Monday, December 05, 2011
So, kids, it's December 5th. This means that the darkest day o' the year will happen in 16 days.
It also means that things will start to brighten up in 17 days.
It's all in the perspective, yanno?
I weighed in this morning at 211 and change.
Oh, my God! I'm 5'6"! I'm supposed to be 156! As in, 55 lbs. lighter.
Oh, my God! I used to be 346! As in, I am 135 lbs. lighter.
I will be 50 in less than 9 months.
Oh, my God! I'm getting old! I will never be bouncy again!
Oh, my God! I'm so much bouncier than I was when I turned 40!
This morning, I went into my less than optimal job.
Oh, my God! It stinks! I hate it! This is not what I wanna do for the rest of my life!
Oh, my God! I'm making money! People are nice! I'm making contacts!
My lower teeth are crooked. I've been going grey since I was 20 something. I can't sing. I don't go on awesome vacations.
My eyes are pretty nice. I do a good job coloring my hair. I can write. I stay home for vacations 'cause my house is almost paid for.
... And there you have it.
We can pick apart our own flaws, and the flaws of others, until the cows come home. We are all observant enough people. Surely we all see the flyaway hair, the slightly smeared makeup, the jiggly butt, the uneven fingernails. Or we can see the eyes that are like a window to the sky. And the smile that lights up a whole city block. And the proud stance. And the confident walk. And the wisdom in a look, or in words.
And we can see the essence from within, yes?
Can we see that in others?
I sure as hell hope we all can.
And can we turn that mirror inward, and see it in ourselves?
I sure as hell hope we all can.
Get out of that state you're in.
Slip into a better one.
Monday, November 28, 2011
I had a lovely Thanksgiving. And how 'bout yourself?
We did not go overboard, but one thing is clear - they don't sell small turkeys. I found the smallest one in the store, and it was still a good 12.7 pounds. This was for two people. Hence, we have many turkeyesque leftovers at home. But that's fine; it'll help to keep us going over the winter. There will be weeks when we want chicken soup - so we'll have turkey soup instead. It's all good.
The remainder was, as this holiday always is, painfully carb-centric. A yam (yes, just one, and sans seasoning, just nuked), mashed taters (also sans seasoning; I took very little of these as we have them every week so they are not a once a year treat), homemade cranberries (just an ounce or so of boiled berries with sugar, which is a necessity because otherwise I'd be puckering until 2057; the remainder were frozen), mixed veg, salad, smoothies, homemade stuffing (just cubed bread, chestnuts, sage, onion powder and it was tossed into the turkey pan drippings - probably the fattiest item on the menu. Maybe three ounces of this), and stuffed mushrooms (hollowed-out portabellos, the insides chopped with oyster mushrooms and mixed with a breading mix, then baked, no other seasoning. The breading mix was a bit salty. Again, around three ounces or so).
Aside from the turkey, we also have leftover stuffing (we'll freeze the remainder tonight). Everything else is gone.
Plus we walked/jogged every day of the long weekend, for over an hour each time, and I got writing done even though I did less cleaning/decrapifying than I had originally planned. I also winterized my closet and had good calls with the family.
All in all, I consider it to be a success.
Oh, and I gained 1.4 pounds.
Now, there are folks who would have totally led with that little tidbit. And it is well within their rights, of course.
But yanno something?
It is freakin' Thanksgiving.
As in, it comes but once a year (or at least it should). And, as you can see, we did not go overboard (notice there are no desserts? That's right; we didn't make any) and we worked out every day. 1.4 pounds is easily within the ping-ponging that I have now been doing for a couple of years.
I am past beating myself up over every blip on the scale. I would get upset if the holiday had been pie-centric. Or if the portions had been seconded and thirded in an endless stream of carbs and fat and salt. Or if we were planning on doing it all again tomorrow.
But it wasn't, and we're not.
Now, keep in mind that we do not celebrate Christmas. And Chanukah is not, aside from latkes, a huge foodie holiday. It is certainly not the feast that Christmas is.
So - guess what?
Life is grand. Most things went well. A few were less than ideal. But the world continues to spin and I am feeling pretty damned awesome about the whole weekend.
Except for the fact that I'm back at work today .... :)
Monday, November 21, 2011
Well, sure ya do. So don't worry about that.
Anyway, here we are, Day 3 billion or so, on this journey.
I took a look at my weight for the past few months or so, and I have ping-ponged around. Truly, it ain't so bad when it comes to maintenance. I would like for it to be better but it is definitely within ranges. I know that I do the tracking, etc. I suspect that my exercise estimations are high and my food estimations are low. And that is the crux of it so there ya go.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, don't settle, etc. yes I know the drill, I have heard the drill, I have said the drill, I have recited the mantra. I do not need information.
I don't even need bun-kickage, so far as I can tell.
Right now, it's mainly me settling into a routine/the dark/knowing that things are going to be less than optimal for about another year.
I am truly, madly, deeply bored with work.
I know I have said this.
And yeah, I was out of work for nearly 2 years so I should be hopping on the Grateful Train. And it's not like, totally, I am off that train.
I like the fact that I have something focusing my days. I like that the commute is good, the people are lovely and my bank account and mortgage are doing what they are supposed to -- growing and shrinking in inverse proportions to each other. I like the fact that it is downtown and I see Mr. J and often friends from former work stints and we walk. That is all fab and a half.
It's the actual work part, folks.
Here's what I do.
I run database reports.
That is, a report is brought up on my screen, I check a few things (usually date parameters), I log in and I hit "process". In the meantime, I prepare the cover email (which is a template, but it needs to have the correct date put on it) and open the report template and change the date on it as well.
Once the report has run, I copy the results and paste them into the report template and sometimes into a part of the email or the like. I check things like margins and whether the graphs are working nicely and are pulling all of the data.
I step back, admire my work like the Reporting Goddess that I am, convert the report to PDF form, save it in the trillion and one places where it is supposed to be saved and then send out the email.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Over and over and over again.
You may be saying to yourself - where's the creativity in this?
There is none.
Where are the margins for error?
There are plenty. I have messed up dates, formatting and even corrupted a query once. I have forgotten attachments, too. About the only thing I have gotten right, on a truly consistent basis, is the distribution lists, and that's 'cause these are email templates so you can kinda set and forget 'em. Oh and I do things on the correct days because these are set in my calendar.
This is not through lack of competency.
It is through lack of interest.
The reports are going to be, at least partly, automated. This is because so much of this is at a stage that a trained seal could do it. I will not lose my gig when the reports are automated, for there will be other dull as dishwater reports to do by then. The ennui will abide.
I know, I know, I know!
YOU'RE BEING RIDICULOUS!
PEOPLE ARE OUTTA WORK AND WOULD LOVE TO TRADE PLACES WITH YOU!
Think I don't tell myself those things?
I hear that Greek Chorus from Hell every day these days.
It is settling that kinda, in a lotta ways, got me into this. Settling got me into my weight mess as well.
Not settling is going to get me out of both.
But in the meantime, I am on a contract, and I am here for another 12 months, possibly more if the newer software isn't installed on time. So I need to learn to live with it, and accept it and, if not love it, at least stop resisting it so damned much.
I need to redirect that resistence and that fury and that desire into doing for myself.
Monday, November 14, 2011
WOLFKITTY (if you don't know her, or don't follow her, I suggest you do. She's fantastic) recently blogged about someone making kind of an odd comment about her weight loss. WK and I have lost almost the same amount although we are both bouncing around a little bit within our own ranges these days. I think we've been doing this about the same amount of time or so.
Anyway, it got me to thinking about how there always seems to be someone out there who says something like, "I know exactly how you feel."
It's not always about weight loss. It's also about things as varied as the loss of a beloved pet, a divorce, or even getting an A on a paper or a story about not being able to find a parking space.
Unless you are somehow hooked up to not only my nerve endings but also my brain (for it is both transmission and reception when it comes to feelings, yanno), then there is no way in hell that you possibly could.
Now, I recognize that there is an effort to express empathy. And it may be clumsily executed at times. I am well aware that people *MEAN* well.
I also know I have said things like this at times, and so, for anyone I have said that to, my apologies, as it was wrong-headed.
You do not know what I feel.
You do not know what I see.
You do not sense what I sense.
You do not perceive what I perceive.
There are 400-pound women out there who look in the mirror and think: awful.
There are others who look and see: skinny.
Others look and see: potential.
And they are right within all of their own personal contexts.
Now, only in a crazy world is 400 pounds skinny.
Unless, of course, you've been 500.
It is awful in a lot of ways - I think most of us can see that, objectively. It is certainly awful in terms of what someone can do, right?
Unless, of course, you could do nothing last week and now you can walk to the mailbox without wheezing.
It is also potential, for those who are going somewhere.
But that's all of us.
We are all going somewhere.
Some of us are riding to hell in a handbasket, letting the world dictate our choices and decide our desires and we aren't being careful and we think we have just another day to screw up, or we see an end to this crazy lifestyle change, when the reality is that, let's face it, folks, this is for keeps, and you are in pretty damned deep denial if you think otherwise.
Others are coasting, trying a little, not always getting there, sometimes going backwards, perhaps also unsure about the permanence of the whole thing.
And there are others who are working their tails off. And scales don't always budge and even measuring tapes aren't always as wonderful as we would like, but we persevere. Attempts are made. They don't always fly. But there is trying. There is doing. And, eventually, it will turn into something.
I am not a mirror onto which you may project your insecurities, hopes, fears, dreams and prejudices.
And you are not my mirror, either.
We are not the same. We do not come from the same place. We do not go to the same one, either.
I do not know how you feel. I never will. You will never know that about me, either. We only see snapshots of each other, even if we check in every single day. These are points on a graph, but we tend to not see the trends in each other, or the origination points.
When I look in that mirror, what do I see?
I see 49, but it doesn't look too much like 49, it looks a lot more like most people's 39.
I see 210 lbs. but it doesn't look too much like most people's 210. It looks a lot more like most peoples 200, or even 190 lbs.
I see parentheses lines around my mouth, and the fact that I really need to color my roots and my fingernails are uneven and if I could afford it, I'd have much better fashion sense.
I also see few to no crow's feet, and most of my hair is colored blonde, and fingernails may be uneven but my hands are clean and yeah, I still dress like a geek but I'm comfortable and I'm warm and my clothes are clean and free of patches and I am damned lucky to have them, seeing as a lot of people go without.
In the end, bottom line, our experiences are our own, our perceptions are our own, our feelings and our choices and our consequences are our own.
Own them. Don't let anyone else take them away from you.
Monday, November 07, 2011
So - I am, already, bored silly.
I think it has more to do with the facts that (a) the weather is changing and I KNOW that SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) is on its way and (b) this is the kind of job I was trying to get away from when I went to work for the 'Bot Boys.
It's not horrible. Really.
I have a wonderful commute, and I can walk home for a good 25 - 30 mins every night unless it's icy. The people are nice. The pace is easy (despite what they seem to think; truly, there is not too much happenin' here. Then again, I multitask so much that it often seems like there is less to do than, perhaps, there really is). I am updating my skills. I am meeting people. I am repairing my bank accounts and paying off my mortgage.
And I am, flat-out, bored.
In other news, I completed my 24th 5K yesterday. I did it in 44:47, which is an okay (worst third or so of my times) time for me, and I was dead last, which is a position I am more than used to, so no worries.
I also did it - CONFESSION TIME - using performance-enhancing drugs.
I know, shocking, right?
I am a naughty girl.
Those drugs were 2 Advil. And it was a much nicer 5K than I normally have. I had taken the 2 tablets about 3 hours earlier and forgotten about them. Then, as I am joggin' along, I thought to myself, hey, the bottom of my foot doesn't hurt. My shins feel good. I am not feeling like I have to constantly wheeze.
I am so in space that it took until about Mile #2 before I realized why I felt as lovely as I did.
Heh, so, this one needs a big ole asterisk. Mucho scandal!
One more to go this year (Somerville Jingle Bell Run), in December. And then we wrap it up until March (Somerville Ras Na Hieram Run).
The December race will, hopefully, not be too snowy and cold. Yesterday, I definitely wore the right combo of clothes (performance fleece hoodie, long-sleeve performance something-or-other material shirt, shorts, workout tights, 2 pairs o' socks, sports bra, unmentionable underthingies, sneaks, a Red Sox baseball cap and convertible mitten-gloves). When I got hot, I de-layer-ified. When I cooled down, I re-layer-ified. At any rate, I'd like to keep the same outfit for next month. I gotta say, I am glad to be married for a lotta reasons, but one of 'em is the fact that I get to not give a damn about what I wear to a race. I KNOW I look wicked bizaah.
But I am wearing a Red Sox cap while doing it, which accessorizes pretty much any ensemble but a Prom dress.
Onward to less boring times.
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