Monday, November 24, 2014
My sister-in-law dropped in to check on her brother, my husband. He's been convalescing from surgery he's had last month which has left him immobile. After taking a seat and generally asking about how he felt, she switched gears.
She wanted to discuss how we both needed to lose weight.
Now I won't take anything way from her. After a 15-poind loss, she was svelte, stylish. She showed of her before pic she had in her phone.
It wasn't that long ago a former friend, a coworker of mine berated me on my gain. Both instances happened after a parent died. My recent bout had been after my dad died and I developed debilitating PTSD, and I stated so.
"You don't have to tell me. I've been depressed after Mama."
I took a breath. Their mom died ten years prior and my dad's passing is coming up on two years.
Hubby cannot move with an Achilles tendon surgery aftermath and it's simply not like he can do anything now. With the healing process came atrophy on his left leg and the standard gain in which comes with it.
I do realize, being both of us are in our fifties, less weight is better and advantageous. As little as ten pounds does a body good.
However, isn't there a better way to encourage a person to take better care of him/herself?
Both instances, the comment has come across abrasive. As this was family, I chose not to snap a tart reply. But, truth be told, the next person who tells me what I already know will leave my presence with burning ears and a equally bruised countenance!
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
I'm not sure when it happened. It was quick. It was slow, slight, subtle. It was something that obviously crept up on me catching me off guard.
There I was standing in church after service ended with my grown son and a friend of mine named Tara. She was far along in her pregnancy and she expressed how tired she was. I found myself counseling her about taking advantage of all the rest she could possibly get remembering well how hectic a young mother's life can be once the baby comes.
She listened politely, smiling as she did and responded "Yes, Ma'am."
Really? Am I old enough to be referred with this?
Heck, I was just jamming to Evelyn King's "Shame" in the family car, blasting the speakers, bobbing and dancing behind the wheel. The car had no air conditioning, but that was alright.
When I was but a little girl, nothing would do but for me grow up. My young mind reasoned as it so often did I could do so much more beyond my parental confines. When I was ten, I joined the orchestra. When I was sixteen, I had my first solo -- full of angry butterflies in my stomach -- during the Christmas concert in high school. I wanted to bust out of my small town, so I joined the military.
I never listened to the word "can't". Why should I? Why should I be exempt from experience? Why should I cut myself off at the knee caps and not try? I'd tried many things only to enjoy the moments, things I'd never considered until I tried. Belly dancing. Martial arts. Writing. Returning to college. Competing in tournaments. Indeed, that negative only spurred me on towards the things I'd been told I could not do.
And the funny thing is when I share my amazement on how I did any marvelous thing, my friends ceased being surprised. Indeed, they've come to expect my outgoingness spurs me on towards the next thing. Perhaps my inner flamboyance have something to do with it.
"When" I'd been asked "will it be enough?"
"Never" I 'd often respond flippantly. I never could understand how a person could not be "more", not press beyond boundaries once in a while. Even now, I am often quizzed as to "why". I am grown, doggone it. I can do what I want to do.
That's not to say this three-hour journey hasn't tossed me around and shipwrecked on various islands, some I lived on for years in order for me to heal, to learn, and to reflect. Living any length of time will do it. If anything, I am not slowing up in my desire to experience more. Maybe I'll be a Grande dame on stage. Maybe I'll write a novel and two people will buy it. Maybe I will become that 4th degree Black Belt in December. I find my life is not influenced by my weight as much as my determination. Why should I cease because I am a few decades heavier? Regardless of my full face and even fuller body, I have a twinkle in my eyes. This aging expedition is one that occasionally singes me like Icarus getting too close to the sun, but it's one of continuous beauty and intrigue.
Ceasing is not an option. Time for that bright red lipstick while I'm walking in the sun!
Wednesday, August 06, 2014
I was dressing to take a walk when my 10-year-old pup, Kovu began whining. I sighed. I swore to myself I wouldn't take him because he slows me up by sniffing, sprinkling, and stopping. Of course, as I was staring into his big brown eyes, I grabbed his leash and out the door we went.
The day was beautiful yet muggy, a typical Carolina summer morning. Three Dog Night crooned about old-fashioned love songs. Gladys Knight went on and one. Eddie LeVert and his woman cried together.
Kovu stopped every few feet. I tugged and huffed, coaxing him along. Soon, mistress and dog merged into a shared rhythm along the sidewalk. After the first hill, my pace was assured.
Then sang Whitney Houston. I smiled. I began dancing around as I walked. I didn't care who saw me.
I mused as I thought of high school. College graduation (at 49 years of age). The birth of my sons. Their graduations. Football games. Each black belt I earned. My first 10-K. Sitting on the beach as the ocean waves mesmerize me. My first published work. Singing on stage. My elder's Marine graduation. My own boot camp. Yelling at the top of my lungs "just because". The echoes of my sons telling me I can do "anything".
I know I can do anything!
My heart swelled with expectation. My pace quickened as Kovu panted by my side. I was smiling. I was enjoying myself.
It was during this moment I came to realize I gained the elusive emotion of motivation. Each adventure, each experience, each completed trial bought me joy. I didn't fret about body size. I wasn't worried about what anyone thought or believed. I had sweated, cried over, and pumped my arms in victory over each cobblestone of my journey. I continue to follow my own path.
As long as I have breath in my body, there is absolutely nothing I cannot accomplish. Sure, there will be periods of doubt, times I won't "want to do", meandering of "what is the point of it all".
As long as I don't give up, I won't fail!
Monday, July 28, 2014
Yesterday afternoon was pretty typical around my house. Hubby and son were in their respective rooms. I was in my den doing a DVD. I was really getting into it, my grunts sounding very much like bedroom noises.
The phone rang. Company coming over, hubby said.
Well, OK. I was doing my thing with no desire to stop anything.
A few moments later, our friends came in. Their voices wafted down the hallway.
"No, no, no!" I'm thinking. I had to chuckle. I would always get so annoyed when I was interrupted in the middle of my workout. I wanted to stay mentally in my zone.
But it wasn't to be. My friend and her daughters entered the den, smiling, asking "what I was doing"
Wasn't it obvious?
I paused the DVD, not wanting to be impolite but itching to return to business. Sweat was running down my face, my body. Kovu was laying next to my step. My weighed were scattered across the floor.
"So. Is this Crossfit?" my friend asked.
"No" I hoped my annoyance wasn't obvious. "It's Les Mills."
"Oh" she smiled.
A flashing neon-signed "jealousy" pulsed across my forehead as I studied her shapely form. She was stunning! Her firm body, a perfect sized 8, was effortless. She was a runner, doing it a few times a week. It wasn't long ago she was struggling with her weight, but it appeared she conquered the overweight demon. My 7-pound loss paled in comparison.
I paused the DVD again. Kovu sighed. I sighed.
"Don't y'all see what I'm trying to do?"
"Aunt Claudelle. Look at my tan line." My goddaughter worked as a lifeguard for the nearest YMCA. Sun glistened across her brown skin.
"Aunt Claudelle. Do you have my flash drive?" My other niece was a writer and wanted me to read her work. I reached for it on my desk and handed it to her.
This was SO MUCH like the old days. How I hated to be interrupted! Perhaps I was really on the right track.
Should I make them go up to the living room with my family? Should I just chuck the workout? I was in a quandary. The DVD began again. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and pressed stop. I turned off the TV and motioned for them to go to the front of the house.
Dang! I should've started earlier.
Later, husband stated I could just pick up where I left off. But it was 10 p.m. Too close to bedtime for me to finish where I left off.
I hunkered down to watch "True Blood". I have Monday morning of quiet to do what I wanted to do.
Saturday, July 05, 2014
My firstborn came home from Pensacola, FL for the weekend. He went to You Tube to show me this squat challenge. Not only was the music kicking, but he, his brother and I did this. I petered out after a minute. Fascinated, I am determined to do this three times a week.
After my thirty-minute walk, I made it two minutes. (I was sore from that minutes I did yesterday!) There are many variations I can do--squats, crunches, push ups--so much so I can mix it up and vary it.
Eventually I hope to build up to weighed squats.
Sure pays to have a Marine Corps son!
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