Friday, November 13, 2009
I was lamenting my growing slightly smaller breasts. (They're triple D's, so I don't really think I'm in any danger of losing too much, but still...they are not the same anymore) And mused whether or not I could actually go under for some improvements. (Obviously in my musings, money is no object) What do I really consider not so aesthetically pleasing? I've always liked my "girls", but how long will that hold? As they shrink and sag will I still love them? How about my changing arms? The fat that was there used to be plumped up and therefore didn't keep moving long after I stopped waving. Now, there is some flappy upper arm waving going on. Not so much liking that. I know Oprah had serious issues with her flappy upper arms, but didn't like the fact that there would be visible scars from the surgery. The scarring gets to me too. I've seen breast reduction surgery (I always thought that's the kind of surgery I would need someday) and the scarring is awful! What they have to do to reduce a boob is amazing! I decided that I would only go through with it if my quality of life was seriously compromised. Well, that's a good rule of thumb, don't you think? If your quality of life is seriously compromised-then surgery is okay. Except, I know people who have chosen to get face lifts, nose tweaks, and mild boob-jobs and it did make them feel better. Their lives were not compromised (except in their minds). You really wouldn't even know they got it done. Now that's a good plastic surgery outcome, if you ask me. I wouldn't want to be a different me. I've spent a lot of time dealing with the lot I was given. I don't like the idea of everyone looking the same. A perfect ideal. Unique is cool. Unique is flavor. I may not be a Hollywood starlet--but I'm not so sure I'd want to be. Defending my big nose is part of what has made me-ME. If my feet weren't a glorious size 9, what would I have in common with my not height challenged cousins? How am I going to be the cute little Polish grandma if I changed my squishy parts? Ya need some squishy parts to give good hugs! So when you see my nose, boobs and feet coming round the corner, never fear a big flappin wave and a squishy hug are soon to follow! It's just Jenn. Me. Beautiful, God given ME.
Of course, if you happen to be independently wealthy and a like to share... send me a private message. We'll talk. LOL!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Okay, so I finally got this picture to load. These are my precious green eyes. (body part I'm loving this week) I love that I have green eyes. They seem so exotic. I do remember a time when I wanted blue or brown because all the 'popular' people seemed to have them. But I realized that green was unique. I like being unique.
I've been told that I have my great grandma's eyes. Apparently lots of people liked her eyes and were sad when she died cause they would never see them again. Then I was born. It's kind of weird to think that I have someones else's eyes. That I remind my family members who knew her, of her. I hope I have lived up to her memory. And made some amazing new ones for them too.
I've always loved that my eyes can look more yellow or more blue depending on my mood and what I'm wearing. When I cry, I think they get so clear--it's freaky.
I did inherit the "close your eyes when your picture is taken" habit from my grandma, aunt and Mom. I find it so amusing to see pictures of all of us together. Inevitably, one or more of us has our eyes closed. (or just one eye looks all squinty) My daughter, bless her, seems to have this ailment too.
When I was asked to write a paper in school about which sense I would most NOT want to lose--it was sight. I love colors. I love to observe the world around me. I think you can tell so much about people by watching them. I would miss sunrises and sets, art, sculpture, faces, colors, depth, perspective. I know that if I had been born without sight, I would be fine. I wouldn't know what I was missing. But since I do know, I wouldn't want to live without it. My sister-in-laws grandma is losing her sight. She's been trying to travel as much as possible to see what she can, while she can. We talked for a while about it. She says she's sad, but that she knows it will be okay. I told her that she now has an excuse to touch people "inappropriately" wink wink. She laughed and said she might just become the "dirty old lady". It was moving for me to watch her, watching everything that happened at that party. And sobering. We take so much of our lives/health for granted. I don't want to miss a single moment of life any more. I want to see all I can by being present in the moment.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
I read an article on the Daily Spark this morning about whether Mom's dieting cycles influence a daughters eating disorder. Many people blogged about how, yes indeed, their parents eating habits influenced theirs.
I wanted to join in. But couldn't. Not really. Sure my parents "dieted" and had healthy eating phases and bad eating phases. Perhaps they didn't set the best examples. But I don't think it is the food that influenced me.
Emotions were not handled well in my family. My parents fought in front of us. The days events were hashed out over dinner, and if anyone had bad grades or detentions, or did something wrong--my Dad would go ballistic--at the dinner table! My Mom would get exasperated when none of us would eat what she made. Cooking was a chore. Food was not enjoyable. Unhealthy food was fought over by my brothers and myself (who could have the last Twinkie). Or foods were withheld--my Dad would eat a pint of ice cream by himself at night--no sharing. Talk about your emotional eating! My brothers and I would be in trouble if we didn't clean our plates. For a long time I couldn't eat peas because of this.
No one exercised regularly. It wasn't really even encouraged. I played sports, but was never encouraged to improve myself for a sport. Grades were always more important.
Food is not a problem. Emotions behind the food are the kicker for me. I've been trying so hard to not even label food as good or bad. Just simply that some are better for me than others. I've also been trying very hard to get a handle on my emotions in a healthy way. I want exercise to be a part of my life, daily, and a part of my daughters life. I know that my living a life that is healthy is the best way for her to do it to.
I am setting a new goal for myself this week. I will eat dinner with my daughter every night. I don't usually do this. It is hard with just 2 of us. Were not always hungry at the same time and she hates everything I make (which throws me back to my childhood and my Mom being upset about my not liking what she made). I've tried this before. But now I know there is no try--just DO!. It will be neat to see what happens. I enjoy our dinners together, usually. I don't want to lose touch with her as she gets older.
Do you make family dinners a priority? How do you handle differing "tastes"? What do you think provides the most influence in how our kids eating habits form?
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
I went through a tough divorce almost 7 years ago now. I felt discarded. Useless. Ugly. Angry. Sad. Rung out. And that is definitely what I saw in pictures and in the mirror every day. No one would ever love me. My "soul mate" didn't. Why would any one else?
Now, I have an amazing network of friends. Which, by the way, is growing to include several people on Spark. My friends never saw me as ugly or useless. They felt my sorrow and pain, but they never let me quit on myself. They were there to tell me I was beautiful (and why). They kept asking me for facts behind my lame observations-which led me to conclude that my observations were a bunch of lies. They built me up when I needed help, but they also pointed me in directions where I could build myself up. I went back to school. (Kicked butt on my grades and passing State Boards). I went back to church (different from the one of my upbringing). I built new friendships. I started to feel better about myself; but I still had the nagging feeling that I would never be loved again.
All the while I had been working diligently to journal my feelings. And to put a reality check on my feelings. My feelings continued to dictate what I saw in the mirror. And often what I saw could change in a matter of minutes. My church did a huge, all church journey called ID. This required my journaling, but also meeting with people weekly and talking about what we unearthed. In a previous series I worked out a lot of my anger. But this series was more tough for me--in that it was all about LOVE. I unearthed a deep seeded feeling that I was unlovable. I believed that no one (including God) would/could ever love me. I prayed for some enlightenment. And I humbled myself to God--I mean, how dare I tell God how to feel about me!? I started to accept God's love. It was freeing. Then I asked God to show me what He sees in me. Now, here's where a miracle happened.
I woke up, went about my normal routine, glanced at myself in the mirror, and was paralyzed. I was shocked by the beautiful woman I saw. I looked away. But had to look back. OMG! It was ME!!! I had never seen myself like that! I didn't want to look away for fear it would be gone. I wanted to really revel in what I saw. Drink it in. Remember it, just in case it was a mirage. Alas, I had to go on with my day. I tore myself reluctantly away from the mirror. But when I passed another mirror, I braved a peek. Oh, wow! I still see her. I still see me! Beautiful, me. The entire day I saw it whenever confronted with my reflection. And later that evening I went to a friends house. We chatted for a while and as I was about to leave, she stopped me and said that she just had to say something. She said she didn't know exactly what it was, but that I looked extraordinary that day. Well knock me over with a feather! My friend sees it too! I cried and told her my experience for the day.
The next morning, I was back to seeing myself the way I always do. A back and forth love affair. But I didn't feel dejected. I still know that what I saw is still there. Nothing physically had changed about me in the past 3 days. I really was the same exact person. The beautiful me is always there. And when I am feeling particularly poopy about myself--I remember that the mirror is tricky and that the image will change given a little time and perspective.
I don't think any one person looks at themselves in a mirror and loves what they see 100% of the time! That is a fallacy. I do believe that we train ourselves to be our worst critics. The good news is--we can train ourselves to be our own best critic too. This, like weight loss, takes time. If every time you go to the mirror it is to look for imperfections, then guess what? That's what you'll see. You have to go to the mirror and tell yourself that you love what you see. Pick something and love it. Work from there. Also, not every outfit is meant to be on your body. It is the cut, color, style that is flawed--not you! Don't try on something, hate what you see, and call yourself names. Call the garment/manufacturer names, if you must call names.
I don't think it's a bad thing to want to improve our bodies. Perhaps you want more definition on your triceps, legs, or abs. Maybe you want your tush lifted. That's okay. As long as you remember that just because those things are not exactly the way you would like them to be; they don't make you ugly, or less than, or unlovable. Teach yourself to have loving expectations BEFORE you glance at the mirror. I promise, you will start to look better to yourself.
Hugs to all my beautiful friends!
Monday, November 09, 2009
I am currently losing the 20 pounds I lost last year, again. It feels different this time. In some ways it seems easier. I've been here before, I know what to buy, I know to eat, I know to exercise, etc. But it is also very different. I know that I could gain it all back again. Easily. Last year I went shopping after almost all 20 pounds were gone. I found a pair of pants that I though wouldn't fit because they were a size smaller than I'd been in a long time and they were a petite. But they were the color I'd been looking for and they were an excellent price. I finally mustered up the courage to try them on (I have to be able to handle the disappointment if they don't fit). Well. to my very surprised eyes and body-they fit! Beautifully! I managed to wear those pants a couple of times before spring and warmer weather prevailed (but I had also started the gain at that point). One thing I do remember is that I couldn't believe that those pants fit. 14 petite, me?!
As I was walking last week, I remembered those pants and I wondered if I'd be able to wear them for Thanksgiving this year. Then I remembered a story I had heard a long time ago...
A man, who was blind, prayed everyday that his site be restored. He went to bed saying that prayer and the next morning he could see! He was so excited. He went around telling everyone that he could see, he just couldn't believe it, but he could see! That night he thanks God for restoring his site and still can't believe it. The next morning, he wakes, but can not see. He laments and asks God why? Why oh why did you take my site away again? God says, because you didn't believe you could see.
When I take out those pants (I'll do it today). I'm going to look at the numbers on the label and I am going to believe they apply to me! My eyes will see that they are meant for me. My eyes will see my body in those pants and I will believe what I see because I have worked hard for those results. I have earned that pants size.
Do you believe what you see in the mirror? On the label? On the treadmill, pedometer, tracker?
Get An Email Alert Each Time STOPTHECRAVING Posts