole story, and asked me some very obscure question from the text. When I couldn't answer it, she told me to go back to my seat, read the story, and don't tell any more lies. I hated that teacher.
6. I began a love affair with Jane Eyre that has lasted until this day. I never know when the urge to read it will hit me, but I must have a copy available at all times. That's why I have it on my e-book reader as well as on my bookshelf at home. An acquaintance introduced me to Wide Sargasso Sea, which tells the story of Bertha, Rochester's mad wife. Wow!
7. My 9th grade English teacher opened up our class period one day by telling us that we had to read A Tale of Two Cities. It was a horrible book, she said, and terribly boring and we were going to hate it. She told us that we were not to complain to her under any circumstances, because she hated it as well. I went home that night and read the book. I went to school the next day and told her she was crazy. And no, I'm afraid that she wasn't using reverse psychology; she genuinely seemed to loathe the book.
8. We lived for a year or so in a rented red brick house in Albany, Georgia. There were huge pecan trees in the backyard. Whenever my mother kicked me out of my chair and told me to "go outside and play," I took a book and climbed one of the trees and sat hidden amongst the leaves and read, and thought how terribly romantic it was, to be reading while in a treetop.
9. I went through a brief pseudo-intellectual phase when I was in my 20s. The bookcases in my living room were full of the books that showed off how erudite I was, and everything else was hidden in my bedroom. Fortunately, I got over that phase in relatively short order; I've read every book that is in my house and in my storage unit, and many more besides.
10. I had to have my tonsils out when I was in the 7th grade. The only thing that reconciled me to having the surgery performed was my mother promising to take me to the used bookstore where I could buy a whole bagful of books to read while I was recovering from the surgery. My mother rocks!
11. I hate Vanity Fair. Had it been required for me to graduate, I'd have been in serious trouble. I tried multiple times to wade through it, and got bogged down in Thackeray's interminable prose. After watching the movie with Reese Witherspoon, and liking it, I tried once more. Didn't happen. Ain't gonna happen. And I hope to heavens I never have to teach that damn book!
12. Because I read so rapidly, I run out of reading material quickly when I'm traveling. My husband used to find it amusing to see me pack three or four paperbacks into my backpack whenever we flew to Buffalo, until he had to buy me another set of paperbacks in Chicago on layover or else at Buffalo before we flew back home. And the time our plane had a three or four hour delay, I nearly went crazy for something to read. Now I have an e-book reader, I can carry around a hundred or more books in the space of a paperback, so we don't have to worry about that little problem anymore.
13. I have an irrational prejudice against people who turn to the last few pages of the book and read the ending before they read the book. I think they're cheating themselves, and being unfaithful to the writer. I remember once reading a P.D. James novel, and just dying to find out how it ended. I read faster and faster until I got to the end; my roommate was watching me with a bemused look on her face. She never knew anyone could read that fast.
14. I stole my mother's copy of The Unwilling Vestal when I was around 13 or 14. She found it at my house a few years ago, politely borrowed it long enough to scan it for Project Gutenberg, and then sent it back to me. Did I mention that my mother rocks?
15. Like Trista, I want a job where I get to sit around and read books. Oh, wait--I already have one. It's the job I have right now, where I run out of work between 10-11 most days, and get to sit around and read books at Project Gutenberg or Blackmask all afternoon.
The Keys to My Heart
| The Keys to Your Heart |
 In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored. You'd like to your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change. You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please. Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something precious. You'll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred. In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily. |
That's pretty much it!
Suckage--Major Suckage
Last night I had trouble sleeping because every muscle in my body was aching, thanks to Billy Blankety-blanks and his dang Boot Camp. I made it 15 minutes into the Basic Training DVD before collapsing in sheer physical exhaustion. Yesterday I was sore. Last night I didn't sleep well. This morning I can hardly move. Liz doesn't want me to do this DVD again. I disagree. I think that if I do another 15 minutes tonight that will help get the muscles loosened up a little bit. I'm not going to do it every day until I can make it every other day through the whole workout , but I am going to do as much as I can every other day. I am not going to spend the rest of my life being a miserable, fat, unhealthy woman. I'd rather be a miserable, slim, unhealthy woman! The clothes are cuter, and cheaper, and they look better.
I think the events of yesterday also contributed to my difficulty in sleeping. Here's what happened yesterday:
I was working away when the HR person called. "Faith, do you own a white Rodeo?"
"Yes."
"There are two men here who want to see you."
Oh-kay, so what's going on? I couldn't remember running any red lights, and doubted anyone would track me down at work just for that anyway. So I go across the hall where I am met by two police officers from the Bedford PD. It turns out that there was a hit-and-run accident that allegedly happened in my work parking lot, and the police officer was asking how I got the damage to my car. I explained that I was backing out of my driveway at home and accidentally hit my husband's work van. He asked when it happened, what color the van was, etc., and then said that the car that was hit has white paint on it, and my bumper has maroon paint. Could I explain that? Well, no, but I can promise you that I did not commit a hit and run. I would NEVER do such a thing.
By the time they left, I was shaking and just a nervous wreck. I called Joe, who exploded. He got in said work van and drove up to my office and walked around the parking lot to see if he could identify the car to see if the damage matched my bumper.
I have to stop here and point out that I work for a non-prime auto finance company, and they do a lot of repos. It was break time when Joe got here. Back to the narrative.
Joe was talking to me on the cell phone and I heard one of my co-workers approach to ask if he needed any help. To my horror, I heard Joe say that it was none of his business. Then I heard Joe get a little more belligerent. I was practically yelling into the phone for him to chill out, but he didn't hear me. I hung up and sat at my desk and sobbed. In less than an hour, I'd had the police show up to ask me about an accident that I didn't cause and had my husband show up in the parking lot and make a scene.
A few minutes later, Joe called me back and said that he was going to go talk to the police, and that everything was cool with him and the guys in the parking lot. He said they knew who I am and they like me and think I'm hysterically funny (huh?). He called back in another half hour to say that the police had looked at his van and agreed that the damage on my car was caused exactly the way I said it was, and that they had known all along that I didn't cause the damage to the other car. Why they didn't tell me that to begin with I can only chalk up to acute sadism.
The two guys that Joe got ugly with in the parking lot wandered into my office at various times, and I got to apologize to each of them. Fortunately they both have a good sense of humor, and can also appreciate that Joe is fiercely protective of me, so no harm was done.
My day was shot to hell and back, though, I have to say. I tried to get Liz to meet me for lunch, but our monster (a term of endearment, I promise) had to get her car serviced and had already snared Liz's services. So Liz and I made plans to meet up at my place at 7 p.m.
When I got home from work, Joe and I went to Olive Garden for dinner. I hate Olive Garden. Yes, the food is good enough, but it's overpriced, and it's just not my favorite place to go. But I got a good smoked mozzarella fondue and ate some salad, so it was fine. All Joe wanted to do, though, was rehash the events of the day. He insisted on showing me in great detail why I couldn't have caused the damage to the other car, even though I obviously knew I hadn't.
Liz and I went out for some retail therapy. I didn't have the best karma in the world, but did end up coming home with one outfit and some junk jewelry. I then came home, finished the edits on a book, and e-mailed it to Live Oak House, who is publishing it as an e-book. It's an LDS novel aimed at girls aged about 12-15. It has been unceremoniously rejected by every publisher I've sent it to on the grounds that they don't think the market for that age group would substantiate the publishing of the book. I think they're full of beans. Every girl of that age who has read the book has totally loved it and asked for more. I did have one publisher want me to pay something like $3K and they would publish it. I chose not to do that, if for no other reason than that I don't have $3K to throw away. So it will be an e-book.
I'm not going to write any more novels for the LDS market. It's too small a market, too competitive, and I think it's too limiting. I will finish up the infertility book I've started if for no other reason than that being an infertile woman in the LDS culture is like living in a unique hell. It's bad enough if you're able to otherwise fit into the culture. But if you're a complete misfit, as I am, it's just insanely unbearable. I used to hate going to church because of the stupid things people would say to me. I hate going to church now, but for different reasons.
One of my sisters came to live with me and Joe for 6 months a few years ago. She allegedly learned she was pregnant just before I flew out to Utah to drive back with her, and told me that she was going to let us adopt the child. Then she told me that she was going to keep the child. Then she told me that she was going to place him with LDS Family Services. Then she told me she didn't know what she was going to do. Through all of that, I was supportive of her and told her that she needed to do what was best for her child and her family. She moved back to Salt Lake a few months before the baby was born and I didn't hear anything more from her. On Father's Day 2004, I called my stepfather in SLC and was greeted with the news that (a) Alicia had given birth a few days previously and (b) placed him for adoption with a couple IN MY WARD!!!!!!! That was the most thoughtless and insensitive thing that she could possibly have done. To add injury to injury, the baby's new father was mine and Joe's home teacher, who knew that we had, at one time, been hoping to adopt the baby. I've made my peace with the situation to a larger extent than I had originally ever thought would be possible, but it still just kills me to go to church on Sunday and see this child who's not my nephew, not my son, not any relation to me. I wish they would move to another stake so I'd never have to see them again. I realize that's a selfish thought on my part. So I'm selfish. At least I'm honest about how I'm feeling. I hope that I can learn to deal with it better in the future, but for right now it's raw and painful.
I think the events of yesterday also contributed to my difficulty in sleeping. Here's what happened yesterday:
I was working away when the HR person called. "Faith, do you own a white Rodeo?"
"Yes."
"There are two men here who want to see you."
Oh-kay, so what's going on? I couldn't remember running any red lights, and doubted anyone would track me down at work just for that anyway. So I go across the hall where I am met by two police officers from the Bedford PD. It turns out that there was a hit-and-run accident that allegedly happened in my work parking lot, and the police officer was asking how I got the damage to my car. I explained that I was backing out of my driveway at home and accidentally hit my husband's work van. He asked when it happened, what color the van was, etc., and then said that the car that was hit has white paint on it, and my bumper has maroon paint. Could I explain that? Well, no, but I can promise you that I did not commit a hit and run. I would NEVER do such a thing.
By the time they left, I was shaking and just a nervous wreck. I called Joe, who exploded. He got in said work van and drove up to my office and walked around the parking lot to see if he could identify the car to see if the damage matched my bumper.
I have to stop here and point out that I work for a non-prime auto finance company, and they do a lot of repos. It was break time when Joe got here. Back to the narrative.
Joe was talking to me on the cell phone and I heard one of my co-workers approach to ask if he needed any help. To my horror, I heard Joe say that it was none of his business. Then I heard Joe get a little more belligerent. I was practically yelling into the phone for him to chill out, but he didn't hear me. I hung up and sat at my desk and sobbed. In less than an hour, I'd had the police show up to ask me about an accident that I didn't cause and had my husband show up in the parking lot and make a scene.
A few minutes later, Joe called me back and said that he was going to go talk to the police, and that everything was cool with him and the guys in the parking lot. He said they knew who I am and they like me and think I'm hysterically funny (huh?). He called back in another half hour to say that the police had looked at his van and agreed that the damage on my car was caused exactly the way I said it was, and that they had known all along that I didn't cause the damage to the other car. Why they didn't tell me that to begin with I can only chalk up to acute sadism.
The two guys that Joe got ugly with in the parking lot wandered into my office at various times, and I got to apologize to each of them. Fortunately they both have a good sense of humor, and can also appreciate that Joe is fiercely protective of me, so no harm was done.
My day was shot to hell and back, though, I have to say. I tried to get Liz to meet me for lunch, but our monster (a term of endearment, I promise) had to get her car serviced and had already snared Liz's services. So Liz and I made plans to meet up at my place at 7 p.m.
When I got home from work, Joe and I went to Olive Garden for dinner. I hate Olive Garden. Yes, the food is good enough, but it's overpriced, and it's just not my favorite place to go. But I got a good smoked mozzarella fondue and ate some salad, so it was fine. All Joe wanted to do, though, was rehash the events of the day. He insisted on showing me in great detail why I couldn't have caused the damage to the other car, even though I obviously knew I hadn't.
Liz and I went out for some retail therapy. I didn't have the best karma in the world, but did end up coming home with one outfit and some junk jewelry. I then came home, finished the edits on a book, and e-mailed it to Live Oak House, who is publishing it as an e-book. It's an LDS novel aimed at girls aged about 12-15. It has been unceremoniously rejected by every publisher I've sent it to on the grounds that they don't think the market for that age group would substantiate the publishing of the book. I think they're full of beans. Every girl of that age who has read the book has totally loved it and asked for more. I did have one publisher want me to pay something like $3K and they would publish it. I chose not to do that, if for no other reason than that I don't have $3K to throw away. So it will be an e-book.
I'm not going to write any more novels for the LDS market. It's too small a market, too competitive, and I think it's too limiting. I will finish up the infertility book I've started if for no other reason than that being an infertile woman in the LDS culture is like living in a unique hell. It's bad enough if you're able to otherwise fit into the culture. But if you're a complete misfit, as I am, it's just insanely unbearable. I used to hate going to church because of the stupid things people would say to me. I hate going to church now, but for different reasons.
One of my sisters came to live with me and Joe for 6 months a few years ago. She allegedly learned she was pregnant just before I flew out to Utah to drive back with her, and told me that she was going to let us adopt the child. Then she told me that she was going to keep the child. Then she told me that she was going to place him with LDS Family Services. Then she told me she didn't know what she was going to do. Through all of that, I was supportive of her and told her that she needed to do what was best for her child and her family. She moved back to Salt Lake a few months before the baby was born and I didn't hear anything more from her. On Father's Day 2004, I called my stepfather in SLC and was greeted with the news that (a) Alicia had given birth a few days previously and (b) placed him for adoption with a couple IN MY WARD!!!!!!! That was the most thoughtless and insensitive thing that she could possibly have done. To add injury to injury, the baby's new father was mine and Joe's home teacher, who knew that we had, at one time, been hoping to adopt the baby. I've made my peace with the situation to a larger extent than I had originally ever thought would be possible, but it still just kills me to go to church on Sunday and see this child who's not my nephew, not my son, not any relation to me. I wish they would move to another stake so I'd never have to see them again. I realize that's a selfish thought on my part. So I'm selfish. At least I'm honest about how I'm feeling. I hope that I can learn to deal with it better in the future, but for right now it's raw and painful.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
100 Things About Me, Part Two
51. When I was 3, I was kicked out of Sunday School for calling my teacher a bitch. In my defense, I was the daughter of a sailor. I knew what to say when I was mad at someone!
52. Along the same lines, when I'm angry, the first words out of my mouth are usually "dammit sonuvabitch!"
53. If I'm really angry or am having a truly heinous day, the preceding phrase will be repeated ad infinitum.
54. Like today, when the police came to see me at work making accusations of a hit and run accident in my work parking lot. Today I said "dammit sonuvabitch" about 20 times. And cried a lot.
55. Fortunately, it was proven that the accident could not have been caused by me, so I feel better.
56. I love Reese's peanut butter cups, peanut butter Hershey kisses, and peanut butter. Oh, yeah, and did I mention peanut butter?
57. I also love Starbucks caramel steamers.
58. I hate it when people pronounce "caramel" as "carmel." Aarrgh!
59. I like typing aarrgh!
60. When I was doing in-vitro fertilization, the day of the embryo transfer I was instructed to arrive at the doctor's office with a full bladder. I drank two bottles of water before getting there. They then had me drink another 3 bottles of water, before my doctor finally decided my bladder couldn't get any more full. After the embryo transfer, I had to wait 10 minutes before I could pee. That was a long 10 minutes.
61. My mother's original due date, when she was pregnant with me, was October 8th, 1963.
62. I was born on December 8th, 1963.
63. I might have been born on December 7th, 1963, but my mother was praying that I wouldn't be born on Pearl Harbor Day. I think my mother's crazy. After two extra months, I think she'd have done anything to get me out of there!
64. My car's name is Buffy. Yes, after that Buffy. Buffy the Vampire Slayer is blonde and kicks major booty. My car is white (blonde) and kicks major booty. But my car does not do hit-and-run accidents in the parking lot, or anywhere else.
65. My next car will be named Spike if it's white or Angel if it's black. I don't know what its name will be if it's a different color.
66. Joss Whedon is my master now.
67. I tried to do the Basic Training DVD last night from Billy's Boot Camp (Billy Blanks, of Tae-Bo fame). I made it 15 minutes, which basically got me through the warm-up.
68. Today my hamstrings are tender. So are my abs.
69. Whenever I see a grammatical, spelling, or punctuation error on signs, it is agonizingly difficult for me not to correct it.
70. Sometimes I don't succeed, and fix the error.
71. I don't understand why people can't understand the difference between its and it's. It's not that hard!
72. I once wrote "wash me" in the dust on a white Jaguar. That was fun!
73. One night after a play, I had a hot fudge sundae for dinner. That night I deservedly got a very bad case of heartburn, and woke my husband up while I was searching for the Tums. The next morning he told me he dreamed that I told him I had heartburn because I ate a hot fudge sundae for dinner. I told him that it wasn't a dream, and apologized for waking him up.
74. I think the most beautiful name in the English language is Sylvia.
75. When I was doing the in-vitro, I told my best friend's daughter that if I had 4 sons, I would name them John, Paul, George and Ringo. I told her if I had 3 sons, I would name them Larry, Moe, and Curly. She believed me.
76. I wouldn't have named them Larry, Moe, and Curly, but I might well have named them John, Paul, George, and Ringo.
77. My best friend loves me so much that during one portion of the IVF, when I had to have a daily shot in the butt, she came over to my house every day to give me the shot. And she even washed my dishes for me!
78. The worst meal to take someone recovering from surgery is sausage pizza. I appreciated the thought, but couldn't eat it. My husband enjoyed it, though.
79. The best meal for someone recovering from surgery is this yummy concoction a former friend made. She made some rice; a mild white sauce with shredded Swiss cheese; chicken breast; and mixed vegetables. It was easy on the stomach and tasted great. So now when I take a meal to someone recovering from surgery, that's what I always take.
80. Before my breast reduction surgery, I wore a DDD cup.
81. When I woke up in the recovery room after the breast reduction surgery, I told the nurse that it oughta be illegal for anything to hurt that badly. She gave me some more morphine, and I was out in seconds flat.
82. Now I wear a C cup.
83. During the first few months with my new perky little (for me) boobs, I used to flash my sister at work because I was so excited to have perky little (for me) boobs.
84. The caramel steamer at QT gas stations is cheaper than the caramel steamer at Starbucks, and it tastes better.
85. When I go grocery shopping, I dance to the music in the store and don't notice I'm doing it until someone gives me a strange look or else comments on it.
86. When my sister Liz goes to the movies with me, she prefers to have an empty seat between us because I fidget like crazy during the movie. If there's not room for an empty seat between us, she grabs my leg to make me stop fidgeting.
87. When she grabs my leg, it makes me fidget more.
88. I have a Picasso print hanging in my bathroom.
89. I have a Dali print in my hall.
90. I want a Kandinsky print for my home office.
91. My vision is at the point that I have to wear bifocals. But I have an astigmatism in each eye, which means I have to wear toric contact lenses. They don't make bifocal toric contacts. So when I wear glasses, I wear bifocals. When I wear contacts, I have to use reading glasses to see up close.
92. That makes me feel old.
93. I love Irish folk music. In my dream the night before last, I was singing "Cruiskeen Lawn" at the top of my lungs. I don't recall why, although it seemed perfectly logical in the dream.
94. Whatever song I hear when I first wake up, or the last song I sing/hear in my dreams, will stay in my head all morning. I type in rhythm to the song. That means that yesterday morning, I mentally sang "Cruiskeen Lawn" for 3 or 4 hours.
95. My favorite Irish folk song is "Shule Aroon." I don't know why I wasn't singing it instead of "Cruiskeen Lawn" in my dream.
96. I have the coolest sister in the world. She was born 8 years and 3 days after I was, and we have been the best of friends since she was born. Hey, Liz!
97. When I was 11 or 12, I hated washing dishes. And we didn't have an electric dishwasher, so I had to wash a lot of dishes. One day I got the bright idea to shove the particularly dirty dishes under the couch. Little by little I kept stuffing dishes under the couch. One night my father was playing with the cat, and flung his hand back and whacked it against something. He pulled out a dirty crusty saucepan from under the couch. Puzzled, he lifted up the flap and pulled out a few more dishes. I tried to creep out of the room, but it was too late. He moved the sofa, and revealed virtually every dish in the house in its unwashed, moldy, nasty, disgusting glory. I got my butt warmed thoroughly, and was then forced to wash every one of those damn dishes!
98. When I was in the process of being pottie trained, we had a Siamese cat named John-John. John-John knew how to use the toilet. My parents didn't know that, and thought it was I who was leaving little presents in the toilet. After a few spankings, I began running into the house and flushing the toilet. My parents couldn't figure that out until one morning my mother was home alone. She was in the bathroom brushing her teeth and heard someone going to the bathroom. Knowing that she was alone, she was very puzzled until she looked over to see John-John using the toilet.
99. My dad thinks that story is so funny that he tells it frequently.
100. I love puns. My all-time favorite joke has this for the punchline: "Well, dear, I hated to pith in it, but you know how you hate dry grapefruit." I tried to tell that joke a million times during my teen years, but could never get the punchline out without laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe. When my family finally heard the punchline, they agreed in unison that it wasn't nearly as funny as my hysterical laughter.
52. Along the same lines, when I'm angry, the first words out of my mouth are usually "dammit sonuvabitch!"
53. If I'm really angry or am having a truly heinous day, the preceding phrase will be repeated ad infinitum.
54. Like today, when the police came to see me at work making accusations of a hit and run accident in my work parking lot. Today I said "dammit sonuvabitch" about 20 times. And cried a lot.
55. Fortunately, it was proven that the accident could not have been caused by me, so I feel better.
56. I love Reese's peanut butter cups, peanut butter Hershey kisses, and peanut butter. Oh, yeah, and did I mention peanut butter?
57. I also love Starbucks caramel steamers.
58. I hate it when people pronounce "caramel" as "carmel." Aarrgh!
59. I like typing aarrgh!
60. When I was doing in-vitro fertilization, the day of the embryo transfer I was instructed to arrive at the doctor's office with a full bladder. I drank two bottles of water before getting there. They then had me drink another 3 bottles of water, before my doctor finally decided my bladder couldn't get any more full. After the embryo transfer, I had to wait 10 minutes before I could pee. That was a long 10 minutes.
61. My mother's original due date, when she was pregnant with me, was October 8th, 1963.
62. I was born on December 8th, 1963.
63. I might have been born on December 7th, 1963, but my mother was praying that I wouldn't be born on Pearl Harbor Day. I think my mother's crazy. After two extra months, I think she'd have done anything to get me out of there!
64. My car's name is Buffy. Yes, after that Buffy. Buffy the Vampire Slayer is blonde and kicks major booty. My car is white (blonde) and kicks major booty. But my car does not do hit-and-run accidents in the parking lot, or anywhere else.
65. My next car will be named Spike if it's white or Angel if it's black. I don't know what its name will be if it's a different color.
66. Joss Whedon is my master now.
67. I tried to do the Basic Training DVD last night from Billy's Boot Camp (Billy Blanks, of Tae-Bo fame). I made it 15 minutes, which basically got me through the warm-up.
68. Today my hamstrings are tender. So are my abs.
69. Whenever I see a grammatical, spelling, or punctuation error on signs, it is agonizingly difficult for me not to correct it.
70. Sometimes I don't succeed, and fix the error.
71. I don't understand why people can't understand the difference between its and it's. It's not that hard!
72. I once wrote "wash me" in the dust on a white Jaguar. That was fun!
73. One night after a play, I had a hot fudge sundae for dinner. That night I deservedly got a very bad case of heartburn, and woke my husband up while I was searching for the Tums. The next morning he told me he dreamed that I told him I had heartburn because I ate a hot fudge sundae for dinner. I told him that it wasn't a dream, and apologized for waking him up.
74. I think the most beautiful name in the English language is Sylvia.
75. When I was doing the in-vitro, I told my best friend's daughter that if I had 4 sons, I would name them John, Paul, George and Ringo. I told her if I had 3 sons, I would name them Larry, Moe, and Curly. She believed me.
76. I wouldn't have named them Larry, Moe, and Curly, but I might well have named them John, Paul, George, and Ringo.
77. My best friend loves me so much that during one portion of the IVF, when I had to have a daily shot in the butt, she came over to my house every day to give me the shot. And she even washed my dishes for me!
78. The worst meal to take someone recovering from surgery is sausage pizza. I appreciated the thought, but couldn't eat it. My husband enjoyed it, though.
79. The best meal for someone recovering from surgery is this yummy concoction a former friend made. She made some rice; a mild white sauce with shredded Swiss cheese; chicken breast; and mixed vegetables. It was easy on the stomach and tasted great. So now when I take a meal to someone recovering from surgery, that's what I always take.
80. Before my breast reduction surgery, I wore a DDD cup.
81. When I woke up in the recovery room after the breast reduction surgery, I told the nurse that it oughta be illegal for anything to hurt that badly. She gave me some more morphine, and I was out in seconds flat.
82. Now I wear a C cup.
83. During the first few months with my new perky little (for me) boobs, I used to flash my sister at work because I was so excited to have perky little (for me) boobs.
84. The caramel steamer at QT gas stations is cheaper than the caramel steamer at Starbucks, and it tastes better.
85. When I go grocery shopping, I dance to the music in the store and don't notice I'm doing it until someone gives me a strange look or else comments on it.
86. When my sister Liz goes to the movies with me, she prefers to have an empty seat between us because I fidget like crazy during the movie. If there's not room for an empty seat between us, she grabs my leg to make me stop fidgeting.
87. When she grabs my leg, it makes me fidget more.
88. I have a Picasso print hanging in my bathroom.
89. I have a Dali print in my hall.
90. I want a Kandinsky print for my home office.
91. My vision is at the point that I have to wear bifocals. But I have an astigmatism in each eye, which means I have to wear toric contact lenses. They don't make bifocal toric contacts. So when I wear glasses, I wear bifocals. When I wear contacts, I have to use reading glasses to see up close.
92. That makes me feel old.
93. I love Irish folk music. In my dream the night before last, I was singing "Cruiskeen Lawn" at the top of my lungs. I don't recall why, although it seemed perfectly logical in the dream.
94. Whatever song I hear when I first wake up, or the last song I sing/hear in my dreams, will stay in my head all morning. I type in rhythm to the song. That means that yesterday morning, I mentally sang "Cruiskeen Lawn" for 3 or 4 hours.
95. My favorite Irish folk song is "Shule Aroon." I don't know why I wasn't singing it instead of "Cruiskeen Lawn" in my dream.
96. I have the coolest sister in the world. She was born 8 years and 3 days after I was, and we have been the best of friends since she was born. Hey, Liz!
97. When I was 11 or 12, I hated washing dishes. And we didn't have an electric dishwasher, so I had to wash a lot of dishes. One day I got the bright idea to shove the particularly dirty dishes under the couch. Little by little I kept stuffing dishes under the couch. One night my father was playing with the cat, and flung his hand back and whacked it against something. He pulled out a dirty crusty saucepan from under the couch. Puzzled, he lifted up the flap and pulled out a few more dishes. I tried to creep out of the room, but it was too late. He moved the sofa, and revealed virtually every dish in the house in its unwashed, moldy, nasty, disgusting glory. I got my butt warmed thoroughly, and was then forced to wash every one of those damn dishes!
98. When I was in the process of being pottie trained, we had a Siamese cat named John-John. John-John knew how to use the toilet. My parents didn't know that, and thought it was I who was leaving little presents in the toilet. After a few spankings, I began running into the house and flushing the toilet. My parents couldn't figure that out until one morning my mother was home alone. She was in the bathroom brushing her teeth and heard someone going to the bathroom. Knowing that she was alone, she was very puzzled until she looked over to see John-John using the toilet.
99. My dad thinks that story is so funny that he tells it frequently.
100. I love puns. My all-time favorite joke has this for the punchline: "Well, dear, I hated to pith in it, but you know how you hate dry grapefruit." I tried to tell that joke a million times during my teen years, but could never get the punchline out without laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe. When my family finally heard the punchline, they agreed in unison that it wasn't nearly as funny as my hysterical laughter.
Game of Sevens
Seven things I want to do before I die:
--Go to Egypt
--Write a best-seller
--Go see every play on Broadway
--Go on my self-created American Literature tour
--Make a positive difference in the world
--Go to the Louvre and spend as much time as it takes to see everything!
--See a Shakespeare play in the Globe Theatre.
Seven things I cannot do:
--Cartwheels
--Sew
--Math
--Draw a straight line
--Crochet
--Calligraphy
--Write good poetry
--Count (teehee)
Seven things I can do:
--Parallel park
--Bake excellent bread
--Write bad poetry
--Play the piano
--Sing offkey (I can even sing on key, occasionally)
--Read super fast (e.g. I got the last Harry Potter book at midnight, and had finished reading it by about 4 a.m.)
--Speak in public
Seven things I say often:
--And, yeah.
--Does that make sense?
--Know what I mean?
--Mmmmmm . . . Chocolatey goodness
--Woohoo!
--Squee!
--Bored now.
Seven of my favorite writers:
--Geoffrey Chaucer
--William Shakespeare
--Dante
--Elizabeth Peters/Barbara Michaels/Barbara Mertz
--J.K. Rowling
--Jane Austen
--Terry Brooks
Seven of my favorite books:
--The Canterbury Tales
--The Divine Comedy
--Ammie Come Home
--Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
--Jane Eyre
--Pride and Prejudice
--Northanger Abbey
Seven of my favorite movies:
--Harry Potter (go ahead and count them all as one, or else this list would get boring)
--The Other Side of Heaven
--The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
--The Lord of the Rings (see Harry Potter, above, and also note that we're talking about the extended versions)
--Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion
--Serenity
--Heavenly Creatures
Seven things I was going to be when I grew up:
--A mother (nope)
--An archaeologist (nope)
--An anthropologist (nope)
--A psychiatrist (nope)
--A teacher (that one still may happen)
--A writer (yep)
--A dancer (well, if you count in my bedroom by myself, yep)
Seven of my favorite poems:
--"The Suicide" by Edna St. Vincent Millay
--"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot
--"Pied Beauty" by Gerard Manley Hopkins
-- "The Chariot" by Emily Dickinson
-- "Phenomenal Woman" by Maya Angelou
-- "Dream Variations" by Langston Hughes
--"Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti
Seven of my favorite plays:
--"The Great God Brown" by Eugene O'Neill
--"Long Day's Journey Into Night" ditto
--"Sylvia" by A.R. Gurney
--"M. Butterfly" by Henry David Hwang
--"The Women" by Clare Booth Luce
--"The Tempest" by William Shakespeare
--"Wit" by Margaret Edson
--Go to Egypt
--Write a best-seller
--Go see every play on Broadway
--Go on my self-created American Literature tour
--Make a positive difference in the world
--Go to the Louvre and spend as much time as it takes to see everything!
--See a Shakespeare play in the Globe Theatre.
Seven things I cannot do:
--Cartwheels
--Sew
--Math
--Draw a straight line
--Crochet
--Calligraphy
--Write good poetry
--Count (teehee)
Seven things I can do:
--Parallel park
--Bake excellent bread
--Write bad poetry
--Play the piano
--Sing offkey (I can even sing on key, occasionally)
--Read super fast (e.g. I got the last Harry Potter book at midnight, and had finished reading it by about 4 a.m.)
--Speak in public
Seven things I say often:
--And, yeah.
--Does that make sense?
--Know what I mean?
--Mmmmmm . . . Chocolatey goodness
--Woohoo!
--Squee!
--Bored now.
Seven of my favorite writers:
--Geoffrey Chaucer
--William Shakespeare
--Dante
--Elizabeth Peters/Barbara Michaels/Barbara Mertz
--J.K. Rowling
--Jane Austen
--Terry Brooks
Seven of my favorite books:
--The Canterbury Tales
--The Divine Comedy
--Ammie Come Home
--Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
--Jane Eyre
--Pride and Prejudice
--Northanger Abbey
Seven of my favorite movies:
--Harry Potter (go ahead and count them all as one, or else this list would get boring)
--The Other Side of Heaven
--The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
--The Lord of the Rings (see Harry Potter, above, and also note that we're talking about the extended versions)
--Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion
--Serenity
--Heavenly Creatures
Seven things I was going to be when I grew up:
--A mother (nope)
--An archaeologist (nope)
--An anthropologist (nope)
--A psychiatrist (nope)
--A teacher (that one still may happen)
--A writer (yep)
--A dancer (well, if you count in my bedroom by myself, yep)
Seven of my favorite poems:
--"The Suicide" by Edna St. Vincent Millay
--"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot
--"Pied Beauty" by Gerard Manley Hopkins
-- "The Chariot" by Emily Dickinson
-- "Phenomenal Woman" by Maya Angelou
-- "Dream Variations" by Langston Hughes
--"Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti
Seven of my favorite plays:
--"The Great God Brown" by Eugene O'Neill
--"Long Day's Journey Into Night" ditto
--"Sylvia" by A.R. Gurney
--"M. Butterfly" by Henry David Hwang
--"The Women" by Clare Booth Luce
--"The Tempest" by William Shakespeare
--"Wit" by Margaret Edson
100 Things About Me, Part One
I always say that I steal a good idea when I see it. I noticed Trista's list, and thought it was a cool idea. So here goes:
1. My very first memory involves me and a childhood friend standing at the side of a large, deep hole in the ground. I used to think it was a dream until I saw a photograph of the two of us standing by a large, deep hole in the ground. I have no idea what the holes were there for, or why we were standing there, but there you have it!
2. Once I mixed up a batch of mud-water in an old milk jug, and told my brother it was chocolate milk. He drank it, and got sick (of course). I was too young to understand about germs, so I didn't realize that the bacteria in the dirty old milk jug was what made him sick. I insisted then, and still insist, that the first swallow was my fault. If he was too dumb to realize that it wasn't chocolate milk after one swig, then he deserved to be sick.
3. Along similar lines, I gave my husband a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans one day. He didn't suspect anything, because I am a fiend for Jelly Bellies. The look on his face as he asked me what the hell he was eating was classic.
4. I'm sorry for that now, though, because on Christmas Day I ate a soap-flavoured Bertie Bott bean, and was sick for two hours.
5. As a kid, I was an incredible liar. I lied all the time, even when there was no need to. The truth was too boring.
6. Maybe that's why I started writing, so that I could tell the lies on paper and tell the truth in person.
7. Didn't work, though. I still tell lies every now and then, just for the sheer fun of it.
8. When my sister Elizabeth was a baby, she had platinum blonde hair. I used to love brushing it, and would sit there and brush her hair until she got bored and wanted to do something else.
9. When I was 11 or 12, I had some friends who dared me to shoplift some lip gloss. I did.
10. I also shoplifted cigarettes. I thought it was cool to smoke. The only reason I'm not a smoker to this day is because someone told me that it wasn't enough to just pull in some smoke and then puff it back out. She told me that I had to pull in some smoke, take a deep breath, and then puff it back out. I did so one time, puked violently, and was nauseated for two days. I never smoked again.
11. During the brief interval that I was a smoker, I was afraid to light matches. So I used to light my cigarettes on the burner of our gas stove. One day when I turned on the burner, it took slightly longer to ignite, there was a puff and I burned off my eyelashes.
12. After that I switched to a lighter. My brother found it and set my carpet on fire. I got grounded for a month.
13. I'm glad all that stuff happened; otherwise, I'd smell like an ashtray and have lung cancer.
14. The thing I regret the most: when I was in 9th grade, I went through an extremely brief spurt of popularity with at my small school. I wasn't popular with the cool kids, but I was popular with everyone else. I let it go to my head, and someone asked me what I thought of a certain girl. I didn't even know her, but airily replied that she was a bitch. Her boyfriend, who had been a friend of mine, never talked to me again. I wish I could go back to that moment, and unsay those words. I wish I could tell her now how sorry I am that I did that.
15. When I was 10 or 11, my parents bought a chest freezer stocked with all kinds of food. My favorite snack at the time was to take a can of orange juice concentrate and eat a spoonful of the frozen concentrate.
16. My other favorite snack was boiled peanuts. If you've never had boiled peanuts, oh my gosh, you are so missing out!!! My mother sealed them in plastic bags and stored them in the freezer. I would come home from school, boil a pot of water, and put the freezer bag in until the peanuts were steamy.
17. I moved to Minnesota on a whim when I was 18. I hated it.
18. When I moved back to Texas from Minnesota, I stopped my car on the side of the road as soon as I crossed the border back into Texas. I got out of the car and did a little dance, vowing never to leave Texas again.
19. I lied. I did leave Texas. I lived in Salt Lake City and Anaheim.
20. It's a good thing I did live in Salt Lake City, since that's where I met my husband Joe.
21. When I first saw Joe, I thought he was the biggest geek in the world.
22. He is.
23. But I love him anyway.
24. I've watched every Harry Potter movie so many times that I can recite along with the dialogue.
25. I have now seen Goblet of Fire six times, and am planning to go again this weekend. I *really* wish it would hurry up and come out on DVD.
26. I have read each Harry Potter book over and over and over.
27. I can make an argument for Severus Snape being on the side of the good guys.
28. Using the same points for the previous argument, I can make an argument for Severus Snape being on the side of the bad guys. J.K. Rowling is a brilliant writer. I wish she'd hurry up and write book 7, so I can read it!!
29. When I was 11, I read Gone With the Wind and thought it was the best book ever.
30. I hate Gone With the Wind.
31. I took some Metabolife this morning, and I have got such a buzz on! Wow!
32. My all-time favorite word is borborygmus. It means the rumbly noise in your gut when you're digesting food or have gas. I found it one day when I was reading the dictionary for fun.
33. I read the dictionary for fun.
34. Every morning when I get up, I sit at my computer and read my personal e-mail and talk myself out of going to work.
35. Every morning at the last possible minute, I get ready and go to work.
36. I don't like talking on the phone. I prefer talking in person or writing letters or e-mails.
37. Every now and then, my mother's voice comes out of my mouth. It's always a freaky thing.
38. I sing a song to my dog every morning. "Good morning, good morning. You slept the whole night through. Good morning, good morning, to you. Good morning, good morning. It's great to see your face. Good morning, good morning. I love you. Boop-boop-a-doo." And we snuggle and kiss each other while I sing it to her.
39. All of my dogs get the same middle name: Stinkbutt.
40. Mine and Joe's first dog was named Stanislaus Stinkbutt Stencel.
41. The dog we have now is named Molly Stinkbutt Stencel.
42. I also call Molly Sugarlips, Sugarbooger, Mollypop, and Mollypopsicle Girl.
43. I call Joe Sugarbooger and Sugarlips too.
44. I am deathly afraid of roaches. And we have an older house and get those huge monster ginormous cockroaches from hell. Whenever I see one, I scream, and make Joe kill it. He wants to know why I don't just kill it myself, and I tell him that killing cockroaches is the man's job.
45. My all-time favorite meal is cheese enchiladas, rice, and refried beans.
46. My all-time favorite home-cooked meal is porcupine meatballs, Joe's mashed potatoes, spinach salad, and lazy daisy cake.
47. I can curl my tongue.
48. I can whistle, but only with the "pucker up your lips and blow" technique. I don't know how to do those loud piercing shrill whistles that are so cool.
49. I can burp on demand, but they're usually pretty lame little burps.
50. The last time Liz and I went to the movies, I forced a burp right after the cute little polar bear cub slugs down some Coke. She laughed. I wish I could burp louder, so that everyone in the theatre could have heard me. Yeah, I'm pretty crass sometimes.
1. My very first memory involves me and a childhood friend standing at the side of a large, deep hole in the ground. I used to think it was a dream until I saw a photograph of the two of us standing by a large, deep hole in the ground. I have no idea what the holes were there for, or why we were standing there, but there you have it!
2. Once I mixed up a batch of mud-water in an old milk jug, and told my brother it was chocolate milk. He drank it, and got sick (of course). I was too young to understand about germs, so I didn't realize that the bacteria in the dirty old milk jug was what made him sick. I insisted then, and still insist, that the first swallow was my fault. If he was too dumb to realize that it wasn't chocolate milk after one swig, then he deserved to be sick.
3. Along similar lines, I gave my husband a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans one day. He didn't suspect anything, because I am a fiend for Jelly Bellies. The look on his face as he asked me what the hell he was eating was classic.
4. I'm sorry for that now, though, because on Christmas Day I ate a soap-flavoured Bertie Bott bean, and was sick for two hours.
5. As a kid, I was an incredible liar. I lied all the time, even when there was no need to. The truth was too boring.
6. Maybe that's why I started writing, so that I could tell the lies on paper and tell the truth in person.
7. Didn't work, though. I still tell lies every now and then, just for the sheer fun of it.
8. When my sister Elizabeth was a baby, she had platinum blonde hair. I used to love brushing it, and would sit there and brush her hair until she got bored and wanted to do something else.
9. When I was 11 or 12, I had some friends who dared me to shoplift some lip gloss. I did.
10. I also shoplifted cigarettes. I thought it was cool to smoke. The only reason I'm not a smoker to this day is because someone told me that it wasn't enough to just pull in some smoke and then puff it back out. She told me that I had to pull in some smoke, take a deep breath, and then puff it back out. I did so one time, puked violently, and was nauseated for two days. I never smoked again.
11. During the brief interval that I was a smoker, I was afraid to light matches. So I used to light my cigarettes on the burner of our gas stove. One day when I turned on the burner, it took slightly longer to ignite, there was a puff and I burned off my eyelashes.
12. After that I switched to a lighter. My brother found it and set my carpet on fire. I got grounded for a month.
13. I'm glad all that stuff happened; otherwise, I'd smell like an ashtray and have lung cancer.
14. The thing I regret the most: when I was in 9th grade, I went through an extremely brief spurt of popularity with at my small school. I wasn't popular with the cool kids, but I was popular with everyone else. I let it go to my head, and someone asked me what I thought of a certain girl. I didn't even know her, but airily replied that she was a bitch. Her boyfriend, who had been a friend of mine, never talked to me again. I wish I could go back to that moment, and unsay those words. I wish I could tell her now how sorry I am that I did that.
15. When I was 10 or 11, my parents bought a chest freezer stocked with all kinds of food. My favorite snack at the time was to take a can of orange juice concentrate and eat a spoonful of the frozen concentrate.
16. My other favorite snack was boiled peanuts. If you've never had boiled peanuts, oh my gosh, you are so missing out!!! My mother sealed them in plastic bags and stored them in the freezer. I would come home from school, boil a pot of water, and put the freezer bag in until the peanuts were steamy.
17. I moved to Minnesota on a whim when I was 18. I hated it.
18. When I moved back to Texas from Minnesota, I stopped my car on the side of the road as soon as I crossed the border back into Texas. I got out of the car and did a little dance, vowing never to leave Texas again.
19. I lied. I did leave Texas. I lived in Salt Lake City and Anaheim.
20. It's a good thing I did live in Salt Lake City, since that's where I met my husband Joe.
21. When I first saw Joe, I thought he was the biggest geek in the world.
22. He is.
23. But I love him anyway.
24. I've watched every Harry Potter movie so many times that I can recite along with the dialogue.
25. I have now seen Goblet of Fire six times, and am planning to go again this weekend. I *really* wish it would hurry up and come out on DVD.
26. I have read each Harry Potter book over and over and over.
27. I can make an argument for Severus Snape being on the side of the good guys.
28. Using the same points for the previous argument, I can make an argument for Severus Snape being on the side of the bad guys. J.K. Rowling is a brilliant writer. I wish she'd hurry up and write book 7, so I can read it!!
29. When I was 11, I read Gone With the Wind and thought it was the best book ever.
30. I hate Gone With the Wind.
31. I took some Metabolife this morning, and I have got such a buzz on! Wow!
32. My all-time favorite word is borborygmus. It means the rumbly noise in your gut when you're digesting food or have gas. I found it one day when I was reading the dictionary for fun.
33. I read the dictionary for fun.
34. Every morning when I get up, I sit at my computer and read my personal e-mail and talk myself out of going to work.
35. Every morning at the last possible minute, I get ready and go to work.
36. I don't like talking on the phone. I prefer talking in person or writing letters or e-mails.
37. Every now and then, my mother's voice comes out of my mouth. It's always a freaky thing.
38. I sing a song to my dog every morning. "Good morning, good morning. You slept the whole night through. Good morning, good morning, to you. Good morning, good morning. It's great to see your face. Good morning, good morning. I love you. Boop-boop-a-doo." And we snuggle and kiss each other while I sing it to her.
39. All of my dogs get the same middle name: Stinkbutt.
40. Mine and Joe's first dog was named Stanislaus Stinkbutt Stencel.
41. The dog we have now is named Molly Stinkbutt Stencel.
42. I also call Molly Sugarlips, Sugarbooger, Mollypop, and Mollypopsicle Girl.
43. I call Joe Sugarbooger and Sugarlips too.
44. I am deathly afraid of roaches. And we have an older house and get those huge monster ginormous cockroaches from hell. Whenever I see one, I scream, and make Joe kill it. He wants to know why I don't just kill it myself, and I tell him that killing cockroaches is the man's job.
45. My all-time favorite meal is cheese enchiladas, rice, and refried beans.
46. My all-time favorite home-cooked meal is porcupine meatballs, Joe's mashed potatoes, spinach salad, and lazy daisy cake.
47. I can curl my tongue.
48. I can whistle, but only with the "pucker up your lips and blow" technique. I don't know how to do those loud piercing shrill whistles that are so cool.
49. I can burp on demand, but they're usually pretty lame little burps.
50. The last time Liz and I went to the movies, I forced a burp right after the cute little polar bear cub slugs down some Coke. She laughed. I wish I could burp louder, so that everyone in the theatre could have heard me. Yeah, I'm pretty crass sometimes.
Creation
I spent a good bit of time last night pondering my motivations in blogging. Do I honestly think there's anyone out there who is really reading this? Who really cares about what I have to say? No, not particularly. Am I leaving this for the benefit of my posterity? Well, since I have no posterity, the answer to that would have to be another big fat no.
I do benefit from this myself, in that I can express my thoughts and feelings on a topic and then let it go as I move on to the next thing that's on my mind.
I think, though, that there is a desire to create that is inherent in each person. There are as many different ways to create as there are different people. Denied the opportunity to be a co-creator with God, by bringing children to this earth, the best way I can find for myself to be a creator is to write. And write I do.
I have created characters who are more alive in my mind than some people I've met on this earth. I can tell you what they had for breakfast, who they went to their high school prom with, who their 3rd grade teacher was. If I'm walking through a store or looking through a catalog, I can tell you what clothes they would or would not wear.
When I was a little girl, I was firmly convinced that Anne of Green Gables was alive, and that I would get to meet her someday. When I was still in the infertility maze, I was surprised to find myself bitterly jealous of Deanna Patterson, a character in my favorite comic strip, as she easily got pregnant not long after she got married.
I care passionately about people. I think that's one of the reasons that I failed as a child welfare worker. I did not know how to put that passion aside and do the job without letting it affect every aspect of my life. I wanted to inspire that drug mother to quit cooking meth, and live up to the potential within her. I wanted to believe the liars. I couldn't understand how people could put trivialities, like cigarettes, beer, and drugs, ahead of their children. None of it made sense to me. Every child I interviewed loved his or her parents desperately, no matter how bad the abuse was. It was gut-wrenching on every level. I got to where I woke up every night between 1 and 1:30, thinking about my families, and couldn't get back to sleep until 3:30 or 4 a.m. It tormented me to realize that I couldn't give them anything. All I had the power to do was to assess whether or not abuse was taking place, and--with the permission of two supervisors--remove children from their homes when it was absolutely necessary for their safety. But even then I couldn't always do that; there is one child in particular who still haunts me, and I could not get permission to remove her despite her desperate need to be out of that home.
So I left the world of child welfare behind me, and am taking a breather in an extremely tedious, boring secretarial job, before starting teacher certification training this summer (assuming, of course, that I manage to get a job in the May job fair).
In the meantime, I write, and write, and write, and write. I put words into people's mouths. I tell lies to make truths apparent. I create worlds. Someday people will read what I've written, and perhaps someday the characters who are so real to me will be real to others, at which point I truly will be a creator.
I do benefit from this myself, in that I can express my thoughts and feelings on a topic and then let it go as I move on to the next thing that's on my mind.
I think, though, that there is a desire to create that is inherent in each person. There are as many different ways to create as there are different people. Denied the opportunity to be a co-creator with God, by bringing children to this earth, the best way I can find for myself to be a creator is to write. And write I do.
I have created characters who are more alive in my mind than some people I've met on this earth. I can tell you what they had for breakfast, who they went to their high school prom with, who their 3rd grade teacher was. If I'm walking through a store or looking through a catalog, I can tell you what clothes they would or would not wear.
When I was a little girl, I was firmly convinced that Anne of Green Gables was alive, and that I would get to meet her someday. When I was still in the infertility maze, I was surprised to find myself bitterly jealous of Deanna Patterson, a character in my favorite comic strip, as she easily got pregnant not long after she got married.
I care passionately about people. I think that's one of the reasons that I failed as a child welfare worker. I did not know how to put that passion aside and do the job without letting it affect every aspect of my life. I wanted to inspire that drug mother to quit cooking meth, and live up to the potential within her. I wanted to believe the liars. I couldn't understand how people could put trivialities, like cigarettes, beer, and drugs, ahead of their children. None of it made sense to me. Every child I interviewed loved his or her parents desperately, no matter how bad the abuse was. It was gut-wrenching on every level. I got to where I woke up every night between 1 and 1:30, thinking about my families, and couldn't get back to sleep until 3:30 or 4 a.m. It tormented me to realize that I couldn't give them anything. All I had the power to do was to assess whether or not abuse was taking place, and--with the permission of two supervisors--remove children from their homes when it was absolutely necessary for their safety. But even then I couldn't always do that; there is one child in particular who still haunts me, and I could not get permission to remove her despite her desperate need to be out of that home.
So I left the world of child welfare behind me, and am taking a breather in an extremely tedious, boring secretarial job, before starting teacher certification training this summer (assuming, of course, that I manage to get a job in the May job fair).
In the meantime, I write, and write, and write, and write. I put words into people's mouths. I tell lies to make truths apparent. I create worlds. Someday people will read what I've written, and perhaps someday the characters who are so real to me will be real to others, at which point I truly will be a creator.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Something About Faith
I stole this from Trista's blog when I found it in her archives today.
2 names you go by:
Faith (my new self-given name. Well, newish, anyway--since early 2001)
Ginny (by those who can't seem to call me by my new self-given name or who, like my in-laws, don't know about my new self-given name because they already think I'm weird enough)
2 parts of your heritage:
French
English
2 things that scare you:
Bugs--anything creepy crawly. I know it's silly, but there it is.
The thought of never achieving anything worthwhile
2 things you are wearing right now:
black granny boots
purple dip-dyed cowl-neck sweater
2 of your favorite bands or musical artists (at the moment):
Jason Mraz
The Weird Sisters.
2 favorite songs (at the moment):
The Geek in the Pink (Jason Mraz)
Do the Hippogriff (The Weird Sisters)
2 things you want in a relationship (other than real love):
Freedom to grow
Fidelity
2 truths:
I have anxiety attacks and depression
I talk in my sleep, and have been known to sing in my sleep
2 physical things that appeal to you (in someone else):
eyes
smile
2 of your favorite hobbies:
writing
reading
2 things you want really badly:
to publish my books
to see every play on Broadway
2 places you want to go on vacation:
Egypt
Greece
2 things you want to do before you die:
Publish
See the movie that was made of the book my sister and I are writing now.
2 ways that you are stereotypically a dude/chick:
I'm a clothes horse
When I've got a case of the blues, nothing cheers me up more than a trashy magazine and a new lipstick. Oh, yeah, and chocolate.
2 things you are thinking about now:
I'm glad I found that cute reed hamper at Ross. It's just what I needed to put under the Dali print in the hall. And it was a great price, too.
I wish I didn't have to be at work today.
2 stores you shop at:
World Market (better than Pier One Imports)
Whole Foods Market
That was fun to think about. I'm stealing something else from Trista tomorrow, but that will just have to wait until tomorrow!
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Christmas
Christmas was absolutely wonderful this year.
I was worried about finances, as a combination of much lower income and a payment withdrawn in error by a creditor, who then refused to take responsibility, put my account in the negative. But I felt prompted to take a withdrawal from a retirement account to pay for my teacher certification classes and my expenses for the month I can't be working. The money came just in the nick of time, and I was able to buy a few Christmas gifts, as well as clear up my overdraft, buy a new computer monitor, pay off a few debts, and still have plenty of money to put in the savings account for my educational and financial needs this summer.
We had an absolutely lovely evening Friday night with our friends, Pat and Clover, and their kids, Alannah, Kyle, Chase, Sam, and Tate. As we left the house to head their direction, Joe said that he'd always wanted to buy someone a ham. So off we went to Kroger, to buy them a ham (along with a few other Christmas delectables), before going over to the house. Being the English literature geek that I am, I always buy the kids books for Christmas. I always sweeten the blow, though, by including a $5 bill with the books. This year they were commenting on how I could give them a lot more money if I ever get rich. I laughed, and promised that instead I'd give them a lot more books, and still only $5.
Getting to watch their kids grow up has been such a treat. Kyle, the oldest son, is just at that age where he's not quite interesting, but getting there, but also not young enough to go off and leave his mother and me alone to talk. Instead he joined in, being just as obnoxious as he possibly could. It was fun. And Alannah, who was 2 or 3 when I first met her, is now a very lovely 14-year-old. Tate ate cupcake after cupcake after cupcake, smearing his face with lurid hues of green and red. I joined him in the eating, turning my tongue a lurid hue of green.
It was just a lovely, pleasant evening.
I spent Saturday finishing up some shopping, before going home and taking things easy for the rest of the evening. I hung up Molly's clear plastic toy-stuffed stocking early Saturday afternoon, and she spent the rest of the day keeping vigil over her toys. As Joe and I watched "It's a Wonderful Life," I remembered how my parents used to allow us to open just one gift each Christmas Eve. Being the wise parents they were, and knowing that things too easily obtained aren't always appreciated, they used to pretend like they weren't going to let us open a gift on Christmas Eve, with hours of begging on our parts ensuing. I have no children to whom to pass on that tradition, but I do have an adorable dog. So I let her pull a toy out of her stocking, and was she elated! She squeaked it for a few minutes before chewing a hole in the end and gleefully pulling the stuffing out.
On Sunday morning, Liz came over for the ritual looting of the stockings and gift opening. We had cinnamon rolls and warm apple cider for breakfast. Joe, despite my request that he not buy me any chocolate until Valentine's Day, got me vast quantities of chocolates, along with two kinds of perfume. He also (the angel) got me a bunch of office supplies, as he insists he is taking away any excuses I have to not write. Liz and I got Joe the DVD of the Firefly series, the DVD of the movie Serenity, and a tee-shirt proclaiming, "Joss Whedon is my Master Now." He was most happy with the gift, and has already worn the shirt twice.
We spent Sunday afternoon at my father's and stepmother's house for dinner. We always have a pleasant time with them, and this was no exception.
I'm not sure what happened between Sunday night and Monday morning, but I woke up raring to go. I went out and bought some plastic storage boxes, trash bags, a new bedside stand for the Egypt room, and then came home and got to work. I decided to box up all of the books except those that are needed for my writing/research, school, and sanity. We ended up taking two truckloads of books and furniture and assorted other items to our storage unit. The Egypt room is completely clean now, and needs only to have the wallpaper border put up (Joe promised to do it this week) and the mirrors and wall art hung as they arrive at the house. I worked so hard that I ended up the day with muscle spasms in my back and a lot of pain in my knees.
Over the rest of the week, I'll be working on accomplishing the same goals in my home office. I'm going to move my computer from the Egypt room into my office, and have all my books that aren't going into storage (except the Egyptology books) in the office. I want to paint the office a nice warm red, and move the armchair from the living room into the office. That will give me a nice comfy place to read when I need to do some research or want a break from the writing.
I moved the Dali print that was in the office into the hall, and just need to get a small stand to go underneath, and the hall will look beautiful.
So life is progressing apace. It is so wonderful getting the clutter out of the house. I've been telling Joe for years that our problem is that we have too much stuff for such a small space. That's why it's been virtually impossible to keep it clean. I'm glad that he's been so cooperative and helpful now, as I'm determined to get the clutter out and get our house clean!!!
I was worried about finances, as a combination of much lower income and a payment withdrawn in error by a creditor, who then refused to take responsibility, put my account in the negative. But I felt prompted to take a withdrawal from a retirement account to pay for my teacher certification classes and my expenses for the month I can't be working. The money came just in the nick of time, and I was able to buy a few Christmas gifts, as well as clear up my overdraft, buy a new computer monitor, pay off a few debts, and still have plenty of money to put in the savings account for my educational and financial needs this summer.
We had an absolutely lovely evening Friday night with our friends, Pat and Clover, and their kids, Alannah, Kyle, Chase, Sam, and Tate. As we left the house to head their direction, Joe said that he'd always wanted to buy someone a ham. So off we went to Kroger, to buy them a ham (along with a few other Christmas delectables), before going over to the house. Being the English literature geek that I am, I always buy the kids books for Christmas. I always sweeten the blow, though, by including a $5 bill with the books. This year they were commenting on how I could give them a lot more money if I ever get rich. I laughed, and promised that instead I'd give them a lot more books, and still only $5.
Getting to watch their kids grow up has been such a treat. Kyle, the oldest son, is just at that age where he's not quite interesting, but getting there, but also not young enough to go off and leave his mother and me alone to talk. Instead he joined in, being just as obnoxious as he possibly could. It was fun. And Alannah, who was 2 or 3 when I first met her, is now a very lovely 14-year-old. Tate ate cupcake after cupcake after cupcake, smearing his face with lurid hues of green and red. I joined him in the eating, turning my tongue a lurid hue of green.
It was just a lovely, pleasant evening.
I spent Saturday finishing up some shopping, before going home and taking things easy for the rest of the evening. I hung up Molly's clear plastic toy-stuffed stocking early Saturday afternoon, and she spent the rest of the day keeping vigil over her toys. As Joe and I watched "It's a Wonderful Life," I remembered how my parents used to allow us to open just one gift each Christmas Eve. Being the wise parents they were, and knowing that things too easily obtained aren't always appreciated, they used to pretend like they weren't going to let us open a gift on Christmas Eve, with hours of begging on our parts ensuing. I have no children to whom to pass on that tradition, but I do have an adorable dog. So I let her pull a toy out of her stocking, and was she elated! She squeaked it for a few minutes before chewing a hole in the end and gleefully pulling the stuffing out.
On Sunday morning, Liz came over for the ritual looting of the stockings and gift opening. We had cinnamon rolls and warm apple cider for breakfast. Joe, despite my request that he not buy me any chocolate until Valentine's Day, got me vast quantities of chocolates, along with two kinds of perfume. He also (the angel) got me a bunch of office supplies, as he insists he is taking away any excuses I have to not write. Liz and I got Joe the DVD of the Firefly series, the DVD of the movie Serenity, and a tee-shirt proclaiming, "Joss Whedon is my Master Now." He was most happy with the gift, and has already worn the shirt twice.
We spent Sunday afternoon at my father's and stepmother's house for dinner. We always have a pleasant time with them, and this was no exception.
I'm not sure what happened between Sunday night and Monday morning, but I woke up raring to go. I went out and bought some plastic storage boxes, trash bags, a new bedside stand for the Egypt room, and then came home and got to work. I decided to box up all of the books except those that are needed for my writing/research, school, and sanity. We ended up taking two truckloads of books and furniture and assorted other items to our storage unit. The Egypt room is completely clean now, and needs only to have the wallpaper border put up (Joe promised to do it this week) and the mirrors and wall art hung as they arrive at the house. I worked so hard that I ended up the day with muscle spasms in my back and a lot of pain in my knees.
Over the rest of the week, I'll be working on accomplishing the same goals in my home office. I'm going to move my computer from the Egypt room into my office, and have all my books that aren't going into storage (except the Egyptology books) in the office. I want to paint the office a nice warm red, and move the armchair from the living room into the office. That will give me a nice comfy place to read when I need to do some research or want a break from the writing.
I moved the Dali print that was in the office into the hall, and just need to get a small stand to go underneath, and the hall will look beautiful.
So life is progressing apace. It is so wonderful getting the clutter out of the house. I've been telling Joe for years that our problem is that we have too much stuff for such a small space. That's why it's been virtually impossible to keep it clean. I'm glad that he's been so cooperative and helpful now, as I'm determined to get the clutter out and get our house clean!!!
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Hard Roads
"Do not ask God the way to heaven; He will show you the hardest one." --Stanislaw J. Lec
"For, behold, I have refined thee, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction." 1 Nephi 20:10
I'm not sure why I'm this way, but I'm one of those people who has to learn everything the hard way. You can't tell me the fire is hot and have me believe you; I have to stick my finger into the flame and learn it for myself. And I'm hard-headed, so some lessons take learning over and over and over again before I finally get it.
It gets discouraging sometimes when, at 42, I find myself making the same mistakes and bad decisions I've made for 20 years. When will it finally penetrate my mind, and when will I finally learn to take the lesson to heart?
There is so much on my mind this morning that this post may be a little muddled. But bear with me, because I really need to say these things today.
Judgment
I hate feeling like I'm constantly being judged by others. I love the movie "A Knight's Tale," and every time the vile Count Adamar says, "You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting," I want to smack the smug smile off his face. How dare he count any human being of no accord? Each person is created in the image of deity, and each of us has the seed of divinity within.
I know too many people who have given up on me and my husband. They have judged us, and they have done so in error. They have attributed hardness of heart and anger to what is in fact achingly tender hearts and acute pain. We were betrayed by people who were responsible for helping care for us. Those wounds cut deep, and will take a lot of time to heal.
Personal Revelation
Each person has the responsibility to find his/her own answers in life. What is right for one person is completely wrong for another.
My sorrow and pain over my inability to become a mother in this lifetime are very real. If my husband and I have chosen not to adopt, there is not one person on this earth who has the right to judge us for that. If we say that we have prayed and pondered whether we should adopt, and our answers were a very clear "No," that should suffice for anyone. To the people who accuse me of lying or being mistaken, shame on you! There have been two issues in my life where the answers to my prayers were so sharp and clear that I can still quote them, word for word, years and years later. If you are spoken to so clearly and distinctly by Heavenly Father, trust me--you will not mistake it and you will not forget it. Furthermore, if you are wise, you will accept it.
I do not know why Heavenly Father has chosen that we will not become parents in this life. I hate it. When Joe and I did in-vitro fertilization, only to lose the twins within a few short weeks, I wanted to die. I didn't understand why I would have been prepared for years that I would have twins, only to lose them before they even came to earth. I didn't understand why Joe and I would both have the same revelation about our son's name, only to never be able to hold him in our arms.
What I do understand, though, is that this is a burden I must bear. I have tried to help other families who are carrying the same burden. Many of them get different answers than I did. Many of them do, in fact, get to give birth or adopt. I can truly say that I'm not jealous of them. I'm so grateful that they get to have that marvelous blessing. Mother Teresa said once that God would not give her anything she could not handle, and she only wished that He didn't trust her so much. Well, that's pretty much how I feel.
A Plea
Don't ever look at someone's exterior and judge that person solely on his appearance. We've all heard the old canard about not judging a book by its cover. Someone may go to church every Sunday and have the hardest, bitterest heart imaginable. Someone may not go to church, and may be soft-hearted and tender and loving, but be in almost unbearable pain.
Each person on this earth is shaped by so many factors that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to account for them all. We're shaped by genetics and by our upbringing. We're shaped by the events that unfold around us. We're shaped by actions we take and actions we fail to take. We're shaped by what we do and by what is done to us.
I have been sexually molested. I have been raped. I am an alcoholic, who has been sober for more than 20 years. I have an eating disorder. I have severe depression and some anxiety problems. I am infertile. I have attention-deficit disorder, and didn't know it until I was 41 years old.
I care passionately about other people. I don't care what their sexual orientation is--that's their business, not mine. I don't care what religion someone else practices. I just want to love people. I want to look into each person's eyes and see who that person was meant to be, and do all I can to help her achieve it. I want to be accepted, and I want to accept others.
Being the big Harry Potter freak that I am, I'm reminded of the sorting hat's insistence that the 4 houses at Hogwarts need to unite. It is time for Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin to find the common bonds between them and unite, rather than holding themselves aloof because of their differences. Well, that's what I want for mankind. I want us to quit looking at our differences as excuses to hold ourselves aloof, and instead find the factors that unite us and bind us together, and celebrate life, celebrate God, and celebrate each other.
"For, behold, I have refined thee, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction." 1 Nephi 20:10
I'm not sure why I'm this way, but I'm one of those people who has to learn everything the hard way. You can't tell me the fire is hot and have me believe you; I have to stick my finger into the flame and learn it for myself. And I'm hard-headed, so some lessons take learning over and over and over again before I finally get it.
It gets discouraging sometimes when, at 42, I find myself making the same mistakes and bad decisions I've made for 20 years. When will it finally penetrate my mind, and when will I finally learn to take the lesson to heart?
There is so much on my mind this morning that this post may be a little muddled. But bear with me, because I really need to say these things today.
Judgment
I hate feeling like I'm constantly being judged by others. I love the movie "A Knight's Tale," and every time the vile Count Adamar says, "You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting," I want to smack the smug smile off his face. How dare he count any human being of no accord? Each person is created in the image of deity, and each of us has the seed of divinity within.
I know too many people who have given up on me and my husband. They have judged us, and they have done so in error. They have attributed hardness of heart and anger to what is in fact achingly tender hearts and acute pain. We were betrayed by people who were responsible for helping care for us. Those wounds cut deep, and will take a lot of time to heal.
Personal Revelation
Each person has the responsibility to find his/her own answers in life. What is right for one person is completely wrong for another.
My sorrow and pain over my inability to become a mother in this lifetime are very real. If my husband and I have chosen not to adopt, there is not one person on this earth who has the right to judge us for that. If we say that we have prayed and pondered whether we should adopt, and our answers were a very clear "No," that should suffice for anyone. To the people who accuse me of lying or being mistaken, shame on you! There have been two issues in my life where the answers to my prayers were so sharp and clear that I can still quote them, word for word, years and years later. If you are spoken to so clearly and distinctly by Heavenly Father, trust me--you will not mistake it and you will not forget it. Furthermore, if you are wise, you will accept it.
I do not know why Heavenly Father has chosen that we will not become parents in this life. I hate it. When Joe and I did in-vitro fertilization, only to lose the twins within a few short weeks, I wanted to die. I didn't understand why I would have been prepared for years that I would have twins, only to lose them before they even came to earth. I didn't understand why Joe and I would both have the same revelation about our son's name, only to never be able to hold him in our arms.
What I do understand, though, is that this is a burden I must bear. I have tried to help other families who are carrying the same burden. Many of them get different answers than I did. Many of them do, in fact, get to give birth or adopt. I can truly say that I'm not jealous of them. I'm so grateful that they get to have that marvelous blessing. Mother Teresa said once that God would not give her anything she could not handle, and she only wished that He didn't trust her so much. Well, that's pretty much how I feel.
A Plea
Don't ever look at someone's exterior and judge that person solely on his appearance. We've all heard the old canard about not judging a book by its cover. Someone may go to church every Sunday and have the hardest, bitterest heart imaginable. Someone may not go to church, and may be soft-hearted and tender and loving, but be in almost unbearable pain.
Each person on this earth is shaped by so many factors that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to account for them all. We're shaped by genetics and by our upbringing. We're shaped by the events that unfold around us. We're shaped by actions we take and actions we fail to take. We're shaped by what we do and by what is done to us.
I have been sexually molested. I have been raped. I am an alcoholic, who has been sober for more than 20 years. I have an eating disorder. I have severe depression and some anxiety problems. I am infertile. I have attention-deficit disorder, and didn't know it until I was 41 years old.
I care passionately about other people. I don't care what their sexual orientation is--that's their business, not mine. I don't care what religion someone else practices. I just want to love people. I want to look into each person's eyes and see who that person was meant to be, and do all I can to help her achieve it. I want to be accepted, and I want to accept others.
Being the big Harry Potter freak that I am, I'm reminded of the sorting hat's insistence that the 4 houses at Hogwarts need to unite. It is time for Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin to find the common bonds between them and unite, rather than holding themselves aloof because of their differences. Well, that's what I want for mankind. I want us to quit looking at our differences as excuses to hold ourselves aloof, and instead find the factors that unite us and bind us together, and celebrate life, celebrate God, and celebrate each other.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Personality Test
I love taking personality tests, perhaps because I want to understand myself better. Anyway, I took a few today. It's fun to see where I think the results are right on the money and where they are miles from accurate. If anyone reading this wants to post their opinions, I'd love to see them!
The last one is the funniest! lol
Update: If the links don't work, you can take the tests yourself at www.blogthings.com
Have fun!!
| Your Personality Profile |
 You believe that you live a virtuous life...And you tend to judge others with a harsh eye.As a result, people tend to crave your approval. |
The World's Shortest Personality Test
| Your Personality Is |
You are a passionate, caring, and unique person.You are good at expressing yourself and sharing your ideals. You are the most compassionate of all types and connect with others easily.Your heart tends to rule you. You can't make decisions without considering feelings. You seek out other empathetic people to befriend.Truth and authenticity matters in your friendships. In love, you give everything you have to relationships. You fall in love easily. At work, you crave personal expression and meaning in your career. With others, you communicate well. You can spend all night talking with someone. As far as your looks go, you've likely taken the time to develop your own personal style. On weekends, you like to be with others. Charity work is also a favorite pastime of yours. |
The Three Question Personality Test
| You Should Learn French |
 |
What Language Should You Learn?
| You Were Nice This Year! |
 |
Were You Naughty or Nice This Year?
The last one is the funniest! lol
Update: If the links don't work, you can take the tests yourself at www.blogthings.com
Have fun!!
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Christmas Gift Suggestions
"Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect" (Oren Arnold).
"Let me give forgiveness to my enemies"--who are they? There are some people towards whom I have unkind thoughts and find forgiveness difficult, people who have hurt me so deeply that I wonder if the wounds will ever fully heal. I haven't forgiven them yet, but I want to. Does that count for something? Is it a start, at least, to want to forgive someone? How does one make the leap from a desire to forgive to actually forgiving?
"To an opponent, tolerance." Tolerance and love to the opponent, yes, but not necessarily tolerance of the opponent's actions. This is something where I believe that my experience in the social services field has helped me. I have learned to separate a person's actions and behaviors from the intrinsic worth of that person. The people who needed my love and compassion the most were the ones to whom it was sometimes hardest to give it, the ones who did not want it, or the ones who felt they did not deserve it. I learned to be clear and direct with people, to let them know that I loved and cared for them, but their actions were unacceptable.
"To a friend, your heart." Well, that's easy. My friends do have my heart. Do they have my heart in more than words and thoughts? Do they know I love them? Do I put the thoughts and feelings into actions? I think so, although there's always room for improvement.
"To a customer, service." Do I deliver? No, not always. Not even most of the time. At work, for example, I'm temping as a clerk, and the work is extremely easy and painfully tedious. I work fast and accurately, and they're impressed. I'm aware, though, that I could do better. I know the times that I slack off in an attempt to stretch out a small amount of work through the day. At home, I don't deliver the service to my family that is needed. I get home tired and don't make the effort to get things cleaned up. Yes, I have much to work on in this area.
"To all, charity." I'm finding this quite a painful exercise. I think that I have charity in my heart, but I do not exercise or show charity nearly as often as I could. I don't like to talk about ways that I serve others, because I like to keep it a secret. I will just say that I could do more than I have chosen to do.
"To every child, a good example." Yes, and no. I love children, and they seem to sense it. I have a gift for reaching children, and it is a gift that I enjoy immeasurably. But when I let myself stay home from church on Sunday because I don't want to face someone who has hurt me, I'm not showing a good example. I'm hoping to start teaching within the next 8 or 9 months, and have started trying to lose weight in part so that I can show a good example for my students.
"To yourself, respect." Do I respect myself? Well, when I look at my shortcomings and see how many ways I fall short of my ideals, the answer has to be no. Do I respect myself as a child of heavenly parents? I believe I do.
As I've gone through these thoughts and explored my attitudes and beliefs, it seems to me that all of this can be boiled down into one word: integrity. Are my attitudes and beliefs in harmony with my actions? If they are not, then I have much work to do. That doesn't mean that I have to punish myself or hate myself (see the preceding paragraph), but it does mean that I have to either accept mediocrity or strive for excellence. I'd rather keep reaching higher and higher, than settle for something less.
So here's to reaching!
"Let me give forgiveness to my enemies"--who are they? There are some people towards whom I have unkind thoughts and find forgiveness difficult, people who have hurt me so deeply that I wonder if the wounds will ever fully heal. I haven't forgiven them yet, but I want to. Does that count for something? Is it a start, at least, to want to forgive someone? How does one make the leap from a desire to forgive to actually forgiving?
"To an opponent, tolerance." Tolerance and love to the opponent, yes, but not necessarily tolerance of the opponent's actions. This is something where I believe that my experience in the social services field has helped me. I have learned to separate a person's actions and behaviors from the intrinsic worth of that person. The people who needed my love and compassion the most were the ones to whom it was sometimes hardest to give it, the ones who did not want it, or the ones who felt they did not deserve it. I learned to be clear and direct with people, to let them know that I loved and cared for them, but their actions were unacceptable.
"To a friend, your heart." Well, that's easy. My friends do have my heart. Do they have my heart in more than words and thoughts? Do they know I love them? Do I put the thoughts and feelings into actions? I think so, although there's always room for improvement.
"To a customer, service." Do I deliver? No, not always. Not even most of the time. At work, for example, I'm temping as a clerk, and the work is extremely easy and painfully tedious. I work fast and accurately, and they're impressed. I'm aware, though, that I could do better. I know the times that I slack off in an attempt to stretch out a small amount of work through the day. At home, I don't deliver the service to my family that is needed. I get home tired and don't make the effort to get things cleaned up. Yes, I have much to work on in this area.
"To all, charity." I'm finding this quite a painful exercise. I think that I have charity in my heart, but I do not exercise or show charity nearly as often as I could. I don't like to talk about ways that I serve others, because I like to keep it a secret. I will just say that I could do more than I have chosen to do.
"To every child, a good example." Yes, and no. I love children, and they seem to sense it. I have a gift for reaching children, and it is a gift that I enjoy immeasurably. But when I let myself stay home from church on Sunday because I don't want to face someone who has hurt me, I'm not showing a good example. I'm hoping to start teaching within the next 8 or 9 months, and have started trying to lose weight in part so that I can show a good example for my students.
"To yourself, respect." Do I respect myself? Well, when I look at my shortcomings and see how many ways I fall short of my ideals, the answer has to be no. Do I respect myself as a child of heavenly parents? I believe I do.
As I've gone through these thoughts and explored my attitudes and beliefs, it seems to me that all of this can be boiled down into one word: integrity. Are my attitudes and beliefs in harmony with my actions? If they are not, then I have much work to do. That doesn't mean that I have to punish myself or hate myself (see the preceding paragraph), but it does mean that I have to either accept mediocrity or strive for excellence. I'd rather keep reaching higher and higher, than settle for something less.
So here's to reaching!
Monday, December 19, 2005
Thought for the day
Something I plan to do when I'm teaching is start each morning/class period with a brief writing exercise. I'll have a quotation on the board, and will have the students do some free-writing based on that quotation.
And how better to get it started than to do it myself? I'm tired of writing about how hungry I was last week, or how discouraging it is to be fat. It's tedious. It's non-inspiring. I'd rather reach higher.
So here's today's thought: "Seize the moment of excited curiosity on any subject to solve your doubts; for if you let it pass, the desire may never return, and you may remain in ignorance" (William Wirt).
From time to time, I've felt a little embarrassed about how I can get on a jag where I'm single-mindedly focused on something. I'll go to the library and check out 30 books on the subject, and learn everything I can. And as soon as that passes, I've found another thing to go learn everything about.
But I decided not to be embarrassed about it any more. It's silly. There's nothing wrong with being excited about things, and there's nothing wrong in having brief, intense spurts of curiosity on a particular subject. Sometimes those brief, intense spurts turn into a lifelong love of that subject. And as a writer, no knowledge that I gain is ever wasted. Heck--as a human, no knowledge that I gain is ever wasted.
When I look back at some of my past passions, I'm greeted by the Beatles, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Geoffrey Chaucer, amongst many others.
When I turned 15, my Uncle Lee sent me a boombox and cassette tapes of all his Beatles albums. It was the first time I'd ever listened to the Beatles, and I listened to almost nothing else for the next two years. It may not have stimulated in me any great desire to study music more than I already did, but I still listen to and enjoy their music.
I don't quite remember when my passion for Fitzgerald started. I think it was when I was in 11th grade, attending Richland Senior High School. I was always the misfit of misfits when in school, not fitting in anywhere, even with the other misfits. So I spent a lot of time alone. It's likely that my literature anthology in school that year included a short story by Fitzgerald, perhaps "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz," or "Bernice Bobs Her Hair." Whatever the story or novel that piqued my curiosity, it sparked a 5-year love affair with F. Scott Fitzgerald. I read every scrap of his writing; read about his turbulent marriage to Zelda; read Zelda's book; read biographies and collected letters; pored over photographs; and wished madly that I could have been one of Fitzgerald's icily beautiful heroines. I even acquired a pair of 2-foot-high statues that I christened Scott and Zelda, and carried them with me from Texas to Minnesota, back to Texas, and then to Utah, where I gave them to a roommate when we broke up housekeeping. By then I was no longer enamoured of Fitzgerald, and she really loved the statues. I do still read his short stories every now and then, but I find his novels a little tedious and much too precocious to be truly enjoyable.
I know exactly when my passion for Chaucer started. I had read and reread Bel Kaufman's delightful book "Up the Down Staircase" since I was 11 or 12, and was very impressed by her Chaucer-loving heroine. That alone didn't impel me to read Chaucer. However, when I was in 12th grade in Plano Senior High School, I took an Advanced Placement English class. We got to read "The Miller's Tale," the tale above all others that rowdy, rambunctious high schoolers would love. As an adult some years later, I wonder how my teacher got away with teaching that story, because it was bawdy and vulgar. As a teenager, though, and one who thought nothing was funnier than a good fart story, I fell in love with Chaucer instantly. I read the other tales, and studied them in college, and have begun writing a continuation of the Tales. I think that love for Chaucer that was engendered in me then is one passion that will last, even if I don't always have as much time as I would like to devote to it. It reminds me that a few years ago I wrote Ms. Kaufman and thanked her for telling such a great story that piqued my interest in both teaching and in Chaucer. She wrote a lovely letter in return, and I have put it in with my most treasured possessions.
So I do agree with Wirt. Whenever a spark is lit, take advantage of it. For every Beatles, Fitzgerald, and Chaucer whim that I took up, how many did I leave behind? And how much richer would my life be had I followed more of those whims?
And how better to get it started than to do it myself? I'm tired of writing about how hungry I was last week, or how discouraging it is to be fat. It's tedious. It's non-inspiring. I'd rather reach higher.
So here's today's thought: "Seize the moment of excited curiosity on any subject to solve your doubts; for if you let it pass, the desire may never return, and you may remain in ignorance" (William Wirt).
From time to time, I've felt a little embarrassed about how I can get on a jag where I'm single-mindedly focused on something. I'll go to the library and check out 30 books on the subject, and learn everything I can. And as soon as that passes, I've found another thing to go learn everything about.
But I decided not to be embarrassed about it any more. It's silly. There's nothing wrong with being excited about things, and there's nothing wrong in having brief, intense spurts of curiosity on a particular subject. Sometimes those brief, intense spurts turn into a lifelong love of that subject. And as a writer, no knowledge that I gain is ever wasted. Heck--as a human, no knowledge that I gain is ever wasted.
When I look back at some of my past passions, I'm greeted by the Beatles, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Geoffrey Chaucer, amongst many others.
When I turned 15, my Uncle Lee sent me a boombox and cassette tapes of all his Beatles albums. It was the first time I'd ever listened to the Beatles, and I listened to almost nothing else for the next two years. It may not have stimulated in me any great desire to study music more than I already did, but I still listen to and enjoy their music.
I don't quite remember when my passion for Fitzgerald started. I think it was when I was in 11th grade, attending Richland Senior High School. I was always the misfit of misfits when in school, not fitting in anywhere, even with the other misfits. So I spent a lot of time alone. It's likely that my literature anthology in school that year included a short story by Fitzgerald, perhaps "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz," or "Bernice Bobs Her Hair." Whatever the story or novel that piqued my curiosity, it sparked a 5-year love affair with F. Scott Fitzgerald. I read every scrap of his writing; read about his turbulent marriage to Zelda; read Zelda's book; read biographies and collected letters; pored over photographs; and wished madly that I could have been one of Fitzgerald's icily beautiful heroines. I even acquired a pair of 2-foot-high statues that I christened Scott and Zelda, and carried them with me from Texas to Minnesota, back to Texas, and then to Utah, where I gave them to a roommate when we broke up housekeeping. By then I was no longer enamoured of Fitzgerald, and she really loved the statues. I do still read his short stories every now and then, but I find his novels a little tedious and much too precocious to be truly enjoyable.
I know exactly when my passion for Chaucer started. I had read and reread Bel Kaufman's delightful book "Up the Down Staircase" since I was 11 or 12, and was very impressed by her Chaucer-loving heroine. That alone didn't impel me to read Chaucer. However, when I was in 12th grade in Plano Senior High School, I took an Advanced Placement English class. We got to read "The Miller's Tale," the tale above all others that rowdy, rambunctious high schoolers would love. As an adult some years later, I wonder how my teacher got away with teaching that story, because it was bawdy and vulgar. As a teenager, though, and one who thought nothing was funnier than a good fart story, I fell in love with Chaucer instantly. I read the other tales, and studied them in college, and have begun writing a continuation of the Tales. I think that love for Chaucer that was engendered in me then is one passion that will last, even if I don't always have as much time as I would like to devote to it. It reminds me that a few years ago I wrote Ms. Kaufman and thanked her for telling such a great story that piqued my interest in both teaching and in Chaucer. She wrote a lovely letter in return, and I have put it in with my most treasured possessions.
So I do agree with Wirt. Whenever a spark is lit, take advantage of it. For every Beatles, Fitzgerald, and Chaucer whim that I took up, how many did I leave behind? And how much richer would my life be had I followed more of those whims?
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Krista
This is off the topic of my weight loss, but is a topic that has been on my mind incessantly for the last few days.
Krista, a good friend of mine, is a savior. She started an e-mail group addressing infertility for LDS families. I found the group in the dark days after my IVF failed, and it literally saved me. Finally I had people who understood what I was going through in the most intimate ways. I met some amazing people through that e-group, some of whom I count among my dearest friends. It would be impossible to count up the number of people whose lives have been positively impacted by Krista.
She learned a few weeks ago that she had a brain tumor, and surgery was rapidly scheduled for December 12th, this past Monday. Her husband sent out an announcement to the group, and then posted in her blog as well, about her status. The tumor was malignant. On the positive side, the tumor was significantly smaller than most malignant tumors. On the negative side, Krista now has to undergo radiation and chemotherapy.
Krista and Jared have two children. They tried multiple IVF procedures, none of which were successful. She did get pregnant once, but miscarried. They were blessed to adopt a beautiful son, Jacob, who is now 4, and a beautiful daughter, Emma, who is still a baby.
I'm praying for the best possible outcome for Krista and her family. I don't know how I would have made it through the darkest times in my life without her support. I hope that my support, through prayers and letters, can provide a small measure of comfort to her in her dark time.
Krista, a good friend of mine, is a savior. She started an e-mail group addressing infertility for LDS families. I found the group in the dark days after my IVF failed, and it literally saved me. Finally I had people who understood what I was going through in the most intimate ways. I met some amazing people through that e-group, some of whom I count among my dearest friends. It would be impossible to count up the number of people whose lives have been positively impacted by Krista.
She learned a few weeks ago that she had a brain tumor, and surgery was rapidly scheduled for December 12th, this past Monday. Her husband sent out an announcement to the group, and then posted in her blog as well, about her status. The tumor was malignant. On the positive side, the tumor was significantly smaller than most malignant tumors. On the negative side, Krista now has to undergo radiation and chemotherapy.
Krista and Jared have two children. They tried multiple IVF procedures, none of which were successful. She did get pregnant once, but miscarried. They were blessed to adopt a beautiful son, Jacob, who is now 4, and a beautiful daughter, Emma, who is still a baby.
I'm praying for the best possible outcome for Krista and her family. I don't know how I would have made it through the darkest times in my life without her support. I hope that my support, through prayers and letters, can provide a small measure of comfort to her in her dark time.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Successful!
My post is titled "successful" because the word has 10 letters, each letter standing for one pound. Yes, I did it--I successfully achieved my 10-pound goal last week, with a half pound to spare!
I feel very strong and powerful right now. I want to remember how this feels so I can keep it with me during those times when I don't feel quite so strong or powerful. Gaining some self-control is a difficult, albeit gratifying, process. I like being able to conquer my weaker self.
However, this one-pound weight loss is the lowest I've had since I started 5 weeks ago. When I look at my food journal over the past week, I see that I used all of my flex points. I also see that I ate a big portion of birthday cake and 10 truffles that Joe gave me for my birthday. I also had a portion of a chocolate chip cookie with ice cream and hot fudge one day, part of mine and Liz's birthday celebrations. I won't have those specific temptations this week--the birthdays are over, so no more birthday cake. And I asked Joe not to give me any more chocolate until Valentine's Day, and he kindly agreed. So I don't have any more chocolate truffles. That takes care of the major temptations from last week, which should help this week significantly.
Challenges that lie ahead of me this week include the office Christmas luncheon on Wednesday. I'm not overly concerned about that, however; I know that I can have turkey breast for relatively few points. I also have low-points crackers and fruit at my desk. And I'm planning to make chicken soup for dinner on Wednesday night, which is low point. I think that between conserving points during the rest of the day and making wise choices at lunch, that day won't be a problem.
I think there's an office party on Saturday, and I'm not too worried about that either. I'll eat before I go, and just sip diet coke, which is filling, during the party.
Also on Saturday I need to do a little Christmas shopping, and Liz and I are planning to have lunch at Red Robin and go see Harry Potter for the fifth time for me (fourth time for her). We're going to split her free birthday hamburger, and I'm going to buy a big salad for us to share. That will be fairly high points; however, we don't buy popcorn at the movies anymore, and we'll be getting some exercise that day, so it should come out all right.
Those are the only potential danger zones I see this week. And now I've planned, and I'm ready--bring it on! I am not going to give up. I will persist and achieve my goals of a healthier mind and body.
I feel very strong and powerful right now. I want to remember how this feels so I can keep it with me during those times when I don't feel quite so strong or powerful. Gaining some self-control is a difficult, albeit gratifying, process. I like being able to conquer my weaker self.
However, this one-pound weight loss is the lowest I've had since I started 5 weeks ago. When I look at my food journal over the past week, I see that I used all of my flex points. I also see that I ate a big portion of birthday cake and 10 truffles that Joe gave me for my birthday. I also had a portion of a chocolate chip cookie with ice cream and hot fudge one day, part of mine and Liz's birthday celebrations. I won't have those specific temptations this week--the birthdays are over, so no more birthday cake. And I asked Joe not to give me any more chocolate until Valentine's Day, and he kindly agreed. So I don't have any more chocolate truffles. That takes care of the major temptations from last week, which should help this week significantly.
Challenges that lie ahead of me this week include the office Christmas luncheon on Wednesday. I'm not overly concerned about that, however; I know that I can have turkey breast for relatively few points. I also have low-points crackers and fruit at my desk. And I'm planning to make chicken soup for dinner on Wednesday night, which is low point. I think that between conserving points during the rest of the day and making wise choices at lunch, that day won't be a problem.
I think there's an office party on Saturday, and I'm not too worried about that either. I'll eat before I go, and just sip diet coke, which is filling, during the party.
Also on Saturday I need to do a little Christmas shopping, and Liz and I are planning to have lunch at Red Robin and go see Harry Potter for the fifth time for me (fourth time for her). We're going to split her free birthday hamburger, and I'm going to buy a big salad for us to share. That will be fairly high points; however, we don't buy popcorn at the movies anymore, and we'll be getting some exercise that day, so it should come out all right.
Those are the only potential danger zones I see this week. And now I've planned, and I'm ready--bring it on! I am not going to give up. I will persist and achieve my goals of a healthier mind and body.
Monday, December 12, 2005
It IS Possible---
---to go to a movie and not get popcorn and a soda! I went to the movies twice this weekend, seeing "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe" both times. The first time I didn't have anything to eat or drink, and it was just fine. The second time my sister and I split some movie nachos (yuck--really nasty) for 6 points each and shared a diet Coke. Guess which time I felt the best? Yep--the first.
I'm re-learning that popcorn doesn't agree with my system very well, which has made it easier to pass by the popcorn.
Weigh-in tonight, and I hope I've at least lost that half a pound that will get me to my first 10-pound goal!
I'm re-learning that popcorn doesn't agree with my system very well, which has made it easier to pass by the popcorn.
Weigh-in tonight, and I hope I've at least lost that half a pound that will get me to my first 10-pound goal!
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Birthdays and Parenthood
Today's my birthday. I got a very loving e-card from both parents today; my dad said that his life changed on this date 42 years ago, because that's when he became a father. And my mother said that she woke up in the hospital and asked to have Virginia brought to her, and was surprised that the nurse didn't know who Virginia was. She said that I'm getting better every day.
I'm so grateful for all of my parents (was about to say both, but have to remember the much-loved step-parents as well).
And as I was reflecting on that, it made me so sad to realize I don't get to be a parent, at least not in this life. I can't share that experience with anyone, and it makes me so sad. I believe that Tad and Ellie are waiting for me on the other side of the veil, as are, I hope, many other children. And I know logically that this life will pass in what seems like a moment. I can only say that at least while I'm going through it, it's passing very slowly.
I'm so grateful for all of my parents (was about to say both, but have to remember the much-loved step-parents as well).
And as I was reflecting on that, it made me so sad to realize I don't get to be a parent, at least not in this life. I can't share that experience with anyone, and it makes me so sad. I believe that Tad and Ellie are waiting for me on the other side of the veil, as are, I hope, many other children. And I know logically that this life will pass in what seems like a moment. I can only say that at least while I'm going through it, it's passing very slowly.
Struggling Along
I wonder why some days I feel so hungry--physically and/or emotionally--that I just want to eat everything in sight. Yesterday was tough; it was really cold, and with our heater not working at the house, it was really cold. Joe does a great job of keeping things warm, though, and it was bearable. Anyway, yesterday I ended up using about 10 flex points, and felt like I could have kept on going. And today I'm not physically hungry, but I'm emotionally hungry.
How do I feed the emotional hunger? That's more difficult for me to figure out than the physical hunger.
How do I feed the emotional hunger? That's more difficult for me to figure out than the physical hunger.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
My Fat List: The Bad and the Good
THE BAD (ABOUT GAINING WEIGHT/BEING FAT):
1. Try to imagine shaving your thighs when you have to shift your stomach out of the way. eeeuuuwww
2. Sitting down in a booth and having the table bisect your stomach.
3. Taking a nice lovely hot bath, and then standing up to get out and seeing that there is only an inch and a half of water in the tub. Let's just say that I displace a LOT of water!!
4. Sprinting and having everything not just jiggle, but bounce around. It's very jarring, and must look absolutely hilarious.
5. Boob shelf # 1 and Boob shelf #2. Boob shelf # 2 serves to support Boob shelf #1. And now that my boobs aren't so big, my boob shelves stick out further than my boobs.
6. Back fat. I hate that bulging-around-the-bra thing that I get. But if I wear a bra that fits the back fat, it doesn't fill in the cup properly.
THE GOOD (ABOUT LOSING WEIGHT):
1. I love it when my wrist watch starts sliding up and down my arm. Always a good sign. Similar is when my ring finger stops bulging out above and below my wedding rings.
2. I've got great legs, and it's nice to admire them without all the extra fat. It'll be great when my boots with extra-wide shafts actually fit. It'll be really great when I can buy a pair of boots at the shoe store without having to order them by catalog with extra-wide shafts.
3. I like when my back fat starts breaking up. I can really tell this is happening when Joe's massaging my back. It's a weird feeling, but nice.
4. My collar bone is no longer hidden beneath a layer of fat.
5. When I lie down, my stomach goes concave instead of convex! This hasn't happened for me yet, but I'm confident that it will.
6. Another thing I'm looking forward to is getting rid of the double (triple?) chin, and discovering that I actually have a neck.
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS RELATED TO MY APPEARANCE:
I can look into a mirror and know that I'm attractive. I think I have a well-defined sense of style. I know what looks good on me and reflects my personality. I think it will be easier to dress according to my style and personality when I'm no longer wearing "plus-size" clothing. The variety of options opens up immensely, and the cost goes down.
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS COMPLETELY OFF THE SUBJECT OF WEIGHT:
Joe's been told by his boss to start looking for another job immediately. He's on the layoff list, and we don't know when it's coming. His company has done this to him too many times to count, and always they've ended up finding a way to keep him on. I'm tired of the stress of always having an axe hanging over his head. One supervisor there, who has proven herself trustworthy, wants to get Joe transferred to her group. We don't know whether that will happen, and she's on vacation this week anyway. Fortunately, he has incredible skills and experience and shouldn't have a lot of difficulty finding a new job. I think my stress associated with all this is due to the fact that I'm still only working temps (no benefits) for less than 2/3's of what I made with CPS. And to do my teacher certification, I will be unable to work during the month of June because I will be in class all day. I'm on medication that requires quarterly doctor visits, as well as monthly prescriptions. So it's a scary situation. I know we'll come through it, but that doesn't always mean it'll be an easy thing, y'know?
1. Try to imagine shaving your thighs when you have to shift your stomach out of the way. eeeuuuwww
2. Sitting down in a booth and having the table bisect your stomach.
3. Taking a nice lovely hot bath, and then standing up to get out and seeing that there is only an inch and a half of water in the tub. Let's just say that I displace a LOT of water!!
4. Sprinting and having everything not just jiggle, but bounce around. It's very jarring, and must look absolutely hilarious.
5. Boob shelf # 1 and Boob shelf #2. Boob shelf # 2 serves to support Boob shelf #1. And now that my boobs aren't so big, my boob shelves stick out further than my boobs.
6. Back fat. I hate that bulging-around-the-bra thing that I get. But if I wear a bra that fits the back fat, it doesn't fill in the cup properly.
THE GOOD (ABOUT LOSING WEIGHT):
1. I love it when my wrist watch starts sliding up and down my arm. Always a good sign. Similar is when my ring finger stops bulging out above and below my wedding rings.
2. I've got great legs, and it's nice to admire them without all the extra fat. It'll be great when my boots with extra-wide shafts actually fit. It'll be really great when I can buy a pair of boots at the shoe store without having to order them by catalog with extra-wide shafts.
3. I like when my back fat starts breaking up. I can really tell this is happening when Joe's massaging my back. It's a weird feeling, but nice.
4. My collar bone is no longer hidden beneath a layer of fat.
5. When I lie down, my stomach goes concave instead of convex! This hasn't happened for me yet, but I'm confident that it will.
6. Another thing I'm looking forward to is getting rid of the double (triple?) chin, and discovering that I actually have a neck.
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS RELATED TO MY APPEARANCE:
I can look into a mirror and know that I'm attractive. I think I have a well-defined sense of style. I know what looks good on me and reflects my personality. I think it will be easier to dress according to my style and personality when I'm no longer wearing "plus-size" clothing. The variety of options opens up immensely, and the cost goes down.
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS COMPLETELY OFF THE SUBJECT OF WEIGHT:
Joe's been told by his boss to start looking for another job immediately. He's on the layoff list, and we don't know when it's coming. His company has done this to him too many times to count, and always they've ended up finding a way to keep him on. I'm tired of the stress of always having an axe hanging over his head. One supervisor there, who has proven herself trustworthy, wants to get Joe transferred to her group. We don't know whether that will happen, and she's on vacation this week anyway. Fortunately, he has incredible skills and experience and shouldn't have a lot of difficulty finding a new job. I think my stress associated with all this is due to the fact that I'm still only working temps (no benefits) for less than 2/3's of what I made with CPS. And to do my teacher certification, I will be unable to work during the month of June because I will be in class all day. I'm on medication that requires quarterly doctor visits, as well as monthly prescriptions. So it's a scary situation. I know we'll come through it, but that doesn't always mean it'll be an easy thing, y'know?
Another 3 pounds gone!
I was surprised at weigh-in last night to learn that I've lost another 3 pounds. I was not anticipating such a great loss, especially considering last Friday. However, as I think about it, it seems like the weeks that I have the highest losses are those in which I have eaten at a moderate or low level most days, and had one or two very high days. Maybe it just helps keep my metabolism jumping. I don't know, but it's worth investigating further.
I brought the traveling journal home with me this week. I did it during Thanksgiving week as well, and it did help me do better than I might have otherwise, considering that I knew that my leader and the other people who take the traveling journals home with them would read about my week.
I am so determined to succeed at this, and plan to do whatever will help me!!
I brought the traveling journal home with me this week. I did it during Thanksgiving week as well, and it did help me do better than I might have otherwise, considering that I knew that my leader and the other people who take the traveling journals home with them would read about my week.
I am so determined to succeed at this, and plan to do whatever will help me!!
Monday, December 05, 2005
Oops, I Did It Again!
Last Thursday I walked into a glass wall at the post office, and got a whale of a goose-egg on my left eyebrow.
Today, as I was getting off the elevator, I walked into another glass wall. This time I was headed straight ahead, so I took most of the blow on my nose. No, I didn't break my nose, although it hurts pretty badly.
So how is it that I can go almost 42 years without once walking into a glass wall, and then managing to do it twice within five days? It doesn't make any sense!
Today, as I was getting off the elevator, I walked into another glass wall. This time I was headed straight ahead, so I took most of the blow on my nose. No, I didn't break my nose, although it hurts pretty badly.
So how is it that I can go almost 42 years without once walking into a glass wall, and then managing to do it twice within five days? It doesn't make any sense!
Some Passing Thoughts on Passing Gas
Anyone who knows me well knows that I unfortunately find farting incredibly funny. I think that the main reason has to do with the fact that it is a great common factor amongst all human beings. No matter how elevated in status someone might be, that person farts. I think it also has to do with sitting in the backseat on long car trips as a child, and mentally comparing the output of my parents.
This makes the prospective of teaching a little unnerving for me. How will I manage to restrain the urge to cheer on some 5th-grade boy who lets out a loud one?
Anyway, the reason that this is on my mind this afternoon is because I eat the same thing for breakfast every morning--two packets of Kashi cereal--and for my morning snack--a cup of fruit--and for lunch--a sandwich with some lettuce on it. So why is it that some days I scarcely fart once, and other days, like today, I'm like a trumpet blatting incessantly? Even I'm embarrassed today, and I'm in my own office!! Of course, I do have people come in quite frequently, so the chances of being overheard are most excellent.
Ask not for whom the fart blats; it blats for thee!
This makes the prospective of teaching a little unnerving for me. How will I manage to restrain the urge to cheer on some 5th-grade boy who lets out a loud one?
Anyway, the reason that this is on my mind this afternoon is because I eat the same thing for breakfast every morning--two packets of Kashi cereal--and for my morning snack--a cup of fruit--and for lunch--a sandwich with some lettuce on it. So why is it that some days I scarcely fart once, and other days, like today, I'm like a trumpet blatting incessantly? Even I'm embarrassed today, and I'm in my own office!! Of course, I do have people come in quite frequently, so the chances of being overheard are most excellent.
Ask not for whom the fart blats; it blats for thee!
It's a new week
The end of last week didn't go so great; I did very poorly on Friday and, to a lesser extent, on Sunday. So I'm a little apprehensive about weighing in tonight. I have to keep reminding myself that it's about the journey, not the destination.
When I was at the doctor's office on Friday afternoon, he put me back on Effexor, an anti-depressant that I had tried briefly in September. At that time I noticed that it had an appetite suppressing effect. Would that it will do so again!
My sister Liz had a really rough week last week, and got very discouraged. She called me this morning to say that she gained only half a pound. I hope she's feeling more energized and ready to get back on her feet and keep going. Only half a pound gain, on a week when you feel like you've done so horribly that you didn't want to track your eating, is really great. Way to go, Liz!!
When I was at the doctor's office on Friday afternoon, he put me back on Effexor, an anti-depressant that I had tried briefly in September. At that time I noticed that it had an appetite suppressing effect. Would that it will do so again!
My sister Liz had a really rough week last week, and got very discouraged. She called me this morning to say that she gained only half a pound. I hope she's feeling more energized and ready to get back on her feet and keep going. Only half a pound gain, on a week when you feel like you've done so horribly that you didn't want to track your eating, is really great. Way to go, Liz!!
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Happy Saturday!
Here I am, the day after the binge, and I have to tell you that I am regretting the binge as much today as I did last night. I was sick all night and into the morning, and I know that it was because of what I ate yesterday. So lesson learned, and move on.
My sister Liz and I spent the morning at Grapevine Mills Mall. Neither of us is over-blessed with money right now, but our Monster hates shopping and gave us the money to get the angel tree gifts. It works out for all of us that way. Anyway, Grapevine Mills Mall is one mile around. Our tradition is to take a very brisk walk around the mall the first time, for higher intensity exercise. Then we meander around a second time to do any shopping. It felt great to get the exercise.
It also was pretty cool when I put on a pair of jeans that I just bought back in August. They are now so loose that I can take them off without bothering to unbutton and unzip them. I think they may have had their last wearing today. Fortunately, Liz bought a pair of jeans the same day, the same style, but a size smaller. They're now too big for her (woohoo!), so she's going to let me have them.
It feels fantastic to be in control of myself. I know I'm going to succeed in getting--and keeping--the weight off.
You know what else is cool? Last Thursday evening, I was bummed out and in pain because of my head injury, and I asked Joe to bring me a treat. He brought me a box of Dove cookies. I figured out the points, and they're one point per cookie. I still have more than half the box!!! I was also looking for something in my desk drawer on Thursday afternoon, and was surprised to find that I still have a bag full of Snickers left from Halloween!
My sister Liz and I spent the morning at Grapevine Mills Mall. Neither of us is over-blessed with money right now, but our Monster hates shopping and gave us the money to get the angel tree gifts. It works out for all of us that way. Anyway, Grapevine Mills Mall is one mile around. Our tradition is to take a very brisk walk around the mall the first time, for higher intensity exercise. Then we meander around a second time to do any shopping. It felt great to get the exercise.
It also was pretty cool when I put on a pair of jeans that I just bought back in August. They are now so loose that I can take them off without bothering to unbutton and unzip them. I think they may have had their last wearing today. Fortunately, Liz bought a pair of jeans the same day, the same style, but a size smaller. They're now too big for her (woohoo!), so she's going to let me have them.
It feels fantastic to be in control of myself. I know I'm going to succeed in getting--and keeping--the weight off.
You know what else is cool? Last Thursday evening, I was bummed out and in pain because of my head injury, and I asked Joe to bring me a treat. He brought me a box of Dove cookies. I figured out the points, and they're one point per cookie. I still have more than half the box!!! I was also looking for something in my desk drawer on Thursday afternoon, and was surprised to find that I still have a bag full of Snickers left from Halloween!
Friday, December 02, 2005
Binging
Well, I wasn't going to write this down. I wasn't going to track what I ate this evening. I was going to give myself "the night off." I wasn't going to make this blog entry. I was going to avoid dealing with what happened tonight. But I didn't. I put what I ate in my points tracker, and I'm making this blog entry, and facing it head-on.
I binged tonight. How do I feel right now? Bloated and extremely uncomfortable. Was it worth it? Not so much.
What led to the binge? I think my lack of preparation today that resulted in my eating a 24-point lunch kind of sent me over the edge.
What have I learned? Plan ahead. Plan ahead. Plan ahead.
And hey--I did track it, despite my desires to not face what I did. By facing it, I know exactly what kind of harm I did to myself, and I know that I can avoid this in the future.
Oh, and by the way, the doctor said my head looks fine. Well, it doesn't really look fine, as it's extremely swollen. I'm guessing that it's going to turn a beautiful shade of purplish-green once the swelling goes down some more, but it's mostly covered by my bangs. I just have to be careful.
I binged tonight. How do I feel right now? Bloated and extremely uncomfortable. Was it worth it? Not so much.
What led to the binge? I think my lack of preparation today that resulted in my eating a 24-point lunch kind of sent me over the edge.
What have I learned? Plan ahead. Plan ahead. Plan ahead.
And hey--I did track it, despite my desires to not face what I did. By facing it, I know exactly what kind of harm I did to myself, and I know that I can avoid this in the future.
Oh, and by the way, the doctor said my head looks fine. Well, it doesn't really look fine, as it's extremely swollen. I'm guessing that it's going to turn a beautiful shade of purplish-green once the swelling goes down some more, but it's mostly covered by my bangs. I just have to be careful.
Going to the Doctor
It's scary to realize how much something like running head first into a glass wall can affect your whole personality. Yesterday and today, ever since I hit my head, I've been getting incredibly angry incredibly easily. The stream of profanity that runs through my head, if not actually out my lips, is so appalling that I shock even myself. So I called the doctor's office, and they agreed that I need to get seen. So I'm going to the doctor at 4:15 to get X-rayed and make sure nothing's seriously wrong where I whacked my head.
On a different point, I had a cheap lunch today at Taco Bueno. When I got back and recorded the points for my Mexi-Dips and Chips, I almost choked to realize I'd just spent 24 points, leaving myself with 0 points for the rest of the day. Fortunately, I do still have 20.5 flex points, so I can eat dinner later tonight. But you know what? It tasted really good to me; at 3:40 p.m., 4 hours later, I am still comfortably full and have no desire to eat anything else any time soon. When I realized that it wasn't that long ago that I would eat a Mexi-Dips and Chips PLUS either a half or a whole quesadilla in addition, I felt pretty dang good! Being comfortably full for 4 hours on 24 points' worth of food definitely beats being uncomfortably stuffed on a lot more points. I also noticed, back when I was eating so much, that I would feel hungry again almost indecently soon after eating a large meal. I'm not experiencing that anymore, either, for which I am grateful.
So yes, progress is being made.
On a different point, I had a cheap lunch today at Taco Bueno. When I got back and recorded the points for my Mexi-Dips and Chips, I almost choked to realize I'd just spent 24 points, leaving myself with 0 points for the rest of the day. Fortunately, I do still have 20.5 flex points, so I can eat dinner later tonight. But you know what? It tasted really good to me; at 3:40 p.m., 4 hours later, I am still comfortably full and have no desire to eat anything else any time soon. When I realized that it wasn't that long ago that I would eat a Mexi-Dips and Chips PLUS either a half or a whole quesadilla in addition, I felt pretty dang good! Being comfortably full for 4 hours on 24 points' worth of food definitely beats being uncomfortably stuffed on a lot more points. I also noticed, back when I was eating so much, that I would feel hungry again almost indecently soon after eating a large meal. I'm not experiencing that anymore, either, for which I am grateful.
So yes, progress is being made.
What a Frustrating Day!
Yesterday morning on my way to work, I stopped by the post office hoping to pick up a form I needed to fix the mess they've made of my mail. I walked through the outer door and then proceeded to walk into a glass wall, banging my face hard! I reeled back, realized there was another door that led into the lobby, and staggered through it. To add insult to injury, the post office didn't have any forms in their lobby. Grateful that no one had been there to see my klutziness and aware that had someone sent a video to America's Funniest Videos, it probably would have won, I made my way to the car, in tears because of the pain.
It hurt all day and all night and, in fact, still hurts. Let's just say that if I didn't wear bangs, I'd need to wear a sign that says, "No, my husband doesn't beat me." In fact, he's just as sweet as he can be, most of the time.
I'm assuming that it's because of my injury, but most of my day seemed to go downhill from there, and that happened at 6:50 a.m. It was month-end, so I had a myriad of reports to do for the first time. That took longer than it will in the future because I had to completely rework the reports because the format they were in was virtually unreadable. My printer kept acting up, and I am embarrassed to admit that I cussed it out roundly, albeit silently. I had to repent for that, and I did, believe me. I was in tears much of the day from pain and frustration. Then last night I tried to call my mom in Utah, and was utterly dismayed to find out that Sprint, despite the hour I spent on the phone with them on 11/23 making payment arrangements, has suspended my service because I'm behind on the payment. I did keep my end of the payment arrangements, so I burst into tears when I found that out. I didn't talk with them last night; their call center is in India and I didn't feel up to repeating everything I said three times or asking the CSR to repeat everything s/he said three times. I did send an e-mail to Sprint explaining the situation. I hope they will rectify it.
As a result of everything I experienced and felt yesterday, I ate a little more than I've been in the habit of eating. Amazing how it's so easy to drift back to using food as comfort. I can't say that I was truly hungry each time I put something in my mouth. However, I still wrote everything down, and I still have plenty of flex points for the rest of my week.
Joe called me last night on his way home, and I asked him to bring me a treat. See? There's that comfort thing. So when he got home, he gave me a Subway sandwich. But I'd already eaten a sandwich for dinner, so I thanked him and said I'd take it for lunch today. (I didn't--he and the dog already ate it). He also brought a few slices of cheesecake, and I thanked him and said I might have a bite or two today. He brought some beautiful pink roses, and I thanked him and put them in a vase. And he brought me a box of Dove chocolates cookies. I ate one, savored every nibble of flavor, and put the rest away.
So I'm learning. It may be slow and gradual, but I'm beginning to understand that it's as important to enjoy the journey as it is to enjoy the destination. Perhaps that's why I've always failed before in my attempts to lose weight and keep it off, because I was racing hellbent for leather to get to the destination without taking the time and thought to enjoy the journey.
I also refuse to categorize any item of food as good or bad. People can behave well or badly, but an item of food is just that--food. And I'm not good or bad because of what I eat. My food choices aren't good or bad; they're wise or foolish, depending on what my goals are, how much I consume, etc.
Why should I let my enjoyment of life be ruled by whether I was "good" or "bad?" Eating a bite of cheesecake, if I choose to, doesn't make me bad. A bite of cheesecake, if nibbled very slowly, is delicious, rich tasting, and very satisfying. Eating a whole slice of cheesecake, while more points than I'd probably care to spend, isn't bad. Eating a whole cheesecake isn't bad, but it would be exceedingly foolish, should one even be able to do so!
So here I am today, and on the way to work I wanted to stop at McDonald's and get a sausage biscuit, or stop at Whataburger and get a breakfast-on-a-bun or stop at Sonic and get a breakfast burrito. I didn't. I came to work and ate my Kashi cereal and got going. I'm still in control!
It hurt all day and all night and, in fact, still hurts. Let's just say that if I didn't wear bangs, I'd need to wear a sign that says, "No, my husband doesn't beat me." In fact, he's just as sweet as he can be, most of the time.
I'm assuming that it's because of my injury, but most of my day seemed to go downhill from there, and that happened at 6:50 a.m. It was month-end, so I had a myriad of reports to do for the first time. That took longer than it will in the future because I had to completely rework the reports because the format they were in was virtually unreadable. My printer kept acting up, and I am embarrassed to admit that I cussed it out roundly, albeit silently. I had to repent for that, and I did, believe me. I was in tears much of the day from pain and frustration. Then last night I tried to call my mom in Utah, and was utterly dismayed to find out that Sprint, despite the hour I spent on the phone with them on 11/23 making payment arrangements, has suspended my service because I'm behind on the payment. I did keep my end of the payment arrangements, so I burst into tears when I found that out. I didn't talk with them last night; their call center is in India and I didn't feel up to repeating everything I said three times or asking the CSR to repeat everything s/he said three times. I did send an e-mail to Sprint explaining the situation. I hope they will rectify it.
As a result of everything I experienced and felt yesterday, I ate a little more than I've been in the habit of eating. Amazing how it's so easy to drift back to using food as comfort. I can't say that I was truly hungry each time I put something in my mouth. However, I still wrote everything down, and I still have plenty of flex points for the rest of my week.
Joe called me last night on his way home, and I asked him to bring me a treat. See? There's that comfort thing. So when he got home, he gave me a Subway sandwich. But I'd already eaten a sandwich for dinner, so I thanked him and said I'd take it for lunch today. (I didn't--he and the dog already ate it). He also brought a few slices of cheesecake, and I thanked him and said I might have a bite or two today. He brought some beautiful pink roses, and I thanked him and put them in a vase. And he brought me a box of Dove chocolates cookies. I ate one, savored every nibble of flavor, and put the rest away.
So I'm learning. It may be slow and gradual, but I'm beginning to understand that it's as important to enjoy the journey as it is to enjoy the destination. Perhaps that's why I've always failed before in my attempts to lose weight and keep it off, because I was racing hellbent for leather to get to the destination without taking the time and thought to enjoy the journey.
I also refuse to categorize any item of food as good or bad. People can behave well or badly, but an item of food is just that--food. And I'm not good or bad because of what I eat. My food choices aren't good or bad; they're wise or foolish, depending on what my goals are, how much I consume, etc.
Why should I let my enjoyment of life be ruled by whether I was "good" or "bad?" Eating a bite of cheesecake, if I choose to, doesn't make me bad. A bite of cheesecake, if nibbled very slowly, is delicious, rich tasting, and very satisfying. Eating a whole slice of cheesecake, while more points than I'd probably care to spend, isn't bad. Eating a whole cheesecake isn't bad, but it would be exceedingly foolish, should one even be able to do so!
So here I am today, and on the way to work I wanted to stop at McDonald's and get a sausage biscuit, or stop at Whataburger and get a breakfast-on-a-bun or stop at Sonic and get a breakfast burrito. I didn't. I came to work and ate my Kashi cereal and got going. I'm still in control!
Thursday, December 01, 2005
The good and bad about being fat
Let's face it--fat people, except those who have glandular disorders or other medical causes of their obesity, must get something out of it. Otherwise, they wouldn't be fat. I've been thinking a lot about this, wondering what I've gotten out of it. What were the benefits, for me, of being fat?
Well, first of all, it saved me from a lot of unwanted attention during a time in my life that I wanted to be freed from that type of attention. On the other hand, the men who did pay attention to me seemed to assume that because I was fat and lonely, I was easy. So that was a mixed bag.
I also got to eat good food. Let's face it--there's something very satisfying about good food. Of course, I was frequently sick at my stomach because of having eaten something too greasy or eaten too much quantity. And I wasn't really eating good food. It was more like--junk food. Fast food. I eat a much better quality of food right now, even if I'm not downing sacher tortes or chicken carbonara like there was no tomorrow.
It made me feel better. It did! When I was angry about something I couldn't control, I ate something yummy. When I was sad about something, I ate something yummy. When I felt great, and was having a good time, it was only natural to eat something yummy. Of course, when I saw how fat I kept getting, I didn't feel better. I felt worse. So I ate something yummy. Are we seeing a pattern here? And how's this one: Someone I cared about put me down because I was fat. So I said, I'll show him! And I went to get the greasiest nastiest meal I could stomach, because he called me fat. I showed him, I did. I showed him another 70 pounds! Okay, so why did I feel the need to get fatter because someone called me fat? Why couldn't I just blow off his opinion? Because I loved him. And it hurt. So, note to myself, figure out what to do when you're hurt, or angry, or sad, that doesn't involve making yourself more hurt, more angry, or more sad.
As I look at this, it becomes clear that the benefits of being fat weren't benefits at all. They added to my misery and unhappiness.
Top that with the very easily identifiable negatives of being fat.
The unwanted attention. A few events really stand out. One day I was crossing the street from the parking lot to the building I worked in. Some young cocky frat boys were speeding up the road. Instead of slowing down to allow me to finish crossing the street, they sped up and roared with laughter as I hastily jumped back. They hollered "Fat bitch" out their windows at me. I had been in a good mood until that moment. It hurt so much that their behavior was so rude. I wondered what made me a bitch in their eyes, other than the fact that I was fat. Sadly, I was much slimmer than I ultimately allowed myself to become. I think I wore around a size 18 or 20 at that time. Another time I was visiting in San Francisco with my then-fiance, his brother and brother's girlfriend, and his parents. We had stopped somewhere for lunch, and Joe offered to split a piece of cheesecake with me. I ate a few bites, and when I went to get a third or fourth bite, he laughingly took it away and told me I'd had enough. It would have been uncomfortable enough if it had just been the two of us; his doing that in front of his family humiliated me terribly. I left the table, went to the bathroom, cried, and tried to make myself vomit. Fortunately, I couldn't, so I had to just regain my composure and rejoin them and try to pretend that my feeling hadn't been hurt.
And clothes--trying to find attractive and affordable clothes in sizes ranging from a women's 18 up to a women's 24 is difficult. Fortunately, there are some designers who care about clothing all women, regardless of their size, specifically Elizabeth Claiborne and Tommy Hilfiger. They make beautiful clothing that is designed to make a woman look good, and for that I am truly grateful. I will buy from them for the rest of my life, regardless of what size I am, because they cared about me when I was fat. It also gets a little insulting when a store (Target is really bad about this) will have a nice large selection of junior and misses sized clothing, and shove the teeny plus size section off with the maternity section. I think it's insulting to both fat women and to pregnant women. Pregnant women aren't fat. And it gets even more frustrating when the teeny plus size section gets all shoved out of the way and crammed together so that all the clearance racks of "normal" sized clothing can get put in the plus size secton. It makes me feel like they think I'm a secondary citizen.
So after I sit down and look at the perceived good and bad about being fat, it turns out that, in my opinion, there's not much good about being fat. It makes me feel just a little better about passing up that little Christmas cake Joe left on the counter last night that I successfully avoided. People at my Weight Watchers meeting often quote that saying about how nothing tastes as good as being thin feels. I hate that saying, but I'm starting to suspect that it's right, and looking forward to finding out.
Well, first of all, it saved me from a lot of unwanted attention during a time in my life that I wanted to be freed from that type of attention. On the other hand, the men who did pay attention to me seemed to assume that because I was fat and lonely, I was easy. So that was a mixed bag.
I also got to eat good food. Let's face it--there's something very satisfying about good food. Of course, I was frequently sick at my stomach because of having eaten something too greasy or eaten too much quantity. And I wasn't really eating good food. It was more like--junk food. Fast food. I eat a much better quality of food right now, even if I'm not downing sacher tortes or chicken carbonara like there was no tomorrow.
It made me feel better. It did! When I was angry about something I couldn't control, I ate something yummy. When I was sad about something, I ate something yummy. When I felt great, and was having a good time, it was only natural to eat something yummy. Of course, when I saw how fat I kept getting, I didn't feel better. I felt worse. So I ate something yummy. Are we seeing a pattern here? And how's this one: Someone I cared about put me down because I was fat. So I said, I'll show him! And I went to get the greasiest nastiest meal I could stomach, because he called me fat. I showed him, I did. I showed him another 70 pounds! Okay, so why did I feel the need to get fatter because someone called me fat? Why couldn't I just blow off his opinion? Because I loved him. And it hurt. So, note to myself, figure out what to do when you're hurt, or angry, or sad, that doesn't involve making yourself more hurt, more angry, or more sad.
As I look at this, it becomes clear that the benefits of being fat weren't benefits at all. They added to my misery and unhappiness.
Top that with the very easily identifiable negatives of being fat.
The unwanted attention. A few events really stand out. One day I was crossing the street from the parking lot to the building I worked in. Some young cocky frat boys were speeding up the road. Instead of slowing down to allow me to finish crossing the street, they sped up and roared with laughter as I hastily jumped back. They hollered "Fat bitch" out their windows at me. I had been in a good mood until that moment. It hurt so much that their behavior was so rude. I wondered what made me a bitch in their eyes, other than the fact that I was fat. Sadly, I was much slimmer than I ultimately allowed myself to become. I think I wore around a size 18 or 20 at that time. Another time I was visiting in San Francisco with my then-fiance, his brother and brother's girlfriend, and his parents. We had stopped somewhere for lunch, and Joe offered to split a piece of cheesecake with me. I ate a few bites, and when I went to get a third or fourth bite, he laughingly took it away and told me I'd had enough. It would have been uncomfortable enough if it had just been the two of us; his doing that in front of his family humiliated me terribly. I left the table, went to the bathroom, cried, and tried to make myself vomit. Fortunately, I couldn't, so I had to just regain my composure and rejoin them and try to pretend that my feeling hadn't been hurt.
And clothes--trying to find attractive and affordable clothes in sizes ranging from a women's 18 up to a women's 24 is difficult. Fortunately, there are some designers who care about clothing all women, regardless of their size, specifically Elizabeth Claiborne and Tommy Hilfiger. They make beautiful clothing that is designed to make a woman look good, and for that I am truly grateful. I will buy from them for the rest of my life, regardless of what size I am, because they cared about me when I was fat. It also gets a little insulting when a store (Target is really bad about this) will have a nice large selection of junior and misses sized clothing, and shove the teeny plus size section off with the maternity section. I think it's insulting to both fat women and to pregnant women. Pregnant women aren't fat. And it gets even more frustrating when the teeny plus size section gets all shoved out of the way and crammed together so that all the clearance racks of "normal" sized clothing can get put in the plus size secton. It makes me feel like they think I'm a secondary citizen.
So after I sit down and look at the perceived good and bad about being fat, it turns out that, in my opinion, there's not much good about being fat. It makes me feel just a little better about passing up that little Christmas cake Joe left on the counter last night that I successfully avoided. People at my Weight Watchers meeting often quote that saying about how nothing tastes as good as being thin feels. I hate that saying, but I'm starting to suspect that it's right, and looking forward to finding out.
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