Saturday, January 25, 2014
Yes…I've been gone a while. Sorry. I promise not to wander away again!
But that's not what this blog is about.
Every once in a while, I run into a Sparker who seems to be filled with nothing but vitriol. They are angry. They know everything. You know nothing. AND they feel the need to yell at you about it.
I literally had a Sparker yell all in caps at me about something…and I just sat here looking at her post thinking, "Really? You feel the need to yell about that?"
So, then I went to her SparkPage…and she has two friends. I believe they are the two friends we are all given when we join. And I think to myself, "Self, that's why she only has two friends…because she's unpleasant and yells at people." She's been here a year…and hasn't made friends with anyone.
I could feel bad for her. I could wonder what it must be like to alienate everyone who you talk to. I could think to myself, "Self, would you like it if you were all alone?"
My answer would be, "No…I wouldn't like it if I was all alone…but I don't go around yelling at people."
So, what do you think Sparkers? Do we owe people who can't play nice with others our sympathy? Or do they have nobody to blame but themselves for their misery? Do you think being a mean person would some how affect their body image? Do you think having a grouchy attitude would be a stumbling block when it comes to weight loss?
Friday, October 04, 2013
I wandered away. I haven't recorded my food for days. I haven't officially exercised in I don't know how long...and I've paid the price for it. My jeans are a little more snug. My head's a little cloudy. My skin isn't glowing. I'm a mess really.
You should have seen the food I was eating! I have a friend who is a Nutrition professor, and she says, "There are no GOOD foods or BAD foods," but I think she may be lying about that. I definitely ate some bad food.
You are what you eat, Sparkers...and you don't want to be the food I ate. I don't want to be the food I ate either.
So, it's back to the grind. I think I can get back to the straight and narrow now.
This whole last month has been filled with stupid family drama, work drama, and school drama. My little brother, who I mentioned before, is still struggling with anxiety and eating disorders. It was time to sign him up to go back to college. He fought me tooth and nail until last night. He gave in, and we're signing him up this afternoon. My coworkers are, as usual, a neurotic and vicious bundle of craziness. The coworker who makes snide comments about my weight, has been making a big deal about how she's riding in this big bike race this week...and how she's so tired from training, and how I'm so lucky to be able to eat whatever I want and be lazy.
I took a class this semester, as I sometimes do. It's a studio watercolor class. I figured it would be fairly relaxing. NO. It's like art on crank. I feel like when I walk through the door, suddenly I'm thrown into a blender, and then spit out after 2.5 hours. It's good for me to be in a demanding class. I have an art degree, and I tend to rest on my laurels quite a bit, BUT dang...this class is insane. And there's one student who absolutely gets under my skin. She's smug. I hate smug. She's also mean to the other students. I don't tolerate that nonsense. So, I feel like it's my job to keep her from making other people cry.
To top it all off, my husband is still all wrapped up in his aggro attitude.
So, there's just no port in a storm.
These are the things that drove me to make excuses about eating crap and not exercising. I'm done with that now. It's time to get back to work.
Be strong Sparkers...even if you don't want to!
Sunday, September 22, 2013
So, last night, my husband and I had an argument. We don't often have arguments. I am always amazed at how often I see other couples arguing. I figure their lives must be pretty miserable, with all that conflict and yelling and crap.
At any rate, we had one of our rare arguments last night. There was NO way I was going to sleep in the same bed as him. Truly, I was furious. If he had stood closer to me, I would have kicked him in the shins. I was the kind of mad that my mom used to torment us with. She'd get really quiet and weird. People who didn't know her so well, wouldn't realize she was mad, but me and my siblings knew not to get close enough to her that she could accurately throw something at our heads...or kick our shins. (Yes, my mother would often kick our shins under the table if we did something wrong at dinner. She would also flick our ears, quickly, while nobody was looking, if we did something she found to be unacceptable. She still does these things, if you let her get close enough to you.)
So, I was doing my mom impression, stewing away. I decided to make a bed for myself on the couch. Now, our couch is not the most comfortable couch in the world. In fact, it's a cheap piece of crap. I would have bought a more expensive and comfortable one...but my husband is stereotypically Scottish. He will buy a cheap piece of crap to save money...even though he's going to have to replace that cheap piece of crap later, and thus end up spending MORE money. Usually, I deal with this by letting him figure this out for himself. He always admits that I was right about buying something that won't break...but the next time we have to buy something expensive, he goes for the cheap piece of crap again.
There I was, settling down to sleep on my not-at-all-comfortable couch, to sleep...without my husband...without my dogs...without my husband's white noise machine that makes me feel like I'm sleeping in the cargo compartment of a DC-9.
(That's a DC-9 for those of you who didn't know.)
It was just me, my quilt that I just pulled out of storage, my pillow, and a delightful lack of humans and animals crowding me out of my bed.
You know what?
I slept better last night, on that crappy little couch, than I have slept in MONTHS...maybe YEARS.
I woke up this morning to the strange little chirps of our local hummingbird, feeding at the flowers that grow outside the window, directly next to where my head was resting. It was like a gawd dammed Disney movie.
Today, I will be meditating on the implications of this beautiful, restful experience.
What I know for sure, my husband better get his apologies and humble pie together...because that couch, the snuggy quilt, and the magical woodland creatures could become a serious habit for me otherwise.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Well, yesterday went well.
It went better than expected, in fact.
I wore my outfit, with my size 4 Banana Republic denim skirt, and my horizontally striped, brightly colored shirt. Nobody ran away, shrieking in terror. In fact, I received compliments on how lovely I looked. My hair seemed to be the subject of much conversation...how brave I was to cut it all off and how flattering it was to my face.
My coworkers were all chummy and in high spirits.
The two people I wanted to avoid both were there. The one who always gives me grief about my weight was seated nearby, but didn't say a word to me. In fact, she almost entirely avoided eye contact with me. I see this as progress. Because quite frankly, I don't want her to suffer from the illusion that we are still friends, nor do I want to suffer through any halfhearted pleasantries she may be obliged to bestow on me.
The other former friend, he was always hovering nearby, but any time he came too close, it was like the universe miraculously sent a REAL friend to me to rescue me.
And that was the valuable lesson I learned yesterday. I am surrounded by wonderful, caring, intelligent, talented, and kindhearted people. I really am. Today, I have been rolling that idea around in my head. I feel lucky...for the first time in years.
I used to tell people all the time that I was the luckiest person they would ever meet. But then my life took a turn, and I suffered from all manner of unfortunate events. I truly believe things are starting to change...and my luck (whatever luck is) is back.
My life is changing, Sparkers. All I had to do was be strong enough to get through that rough patch (which lasted right around six years). Now, I am finally starting to feel like MYSELF again.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Well Sparkers, I am trying to be brave.
I am trying to do new things. I am trying to do things that I used to do every day, but I've forgotten how to do, because somehow I lost my sense of self.
Tomorrow, at work, we will have a big shindig. We do this twice a year. I have avoided it like the plague for the last seven years. THIS year, I want to force myself to go. It's ridiculous that I don't go. I started hiding to avoid certain people (see my last blog), and I got stuck in the habit of hiding.
When it boils right down to it, it's my weight. I know that sounds stupid. I talk to folks all the time here on SP who have 100+ pounds to lose, and they see my ticker with its "134," and they tell me I'm being absurd. I know I am...but I just haven't been able to shake it. I'm terrified that people will see me and whisper about how I "let (myself) go."
BUT I want to shake it. So, tomorrow I will go to the shindig. Not only that, but I will wear my size 4 Banana Republic denim skirt. Yes, I know, it's absurd to think that your are grotesquely blubberous if you can fit into a size 4 Banana Republic skirt. I will wear it with a brightly colored shirt...that has HORIZONTAL stripes. That's right. I said horizontal. Those are the dreaded stripes that are guaranteed to make you look fatter. The shirt itself is a loose cut, that flares out at the bottom. My mother would say, "Honey, people will think you're *expecting* if you wear that in public." But I'm going to wear it anyway. (I can hear her voice in my head every time I put that shirt on.) And then, I shall really push the envelope and wear leggings under the skirt, just to add an extra layer of cloth, to bulk me up as much as possible and keep my silhouette from being smooth and slimming.
I even took a picture for you...
This was all prompted today by seeing a girl who was wearing bright orange hot pants. She was walking to her car. Not a care in the world...but she must have weighed at least 100 pounds more than me. I saw her, and I realized I wasn't disgusted. Nobody on the street was disgusted. Nobody ran screaming from the sight of her. She was confident and walked to her car, seemingly without a care in the world.
I used to wear elaborate things. I used to be quite brave. Here's an old gem I dug up...
I'd wear that and think nothing of it. I probably had five layers of clothing on in that pic. I remember asking my (future) husband if he thought I looked too bulky. He just laughed.
Back when I weighed 110...I STILL worried about how I looked. I was convinced I was disgusting. But I was surrounded by people who weighed 110, and who all thought the same way I did.
This week, I've been taking stock of my life, and trying to fix all the troubles that have piled up on me over the years. Tomorrow, I am going to do my darnedest to smash one of those troubles.
Be stronger Sparkers! Keep up the good fight!
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