Showing posts with label fat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fat. Show all posts

Mar 25, 2008

Without My Eyes

More outdoor kitty pictures

Checking out the world from under the BBQ

Max is small, Pippa is smallest.


Yesterday turned out to be a stellar day. Other than my back hurting. Max played with the kids across the street, OUTSIDE. Chick got to romp around with their gorgeous pit bull named Pepper. And I got to hang out with their parents who are our only immediate neighbors that we have anything in common with. In fact, we really like them and have been wanting to have them over and then get all weirdly shy. So stupid of us! They are one of the other few nonreligious families in town.

That was really great. Then we went to Dundee with my friend Nicole to pick more nettles, hunt down poisonous plants as well as edible wild vegetation (such as the Indian Plum leaves which taste like cucumber- WHICH MAX TASTED AND LIKED!!!!!) and it turned out to be one of the most wonderful woodsy experiences. Of course Max had his spy and warrior equipment like his enormous bright plastic nerf gun. And of course he didn't want to come in the first place. But he ended up being our path leader and it was one of those great unexpected moments in life with kid that has the low potential to turn out well, but does, just to spite my expectations. I would go on such walks with Max all the time if I could budge him more often from his comfortable well worn spot in front of the play station.

For a lot of parents it boils down to insistence and power-housing their kids to do what they want them to do. Or they just have great easy going kids who go along with any plans on offer and if you have such a kid- keep your mouth glued shut please. I choose not to live with constant royal battles because Max is a master at giving them without my precipitating my own all the time.

Part of what made it fun for him was that we took some samples of the interesting plants we were finding. Nothing major, so no conservationists need be alarmed, just a wild strawberry leaf, the leaf of a baneberry plant, and some balm of Gilead (the resinous buds discarded by the Poplar trees in the park that smell wonderful).

Philip processed the nettles I brought home so none of them would go to waste this time. After the walk in the woods I really had to rest and heat my back. So I watched North And South (again) while sorting through tax papers and then looking through my rose encyclopedia. I can't wait to be surrounded by roses of my choice. I got the roses from my Pickering order and since I can't plant them yet in their real spots I need to get them into some sandy soil just to keep them healthy until I can get them into more permanent places. They're bare roots. I'm so excited about all the roses I have now. I've always wanted to get some moss roses and I ordered two of them.

I'd love to have taken pictures of our nature walk and of my nettles. But with a broken camera I am a blind writer. That's another thing I absolutely adore about blogs- we can all show each other what we're up to all the time which is like having a real visit with each other.

I love literature which has relied on words instead of pictures to show and tell for as long as humans have been writing. I have a deep respect for story telling without pictures. But that doesn't mean that I think blogs are an inferior trashy cousin to fine literature. I have read some amazing writing on blogs with pictures. The writing becomes more personal and poignant at times with the aid of pictures. The journey is different but not lesser. I have read some posts on blogs that could stand up to the test of time in a book, that could rival the finest authors out there, and have reverberated in my head and heart with the same potency as J.D. Salinger's work.

I must solve this camera issue soon.

On the homestead front, I want to say that now is a great time to be checking on your perennial herbs, if you have any, to see what kind of growth they're putting on. Especially if you live in a fairly mild climate. Early spring is when the sap of nature starts to flow. In the milder winter areas your herbs should be starting to put on new growth which means that it will be time to trim them and dry what you trim. I have just trimmed my marjoram which survived the winter (it doesn't always, here) and put on some fresh growth. I also trimmed my thyme and chives. Though I must say I don't think the flavor of chives is preserved well by drying, so I won't do that again.

You can usually get two solid harvests from your perennial herbs: spring and fall. You always want to trim them before they flower. I can usually keep myself in home grown dried thyme, oregano, and marjoram by harvesting twice a year. I use a lot of these herbs. More than any other (besides salt and pepper). If your plants don't yet have enough new growth for a harvest, just be sure to keep your eye on them over the course of the next three weeks.

Today is all about tax preparation. I am totally stressed out about it because I didn't take a final inventory before closing the store. ACK. Luckily I diligently recorded our sales in a book so I won't have to go through five thousand individual receipts to figure out what the store made while it was open. At least I did something right there.

I am having fun figuring out what souvenirs I might bring back from Scotland which is my favorite place in the world besides Oregon. I try to be careful about how much shopping I do when abroad. I often end up buying really useful things like sweaters and cookbooks or wool socks. Things I can really use when I come home too. I was thinking this time I might go to some thrift stores in Glasgow and find a few pieces of china. You probably know that I lost a good percentage of my great grandmother's china in our attic fire. We salvaged what we could. I decided it was a perfect opportunity to create a mismatched set. I love china and I love the enormous varieties of it that you can find out in the world. I thought it would make a great souvenir item that would also be useful.

Other things I was thinking about- whiskey for Philip, a glass or two for Max (he likes having his very own things), maybe a cookbook. Although a cook book would be very funny since Scotland is all about fish and meat and isn't exactly the vegetarian capital of the world. Their idea of a vegetarian soup sometimes includes chicken. !?. It must be noted, though, that the secret of eating well in Scotland (if you're me) is to eat a hell of a lot of potatoes and pub soups. Provided you specify that you don't eat fish or birds, often there really is a superb meatless soup on offer and some of the finest I've had were in pubs. I've actually had better soups in Scotland and in Paris than anywhere else I've been.

I don't actually think Americans are the best soup makers in the world.

Well, I am, but that's just another one of those things I try not to talk about too often so as not to make the rest of you feel self conscious.

Just to take my pride down a notch...I have to say that I am feeling very uncomfortable with my body right now. I mean, I have been for the last couple of years, but I'm going to my dad's wedding there with my sister and (hopefully) my brother, and it will be all these non-fat people and my brother and dad haven't seen me in two years and don't know what an enormous tub of a person I have become. I'm already embarrassed enough thinking about what my sister must think of me in my present state, but at least she won't be shocked. I know they all love me anyway. I do. I really do know that. And I've been working on losing weight (I've lost nine pounds so far) but there's no way I'll be able to lose a significant amount by May so I have to go in mostly the shape I'm in.

If I'm diligent I can probably lose another ten pounds. But even so...jesus! I don't know how to look nice as I am. You know what's even worse than caring what my family thinks of my size? Worrying about what Scotland will think of my size. Yes, the country. The land. The air. The first time I set foot on Scottish soil I knew I had come home. The air, the mountains, the slate, and the soil all embraced me. It was love. Not just me loving it, but I felt loved in return. Now I worry that it will reject me.

Yeah. A whole country.

You thought it was just houses I was nutty about.

Anyway. I will do what I can but it's really only five weeks away. How will I impress my family and my spiritual homeland if I come as I am? Will a snazzy haircut and make-up do the trick? What style of clothes should I wear? What style of clothes will be most flattering on a body like mine? There is the whole garden lady linen look with big earrings and great hats to make up for loose flowing linen clothes. Las Manos style, for those of you who have spent time in Marin or Sonoma. Earthy lady clothes. But would dressing like that make me look like an old lady?

Or should I wear all black with form fitting styles that pretend I don't have a large stomach roll?
I won't have time to sew things for myself so I am also at the mercy of large lady fashions I can find around here. VERY LIMITING.

It's a nasty dilemma. I wouldn't even air that here because I've been trying not to mention my body issues here as much. I created a special place for talk about that journey with some friends. But it's really really worrying me. Maybe even more than taxes are. I want to be stylish and pretty for my dad's wedding and for hanging out with my stylish wonderful siblings.

The day I got my passport picture taken a young (large like me) goth girl blurted out that I was very pretty. It totally took me by surprise. I have to say it really was nice to hear from a total stranger.

I am not looking for compliments from you, by the way. I want solutions. What to do? ACK!

Well, it's time to go through nasty paperwork. It's time to drink more coffee and attend to the request from Max that I spend some time drawing with him. Something he almost never wants to do with me. (Can't miss such a golden opportunity!) I hope you all have a good and peaceful Tuesday. I hope you all have already put your tax crap behind you.

May 27, 2007

Tell me when I stop falling
(Sincere Apologies to my mother and Angeleen.)


I have just finished sewing a cobbler apron for myself. That's not entirely true, I finished everything but the pockets because by then I had tried it on three times and each time I saw myself in it my heart beat just a little faster and my blood pressure was either rising or dropping, I'm not actually sure, but it feels lighter in my head right now. And not because I've junked all the crap that hangs out in there. I didn't finish the pockets because, well, why bother? I sure as hell am not going to get caught dead wearing that garment. Another five hours of my time completely wasted in the effort to spruce myself up.

An effort that has been making me feel increasingly worse about myself. I can't do it anymore. I can't dress the part of my own store because I don't FUCKING FIT IN A GOD DAMNED THING. Oh, and it isn't just a question of how I look in them, because how vain would that be? Anyone who's been seriously overweight knows what I mean when I say that nothing feels right. Nothing is comfortable.

I don't know how to come back down this road. The one that got me in this awful physical place. My doctor would like me to return to therapy, and I want to. I do. I need to, because right now I have no retreat. Every effort I make to help myself feel better about how I look endlessly rebounds on me, makes me want more beer, more cookies, more cheese, more potatoes. Which makes me fatter. And fatter.

Oh my god. This path is going to turn me into a six hundred pound woman unable to get through her own front door.

You know, when I weighed 155 pounds and was trying to get used to the fact that that was twenty pounds more than I was used to carrying around on my body, I didn't know I could feel this much worse about myself. Back then I just made myself new clothes and because my body was still an average size, I was able to change my clothes and that was it. I felt so much better. I didn't know a person could hate their own body as much as I do right now. I don't even have the words to tell you how much I hate it because the words are so ugly I almost made myself retch just thinking them in my own head.

It isn't that being heavy is so unattractive, because I don't actually see it that way. I see other women who have the same body that I do and none of the same thoughts come to me. I only see all the things that make them attractive. Except for in myself.

It's impossible for me to love my own body when it has so deeply disappointed me. It let me down first by breaking in a stupid fluke of a fall that shouldn't have even bruised anything, let alone fractured my hip socket in five places. It's been down hill ever since. Now it disappoints me every time I try to rectify the damage I did to my body while lying around in bed unable to walk. All that cheese. All that beer. All that sugar. I try to get back into the exercise routines and my body fails me. My joints hurt. My back goes out. My feet hurt.

I am so angry at myself for having let things get this far that I just want to punish myself. So instead of treating my body like some kind of fruity temple, I just keep trashing it. But now it's totally out of control. I can't seem to get the reins back into my hands. It's like the Devil is driving this truck of a body and all I can do is watch this long slow motion wreck careen itself off of a cliff.

How much farther do I need to fall before I hit the bottom of this personal quarry?

I am supposed to be dressing the part of my June Cleaver dream. But I can't. I just bought more fabric and patterns yesterday to sew some new clothes, so that I will look cuter. More vintage or retro inspired. I was depressed choosing my patterns because I knew what waited for me on the other end of the project: disappointment. But I went ahead and started with a cobbler apron in hopes that it would be more comfortable and attractive on me than the cocktail aprons that either have to be tied just under my boobs or completely underneath my belly because they won't stay tied where they should be tied around my "waist".

I just can't do it. It's killing me inside. I need to wear black, I need to wear indistinct clothing that I couldn't care a rat's ass about because if I try to go ahead and wear the kind of clothes I actually like then I will constantly be reminded of my disappointment, my anger, and my shame that I used to actually look good in these same styles.

I was a plus size twenty pounds ago. I was a plus size forty pounds ago. So it's not like I'm a size 8 person freaking out because I'm almost a size 10. Throughout my life people have always been surprised to find out what size I am; no matter what size I am people always think I couldn't possibly be that size. The reason for this interesting phenomenon is (in my opinion) that I don't dress in things I know I can't pull off at whatever size I am. Style is something I have been avidly interested in for my whole life. The fit of clothes, how they look best on people is something I know a lot about. As subject to personal taste as style is, there are general rules to follow if you want to look nice and I know what they are.

There are only two things I can pull off right now and neither of them look cute, stylish, cool, retro, or remotely memorable.

I'm not saying this to be mean to myself. This is just the way it is. Anything else would just be an attempt to massage a very bruised ego. This is useless because inevitably I run into a reflective window or a mirror and it speaks very plainly.

Measurements don't lie.

I suppose it would shock everyone to know that the life I'm leading is quite unhealthy for me. It's much to busy. Much too stressful. I have an entrepreneurial spirit but a rather unstable nervous system, the two do not coexist easily. I've worked so hard to build what I'm building and it has reminded me of how much better my life was as a housewife/stay at home mom. My kid has suffered. My spouse has suffered. And I am suffering from the constant attention our business requires. Attention that is taken away from our home, our quality of life, and our well being.

Having a store is not the reason I'm fat. It's just the reason I feel incapable of doing anything about it. I have no time to plan for exercise, to have quiet reflective moments in which to calm my nerves, to bake bread, to fold my laundry, and to cook nutritious food. The best years of my entire life (so far) were the ones I spent staying home. I never once felt trapped by staying home. I didn't have time. I was just as busy as I am now, it's just that all my busyness added so much to our quality of life. I got a sense of deep satisfaction from it.

Unfortunately I can't stop what I'm doing because it's not as though there's any other income options on the horizon. We can't pay the bills on nothing. We already know that.

I will go make a couple of head scarves and I promise to wear them every day to work. I will keep on wearing make up and trying to look nice for my store. But I am not going to keep trying to figure out a way to wear stylish clothes a la June Cleaver, because I am now deeply depressed over it and I don't think digging myself a deeper hole is a good idea.

I'm so sorry mom and Angeleen.

Feb 5, 2007

Aint no one here but us chickens. (And fat-asses.)


A typical Monday morning involves me lolly gagging around on the computer, looking at posts on other people's blogs, writing new posts for my own, and avoiding whatever it is I'm really supposed to be doing. Which is a lot if anyone recalls the big list of last month. Not too much has been marked off of that list. But unsurprisingly, I have made many new lists since.

I interrupt this broadcast to announce that someone is laying an egg right now, at this second. Someone else is making a lot of noise about it. For just a brief half second I wondered if any neighbors are sitting in their living rooms fantasizing about killing off my hens. Mostly I don't care because they don't make too much noise most of the time and they are completely LEGAL. Plus they will be our only source of protein once we have no money left to buy food*.

Which we'd have a better chance at buying down the road if we weren't so busy spending it all on beer right now.

My friend Lisa Dundee(not her real last name) told me about a great blog called "Crazy Aunt Purl". I've really been enjoying it, especially the whole bit about her making healthier choices for herself here and there, making small changes in the food she eats and the exercise she gets. Her plan is to never diet again. Which is brilliant. Her plan means she may never be really thin again but at least she'll be making healthier choices for herself than before. Which is what's more important anyway, right? I have felt really inspired by her.

Until five pm every single evening, which is Max's witching hour. The hours between five and eight (Max's bed time) are prime drinking hours because he's really cranky most of that time. Beer finesses the great battle that is otherwise known as BEDTIME. All day I tell myself I will go home and make a nice hot cup of relaxing tea and ride the waves of six year old angst out. Then I will wisely prepare to go to bed early myself, because everyone knows that sleep is the axis upon which all good health rests.

I get home and the pressure is too great. Tea seems like a pretty weak defense against the negative tirade that awaits me. You'd think that at least I could follow through on the early bed time thing. But I can't. It always sounds so good at ten in the morning. More sleep sounds so good at four pm. But at eight thirty pm, when the kid is finally in bed, (even if he is calling to us mercilessly for various things such as ice water, some obscure stuffed animal I didn't know existed, or the cat), I just can't get in bed. I must stay up like a proper adult. And unwind. With beer. Which also means I'll have to eat something I don't really need to eat. Truth be told, I probably don't "need" to eat again for about a month.

So I wake up every morning wondering how it is that my good resolve vanished and left me at the mercy of habit, once again. All the while I am beginning to panic inside every time I have to get dressed or undressed. Lots of people seek God for help in these things. I have certainly appealed to my own version of God to help me find that stubborn will of iron that plagued my parents for seventeen years, but if the Universe heard, it must have figured it was an appeal not worth responding to. I may have better luck appealing to Max's idea of God, which is a very very fat man wearing a brown suit. But if God really is "very very fat" then he doesn't have any more self control than I do, so how will he be able to help?

Not being religious, I keep appealing to myself instead. To my vanity (which is supposed to be such a great motivator). To my desire to be healthier and to not be so literally weighed down. Nothing has been able to shake my desire to remain in my comfortable routine. This allows me to be happy from five pm until I go to bed, but forces me into a blue study from the time I wake up until five pm.

Some thing's got to give. I've been edging towards change cautiously. If I promise anything I will only disappoint myself and others. But if I don't keep trying, I will eventually wake up and be six hundred pounds and unable to ever get up again. I am an eternal optimistic pessimist. I never give up hope, but I always keep expectations grounded. Sometimes six feet under. I know it seems impossible...but lots of things, like the fact that President Bush still hasn't been impeached, seem impossible, and yet they are true.

So, being inspired by Crazy Aunt Purl's no diet plan, (which is essentially what my mother has been doing too and has already lost thirty pounds!) in which she slowly and quietly begins to make some better choices for herself, which if they don't actually result in a lot of weight loss, will at least help her to feel better about herself, I have devised a new idiotic plan.

I've come up with ten things I should be doing every single day to be healthy. I do almost none of them on any given day. I figure that if I can at least check seven things off of that list a day I will not be able to help but get healthier, even if I don't get thinner. I could live with that. I certainly wouldn't get FATTER. People are always talking about giving one's self lots of incentive to reach goals. I have never been good at this because I always just go ahead and buy the shoes I want because the whole reason I have trouble with my weight is that I HAVE VERY LITTLE SELF CONTROL. But what the heck. I figure that any day on which I check off at least seven things on my list, I can earn $10.00. Think about what that could mean if I even managed to pay myself $10.00 every other day for a year: $1825.00

The funny thing is that if I really fell for this whole incentive thing, I can't actually afford to pay myself this amazing incentive money. I figure it doesn't matter though because the chances of that happening are the same as the chance of me seeing the Virgin Mary's face on the shell of one of my hen's eggs. Whatever. I amuse myself at any rate.

What I always want to know is where other people find their own strengths. And please don't tell me: in the pages of the bible. Or: by looking up to "HIM". C'mon, beyond that, how do you tap into the well of personal strength and determination that it takes to change really old unhealthy habits? I don't actually think it's possible for anyone to answer this question for anyone else. I already know the answer. I just feel locked out of my own stores of discipline. It was heartening that my mom gave me a reading from her cards (similar to tarot) that said I have the strength to do what I need to do.

People are always saying things like "when you want it bad enough you'll change" or "when you hate your body enough you'll motivate yourself" and most helpfully of all "when you get off your fat ass and exercise and stop stuffing twinkies, you'll lose weight!"

For the record: I do not eat twinkies. Ever.

Today I weigh 211 pounds. I told you I was a porker! (I could have been really coy and kept that to myself, but what's the point?) My goal is to not gain another pound in my entire life.

So here goes...

Daily checklist: (checking off 7= $10.00)

  • Cardio, 20 min. or more

  • Drink six or more glasses water

  • Use only 31 WW points in a day

  • Do 32 lunges or do weights

  • Stretch

  • 3 or less alcoholic beverages

  • Take vitamins

  • Don’t eat after 7pm

  • Get to bed by ten pm

  • Eat no deserts or pastries