Resolutions. Anytime. #2

Here I am again... resolving...

When I looked through my list today to pick one of the items to blog about, I wanted to write about them all!
They all seem so relevant on a daily basis and I wanted to shout them all from the rooftop. I also realized just then that that is exactly what I shouldn't do. This is something I have struggled with for years... no, not shouting (ok, yes... shouting), but what I mean is I have always tried to do it all. At once. Everything. Clean, cook, educate, discipline, work, eat right, be nice... ugh...
Inevitably, nothing worked out and I would bitch and moan and nag and cry about it. Why? Because you cannot fly 42 kites at once.

Well, at least I can't.

If you or someone you know can... then please come by my house. I will bake you a cake! :)

So, today I chose not to write about how to manage it all, but instead, how to pick ONE kite and smile while flying it high...


Resolution #2: STOP COMPLAINING!

This is me.

I am the complaints department.

And I hate it.

I hear it coming out of my mouth and before I can stop it, I have whined about yet another nothing.

Then I realized that this gal had figured it out...

She was getting shit done and smiling about it aaaand looked good doing it... bonus! Because when it comes down to it, shit does have to get done and sometimes (more often than not) you have to do it. End of story. So, why not just accept what's on your list, spare yourself the sob stories, tiny violins and lame excuses and just DO IT!

I know this may sound like tough love and maybe it is. But I learnt that all the amount of crying about a task on your to-do list won't make it go away (and what a waste of your time and energy). I also learnt that while I was stuck in my own sorry universe complaining, I was dragging the people I love around me into it to. That just wasn't fair.

Fact: There are dishes in the sink.
Fact: The dishes need to be cleaned.
Fact: I can get it done and NOT nag anyone else about it and it hasn't taken more than 10 minutes out of my day.
Fact: Everyone is happy and I haven't given my left arm or kidney for it.
Fact: There are now clean plates to eat off of.

That is just one small example. I am not saying to become the maid in your household, my kids and husband do their share too. So, if there is something I have to do... I do it. And I figure adding a smile to it would make the job go a little smoother. For me.

My list of things to do never goes away and it never will. Acceptance of this is a choice and once I chose to take it on with a smile, life became just a little more pleasant. Amazeballs.

I am still trying to figure out how this lady does it... perhaps I need a bird or bunny to sing with me. Maybe a squirrel in the rafters and a deer to help with laundry?... I dunno.

But until then, I choose to suck it up and smile, even when I don't like what's on my list. And just stop complaining about it. Cause... why?!
Not a bad lesson for my kids to grasp as well.

I confess...

I have been blogging for a couple of months now.

And my husband never knew.

Not that he needed to know about the blog specifically. I am doing this for me. But the reason I never shared it with him was because I was ashamed. Of me. You see, I never told him how much I weighed. Not then and not now. I have been carrying this 'burden' alone. And how totally stupid of me?! The man sees me every day. We have babies!

I was so ashamed and disgusted with the number on the scale that I would make sure he was safely in the shower before stepping on the scale or go out of my way to hide a form that had that horrid number on it. Even though he had seen me a hundred times before, he had never seen the number that represented just how much I had stopped caring. About myself. And ultimately about him too.

So, it seems poignant that today, on our 15th wedding anniversary, I would share with him something that has weighed heavy on me (get it?.. weigh... nevermind...) and that I had been avoiding for all these years.

His response to me in return?

His utter support and acceptance. And to me that is one hellofa gift!
No judgement. No criticism.

Even as we spoke I felt embarrassed of the words coming out of my mouth. I felt silly about this 'secret' I was keeping. And I realized how it must have seemed to him like I was treating him. Like a child.
OF COURSE he knew, or at least had some slight idea. As he pointed out... he was at the hospital filling out forms when we had the kids. He has seen 'the number' every once in a while. This is a smart man I'm talking about here. Very smart! It was such a stupid feeling even telling him, but the coming clean part felt like an enormous relief. Even though I tug at my shirt when I sit or cover my mid-section with my arms and suck it in to try and fake it sometimes, I suddenly felt like I could just be seen completely. I was lifting a veil that, to be honest, wasn't even there in anyone's reality but my own.

Maybe I could finally bring myself to share this with him because I am at my lowest weight in 16 or so years. Maybe I have just built up more confidence in myself lately (eating right and working out has that effect on me, I guess). Or maybe I knew there could be no real growth without full disclosure and honesty.

Yeah, that one.

No... all three!

Whatever it was, it's done. He knows. I breathe. He offers frozen yogurt instead of ice cream to celebrate 15 years.

:)

photobombed by a sneaky 10 year old!

Bonus moment: When I asked him how much he thinks I weigh, his answer: 220. My correction: 214... lol

Resolutions. Anytime. #1

It has taken tragedy and trauma for me, but I have realized that I could be a better person. A much better person.

That's not to say I beheaded dolls and tripped people for the fun of it.

Wait...

I did do one of those. Once. I thought it would be funny. It wasn't. I was 12. He was on a skateboard. Downhill. I put my foot out. It wasn't pretty. There was a nurse's office involved and some very dirty looks. From the nurse...

My point is, I can always be better.

A few months ago my path in life got very bumpy and it took losing my mom and a marriage wake-up call for me to realize I was walking the wrong path. I could see the right one for years but for some reason I never pushed myself to take it. I am now. And I have a list of 58 (and growing) resolutions that I look forward to taking head on.
I was not the person I knew I could be or even the person I wanted to be. Someone waved a free ice-cream cone or something stupid along the way and I took an unfortunate d-tour. Now I need to find my happy again!

My mother's passing brought into vivid clarity for me just how many missteps I took along my paths. How many times I was negligent with what was gifted to me and how there was absolutely NO time to lose. Life is not that short, but it can be wasted and not appreciated for every moment we have. I refuse to let that be my path.
(and no, she did not waste hers or take it for granted... I just didn't learn her precious lessons when she was here with me)

My marriage made me realize that I had ridden a wave right to the shore. Great, I guess. But I had never paddled or tried to stay afloat. It was all dumb luck and now we were beached. Like a big blubbery whale that went too far, we were stuck and losing hope. I am learning that you can paddle back however, even if it seems too late, there is always room for improvement and always a lesson to be learnt.
(we are a work in progress)

So, (and this may seem unrelated)...


Resolution #1: READ MORE!

I have always loved to read. I first lost myself in the fantasy worlds of Enid Blyton and Roald Dahl. From there, it was Nancy Drew and Agatha Christie all the way through high school. Stephen King was my main man for a while in college and then the rest of the world trickled in too. There was always a sprinkling of self-help books and new age writings in our home too and I was fascinated with everything from metaphysics to Taoism and even the Bermuda Triangle. Yeah, I was all over the place!
I still love a good novel and the feeling of being transported into another world. One where I don't nuke dinosaur chicken nuggets and beg for homework to be done and undies to be picked up off the floor (real life, man!), but in the past few months I have found so much healing, learning and growing in the 'self-help' books I have read and that is why reading more is first on my list.

This is my bedside table right now. And no, I don't read them all at once. These are just my 'to-do's' and some of my 'have-done's' :)

I have read books on peaceful parenting, mending relationships and mourning for a loved one. I have read about dreams and the Kabbalah, as well as books on how to simplify and add meaning to your life. These were all truly a life vest for me in an ocean of uncertainty and fear of the future.

Where a great story book takes me on a fast paced adventure or FBI thrill ride, the right self-improvement book is like a warm hug from a dear friend who just gets the shit you are going through and knows just the right thing to say. It can help you sink or swim.

I am so grateful that the books that were recommended to me helped me swim through the mess I was going through and they still help me. It isn't unheard of for me to go back and read a book again just to let the message really sink in. Sometimes I even take notes. *cough - nerd..*

I will review some of the books I read as I get through them. And soon as I am done hugging them!

Let me know if you want any recommendations :)

How did I get here?

Yes, indeed.

How did I get here?

I am honestly not sure how much I weighed when I was born, but I was definitely no lightweight!
I have two older brothers who were already out of the house when I was born and since I was the only child of two people in their second marriage and came late in their life, I was spoiled.
We didn't have much money, so I wasn't spoiled with gifts so much as with food as a reward. Everything we celebrated revolved around food. Naturally. And as is always the case, fast food and unhealthy choices are always cheaper and easier to come by than whole, healthy fare.

From the beginning of when I can remember I was always the chubby little girl but I don't think it was until I was about 10 years old that I actually realized that I looked different from the girls around me. My mom was an incredible cook and there were always baked treats around and home cooked meals. There was no calorie counting, no specific dietary needs and also not much health food awareness.
Before I reached puberty I had no problem putting on a swimsuit in public or wearing shorts in summer. But when it finally hit me around 11 years old, it was like someone had lifted a dark, heavy curtain and I was seeing the world and myself in a completely different way.
I was suddenly embarrassed of wearing a mini skirt, which in the 80's was standard issue uniform (with a scrunchie) for most girls. I wouldn't go near a pool unless it was in the company of family only, but even then my brothers would throw out little remarks that were meant to be funny, but almost always hurt.
Thunderthighs... yep.
Another number they did on me, without realizing of course, was 'checking' my food. One would make sure the orange juice 'was fresh', and drank the entire cup. Another would tell me Magnum P.I. had just blown up and as soon as I would turn my head, my chicken would vanish from my plate.
Enter eating problem #1... Eat fast cause someone might take your food!

In my teen years I was no better.
I was the fat girl. It was no longer chubby or pudgy, now it was plain old... fat.
I never got asked to any dances and the road of the heartbreaking 'she is just a friend' began here.
I hated my body and felt ashamed but mostly I hated myself for not changing it. I would cry about it often and then go eat some doughnuts. My mom tried to help and offered me numerous diets and pills to try. They never worked.
It was not yet my time. This was also the time when I honed in on a special skill... Don't let them know you're suffering. Smile. Make a joke. Be the funny one. It will be ok.
Or so I would make myself believe.

When I was about 17 I spent a year away from home in a community where I studied and did a lot of physical work and was at a somewhat OK weight. I don't remember how much that was since I was always too afraid to weigh myself, but nothing was jiggling, overlapping or hanging back then. When I moved back home I continued to exercise twice a day for half an hour. Nothing extreme, just a little aerobics here and there. I didn't even own weights. I was also a vegetarian.
No, no... wait a second, before you assume that's why I was healthier. I was a no chicken or meat vegetarian but I was very pro pasta, bread and carbs. Mr. Atkins hadn't found me yet!

When I met my husband in '98 I moved to the US and was introduced to the world of fast-fast-food!
I dropped the vegetarian act and took on burger challenges with my husband (ten McDonalds burgers. And GO!). It was awesome. He loved me. I loved food. He loved food. All was good in the world. There were doughnuts here too... and soda... and fried shit... and Chinese food... and Mexican... my taste buds were in nirvana.
There was a slight oversight on my part while I was in my food-coma... my husband had the metabolism of a hummingbird. I, however, did not.

The weight slowly crept on. I would cry about it again. He would tell me he liked my butt. We would eat out... rinse and repeat. Like 633 times! I was disgusted with myself. How could I have gotten here? Had I really eaten this much? How could my body have changed so much without me even noticing?!

Seven years after we met, we had our gorgeous little boy. It was incredible. I remember being at work and boasting that I could now eat whatever I wanted. Heck... I was feeding two now! It was glorious. I think I put on 35 pounds with my first pregnancy. And then I kept it. And you know... added more.

In 2010 I was at my all time heaviest. TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE POUNDS! Ka-pow!
I must have put a little half-assed effort into it because right before I was pregnant with our little girl, I was down to 240lbs. I had to be very careful with this pregnancy as I had developed gestational diabetes and was really watching my sugar intake. Two months after the little princess was out, I was at 218lbs.
Lowest.
Weight.
Ever.

But again, as has always been for me, the weight crept back up again. In Feb '13 I was back at 254lbs.
I began clean-er eating and healthier habits in April '14 but it wasn't until my marriage was on the rocks and my mother passed away that I had my Aha! moment and realized that no diet in the world would work for me. So, instead I have committed myself to changing my relationship with food and creating a new healthy reality for myself that I can live with forever.
Not just until next Monday.

An Interview with... Me!

Hello. Who are you?

Oh hi!
I am a wife and mom of 2. I sometimes go by daughter, sister, in-law, cousin, niece, aunt and nag. I am also a 38 year old woman who thinks it's high time to get back to happy and healthy. Maybe even dig deep and find the person I am proud of saying is me again.

(Wow. OK, that escalated quickly!)
So, why did you start this blog?

That's a great question. I don't have a great answer.
To connect with other lost souls?
*shrug*
Oh, wait... It's because I wanted to... no, that's not it either.
I think I just wanted to do... ugh...
Leave my stamp on the interwebs?...
How about I come back to that one.

Alrighty then. Obviously you haven't dug deep enough on that one, so let's just move on.
Can you tell a little about yourself?

Yes. That I can.
I grew up in South Africa until I was 17. Then we moved to Israel. I met my husband on line and then moved to sunny California where I have been married for 15 years and have given birth to two babies. I am currently in the process of bringing my sexy back. (Train wreck fans should stay tuned!). I fail often but I also never give up - a strange mix, but nevertheless, I am no quitter. No sir!
I am also artistic but not artsy-fartsy and I love almost all art from the old masters to crayola coloring books. I have no patience however for artists who drop a wad of blue paint on a beige canvas and call it something stupid like 'Exuberance'. A little effort, man!
I love to cook. I hate to clean. I love to organize and am also super lazy. Bohemian chic speaks to me. Laundry does not. I want more babies and a big family but I can only handle it for short periods of time. I love to dance but know for a fact that I got the moves like Jagger exclusively in my head. (I would love to go dancing in a club that isn't a meat market but am afraid I will end up like Leslie Mann in Knocked Up when she isn't allowed in - crying with snot on my face and sitting on the sidewalk rejected).
I love movies, TV, reading and long walks on the beach. No kidding!
I am also a cheese-ball and goofy at inappropriate moments. I woulda made one heck-of-a diamond digging dwarf if they needed an eighth.
I also ramble on and on. And on.
And on...

Quite right.
So, what will you be writing about here? (if there is anything left to actually add)

Everyday life. My kids. My husband. Things. Stuff.
Bringing my happy back. Oh, and my sexy!
I would love to be described as sex-aay. Not porno bombshell or Vegas stripper sexy. That's not my version of it. For me, sexy means fit, healthy, happy and confident. And I will be trying to keep it as real as I can on my journey there. It may not always go as planned. Things rarely do. But I am stubbornly committed to doing the best I can.

Great. Anything else to add?

Nope.

Nothing?

Fiiiiiine... Just to get it all out there...
I am also an obese woman working to save my marriage, while at the same time grieving for my mom/best friend who I lost on Mother's Day this year.
There.
I said it all.

Good.

I guess so.
I don't like pity parties. There is too much to be grateful for. And I am!
So let's just get this party started, shall we?!...