I, much like Sheryl Crow, think a change would do me good. Moving into the new year I hope to see a lot of changes in my life, especially when it comes to how I prioritize. So I’ve decided to kick off 2013 (aka: the year of change) a few days before we actually ring in the new year by giving the blog a face lift. Introducing a new look!
I started off strong. I practiced portion control at every meal. A week and a half went by and I was 2 lbs lighter. 2 whole pounds! I rewarded myself with a family sized bag of Lays potato chips. My big gold star.
My last weigh in reflected that I had gained the 2 pounds back PLUS 4 ounces! I picked up a pen, paper and envelope determined to give Frito-Lay a piece of my mind. Hate mail! Dear Frito-Lay, You are the root of all evil. May I suggest you take a seat to the left of God as Lucifer needs a smoke break. That will teach them! P.S. I can’t stay mad at you…I love you. When are you going to make the bags of Cheetos in vending machines bigger? I like my snacks a little larger, preferably Family Size.
Who was I kidding? Certainly not Frito-Lay or myself for that matter. I had to take a different approach. And then something magical happened. The answer fell into my lap via an email from Steve’s cousin titled “5k? (Yes, I May Be Delirious Right Now).” She proposed we participate in a 5K foam run/obstacle course. My first reaction was to give her the same answer I give everybody else who tries to talk me into running:
“Oh hell to the no! Why would anybody who’s not on some illegal substance running from the Po-Po choose to run for three miles?”
But I refrained deciding that I need a goal to motivate me. Although I’d rather smoke crack for a speedy weight loss plan, I can’t find a dealer in this little suburb so I reluctantly agreed to a 5k at the end of May. Notice the emphasis on “reluctantly.”
Being “skinny” has never come easy to me. When I work out regularly and eat right, I’m thin. This year I spent my time watching Kim & Kourtney Take New York while munching on chips and guacamole. I went up a dress size in less time than Kim decided to stay in her marriage. Last Thursday I stepped on the scale and discovered that I’ve gained 16lbs in 15 months. In that moment I hated the scale. I accused the son-of-a-bitch of lying and gave it a swift and powerful kick across the tile bathroom floor. CRASH! I figured I had knocked some sense into my newly appointed arch enemy so I stepped back on expecting to see better results. The same number appeared on the screen (you be trippn’ if you think I’m announcing my actual weight to the world wide web!). In that moment I hated myself. That night I laid awake thinking about all the ways I’d like to change my physical appearance. I made a mental note to Google a list of liposuction clinics and weight loss centers. I made plans to start using stretch mark cream on my thighs in hopes of reducing the cellulite and shadowing under my cheeks bones for a more Cher like appearance. Looking like a chunky Chipmunk (no offense Theodore) isn’t exactly how I want to spend my 30’s. I’m finally at a point in my life where I don’t feel completely guilty about treating myself to a pair of Badgley Mischka every now and then. Sadly, now I’m worried the heels won’t be able to hold the added weight of the precious cargo they’re carrying.
The next day I covered up the dark under eye circles fueled by sleepless worry and began my search for liposuction procedures on Youtube.com. After watching countless surgeries gone terribly wrong, I scratched the tummy tuck idea off my list. Permanently. I’m going to have to face this bulge of lard the old fashion way – diet and exercise damn it! I promise this will not turn into a weight loss blog, however I do plan to write about my struggles and successes on occasion. Documenting this journey to remove the junk in my trunk and jiggle in my middle will be my means of holding myself accountable.
I’ve been giving a lot of thought to resolutions lately. Who doesn’t this time of year? Steve and I decided to start a new tradition. We each listed 10 personal goals for ourselves for the year, wrote them in a notebook and will be checking in on each other’s progress on a quarterly basis. Let me repeat these are “personal” goals and since I’m tired of hearing my husband remind me about “the circle of trust” that we agreed upon in premarital counseling I won’t be listing our personal goals on the blog.
On a less personal note, I do resolve to change up the blog a bit this year. Expect to see a few more categories. Welcome 2012!
Oh and for those of you who may be wondering, I didn’t get a pet pig for Christmas which I feel is complete and utter bull crap!!
Another year has come and gone. It was filled with some somber moments but mostly a lot of love and laughter. Here’s a list of highs and lows….starting with the lows because I always like to end on a high note.
1.) My father-in-law was diagnosed with a brain tumor and had to undergo emergency surgery. Events like this certainly put what’s truly important in perspective.
2.) My grandmother passed away.
3.) My cousin also passed away this year far too young.
4.) I fell down the stairs and ripped the ligaments in my foot AT my sister’s wedding causing me to be unable to participate in the widely anticipated dance off. (By “widely anticipated” what I mean is that 4 other people were really looking forward to seeing it).
5.) A 10lbs weight gain which moved me up one clothing size.
1.) Continuing the blog for an entire year – Usually I start something and then quit midway through filling the air with excuses…no time with work, travel, etc. Yeah, I’m one of THOSE types of people.
2.) Hitting our one year of marriage mark! Quite an accomplishment considering the day before the wedding I was so scared I considered booking a one way ticket to Mexico! Hola. Mi nombre es Runaway Bride.
3.) Completing a kitchen remodel and falling head over heels in love with my new appliances.
4.) My father-in-law recovering more quickly than anticipated and getting better every day.
5.) Turning 34 years old because it’s still one year short of being considered “in my mid 30’s.”
6.) My sister getting married to not just somebody I can tolerate, but to somebody that I actually really like!
Tonight I look forward to toasting in the New Year, not because I’m happy that 2011 is coming to an end, but because I’m excited to experience what the future has in store for me.
Happy New Year!
It was a rough day…mostly for the people around me. I’m not proud of letting my inner Grinch shine through, but it did. BIG. TIME. The lowlight of my day was when I flipped off a woman in her mid 70’s in the mall parking lot. I wasn’t me. I was possessed. I didn’t just flip her off. I pushed my foot on the break, hung my torso out the window and gave her a good two fisted F’ YOU! F’ YOU! F’ YOU!!! I experienced a brief but horrifically unforgettable moment of insanity. Sadly, that wasn’t the worst of my actions. I also made sure to exaggerate the form of my lips in the rearview mirror so that I was sure she could read all the appalling names I was calling her. Names that would make Lady Gaga blush! And then to top it off, I wished for her to crash her pretty little BMW into a tree in hopes that it would cause her disfigurement.
It was a rough day…mostly for the 75 year old woman in the mall parking lot. Not even 24 hours after Sunday mass, I snapped. I forgot what Christmas is all about. Rather than lashing out I should practiced forgiveness. She was probably having a rough day herself.
I felt guilty the entire ride back to work. I’m what my husband calls a mental case, an atheist would call a hypocrite and Jesus would call human. I’m still just a girl under renovation.
This weekend we plan to break out the holiday
jeer cheer. Over the years, Steve and I have formed a 4 part process for our holiday decorating:
Excitement! It’s Christmas after all and we’re celebrating the joyous birth of our lil’ baby Jesus all wrapped up in an electric colored dream coat…wait a second, that doesn’t sound right.
Spike the eggnog and breakout the Christmas ornaments only to learn that half of them are broken. This is expected since we’re generally too tired to wrap them nicely while taking them down the year before. But it’s okay because we are still celebrating the birth of our savior.
This is about the time when the dirty looks start. “Steve, why would you put this gold ball right here when every other ornament is gold around it? I mean seridiculously (the word I use when somebody is being seriously ridiculous), are you trying to ruin Christmas? Are you trying to make Jesus cry on his birthday? What are you going to do next? Run over Santa Claus?”
We admire the final result … a home that looks like Christmas threw up all over it. We think about all the celebrations we’ll attend over the next few weeks surrounded by everybody Jesus has blessed us with, our fantastic friends and family, and we smile. We smile the kind of smile so real that teeth show.
I’m a lucky girl. Seriously, I’ve been blessed with an abundance of gifts. Thanksgiving is over but I’m still in awe of how much I have to be thankful for in my life. I wish I could list all my blessings but the list is far too long. I’m concerned that a screen would pop up saying “Wrap it up!” and music would cut me off like a celebrity at the Oscars. So I’ll keep it short and sweet.
I’m thankful for my parents. They worked hard to put me in a socio-economic class that encourages education. Not everybody has that type of community support. This is apparent in the fact that in 2007, the high school dropout rate among persons 16- 24 years old was highest in low-income families (16.7%) as compared to high-income families (3.2%). If you can’t afford books at home, if your schools aren’t populated with the best most qualified teachers and if your school only receives half the funding of a more affluent neighborhood a solid education is a far more difficult to obtain.
My college education has provided me with many things, healthcare which nearly 59 million Americans went without for at least part of 2010**. It’s provided me with a means to own a home at a time when 3.8 million people lost their homes last year.*** It’s afforded me delicious food on my plate when 852 million people worldwide are starving.****
I am thankful for finding a husband who I know will stick it out with me even in the toughest of times because 50% of marriages will end next year. *****
I am thankful for all my family and friends and readers too.
Happy Belated Thanksgiving All!
* National Center for Education Statistics, 2008).
**Huff Post Politics, November 2011
*** HousingWire.com, November 2011 (Stats for CA foreclosures in 2011)
**** IPS, 2006
Last week I was in the doctor’s office for my annual exam. It had been a while since I originally filled out insurance and emergency contact information so the receptionist asked me to fill out new paperwork. I was happy to oblige and even happier to write 32 years old on the documents. 32 isn’t so bad. I have 3 years left before I hit that “mid 30’s” point. I walked into the room, stepped into my flowered paper gown (felt the cool breeze) and waited for the nurse. She walked in looking at my file and asked me to confirm my age. “32” I replied again. Geeze…how many times do I have to tell these people??. She cocked her head to the side, “Are you sure?” she asked. I quickly did the math (Dec 1977 minus Sep 2011). “33” I answered. Shoot. I just lost another year.
Tell me the truth. Do I look like this?
In exactly one week my sister will have a new last name (weird). She will pledge to love and honor the man who will give her this new last name (still weird). She will vow to love him, even when she doesn’t like him (sort of like our childhood together). She will agree to forgive him, even when she’d rather be pointing fingers (nothing at all like our childhood together).
In exactly one week I will stand before her closest family and friends, Champagne in hand, trying to summarize my love for my sister and express how happy I am that she has found her “one.” This task seems impossible to do with mere words and yet performing an interpretive dance at a wedding seems sort of awkward. Or does it?