saturday morning i awoke to the sound of dripping water... and lots of it. a flurry of kitchen sink activity from the upstairs neighbors bubbled up through our sink due to a clog somewhere down the line. my guy and i are not early risers. our neighbors are. by the time we woke up, there was an inch of water covering the kitchen floor, and the counters were completely drenched.
needless to say it wasn't the best way to start the weekend. i admit that i was a little shellshocked from waking so abruptly. and from the aegean sea which manifested itself on my kitchen floor. but i was also undone by the size of the task at hand. call a plumber? call the landlord? turn the water off? where? for the building? talk to the neighbor? how do we even clean up this much water?? is this a hepatitis breeding ground??
fortunately, the overflow ceased shortly after our discovery. not only was there water EVERYWHERE, but since it was sink water, there were little bits of food and sink mung covering everything, too. SO FREAKING GROSS. i was paralyzed by the situation. i had all these questions and what-ifs crowding my mind. my guy only added to the swirling confusion in my head with his own questions, "should we go buy a mop? should we throw towels on this? does our lease cover this situation?" i was overwhelmed. the clean up task looked insurmountable.
i waded out of the kitchen and walked back to the office. i sat in front of the computer and just stared. my guy followed me in and asked what was going on. it was bad enough that the flood gates had released themselves in my kitchen, but now my internal river of emotions surged forth. i started whining about all my worries, all the questions that the kitchen situation brought forth. my voice sounded like a worried little kid as the concerns tumbled out of me. but here's the thing - as soon as they were out of me, as soon as i had released all the worry, i felt totally fine. describing the cloud of question and worry in my head seemed to deflate it. it dissipated and sanity started shining through.
i headed back to the kitchen to survey the situation. "you go get the mop. i'll stay here in case the sink starts overflowing again," i directed my guy. we took turns wading across the river to empty off the counter tops. we also cleared out the cupboard under the sink. once my guy left to find reinforcements, i tackled the standing water. i crafted a tool out of a 1 liter plastic bottle to help me bail the water out of the kitchen. it was slow going. scooping and dumping, scooping and dumping. as i sat there, in the middle of the drowned kitchen floor, something unexpected happened to me. i was overcome with peacefulness. i started thinking about how bailing out a flooded kitchen was an appropriate analogy to my weight loss journey. discovering the situation was just horrifying. in november of last year, when i finally hopped on the scale after so many years, i was dreading the little digital number. and yes, the reality was jarring. but once i committed myself to a newfound relationship with my body and weight loss, the situation didn't seem insurmountable. i recognized that there was a lot of hard, often 'yucky' work ahead of me, but it needed to happen. if for no other reason than for longevity of life and health reasons, it needed to happen. so here i am, in the midst of this weight loss journey, riding the highs and holding on through the lows. just bailing myself out. and for as much heartache as it can cause sometimes, i find that i am truly happy with the distance i've come thus far. i'm getting to know me. in the same way that i had to pull the fridge and the stove away from the wall to clean up the standing water (and the wet under-fridge-chud), i've had to pull metaphysical obstacles out of the path of my heart and mind. my first emotion this floody morning was shock, followed by dread. somewhere along the way i encountered grateful. i was actually grateful for an opportunity to so thoroughly clean my kitchen. i am grateful that i have an opportunity to clean out my body and mind.
by the time my guy got back with the mop, i not only scooped all the water off the kitchen floor, but i scrubbed down the bathroom, too... i was a woman on a mission! despite the day starting out in the shitter, it ended up quite nice.
it's nice to know that others are also appreciating similar journies, too.
my sister just left after a week of staying with me. we had a delightful time but after so many days in hostess mode, i'm spent! my whole life was on hold the entire time she was here and now it's time to get back on track.
i was anxiously awaiting her arrival. i always have a good time with my sister. ours is a tight bond, forged in poop jokes and silly repetitive word play and lots and lots of laughter. i planned a lot of activities for us and we had fun, but i couldn't help but feel pangs of something 'missing' for the entire duration of her stay.
yesterday, we woke before the crack of dawn and got her on her merry way back to school. once she was gone i was left to bob in the wake of an emotional sea churned up by her presence.
when i finally got home last night, i was struck by the onslaught of pensive thought that wedged itself between me and an early bedtime. i mulled over the slightly 'off' feeling that punctuated the visit with my sister. it wasn't negative or resentful - i didn't have a bad time with her. it was more... sadness... or grief... or perhaps just a somber flatness. i don't really know how to label this feeling... it was different... but not new, either.
this same feeling occurred the last time i went back to chicago for a quick visit. i was so excited to see my girlfriends, to spend an evening bearing witness to each other's stories, to reconnect, to just bask in the warmhearted goodness between good friends. the night fell short of my concocted fantasy even though it was full of goodwill and merriment, but it was definitely... different. there was a palpable change that had taken place between all of us and i wasn't prepared for it. the intimacy that comes with being in physical proximity was gone. the inside jokes and banter about the minutiae of jobs and partners and daily life was foreign to me. i had missed much being away for 7 months.
so when my sister's visit brought up the same feelings inside of me, i was thrown. i mean, this is MY SISTER. there is no changing here! this is sacred space. this is familiar space. this is the root of me. how can our relationship feel different?
at first i thought it might have been all on her. i mean she is in the midst of some major life changing stuff. she's graduating from her undergraduate studies in june and immediately shuffling off to grad school. she hasn't decided which offer to accept yet for her higher learning. she's preparing to sell her condo upon graduating this summer, move to a new city, start anew. i know the turmoil that all of these things can cause so my first instinct was to project my own troubled feelings onto her. maybe she did bring her baggage on vacation with her, but i know better than to pass the buck for my feelings. i'm feeling the way i am because something is going on inside of me... not because something may or may not be going on with my sis.
then i thought it might have to do with the living arrangements while she was here... in our small place...which is good enough for two but too small for three. i am a creature of habit. and boundaries. the environment in which i grew up knew no boundaries and many of my family members (e.g. my loveable sissy sister) still operate wtihout boundaries. maybe this was the cause of my discontent... my sister camped out on the couch, being ever present in my space. my lack of privacy, quiet time, me time. hmmm. no. this isn't it, either.
perhaps my lingering flatness was due to my tendancies to resort to old/unhealty patterns when i'm around my family? not only did i excuse myself from eating healthy, but i kind of went tits up in the other direction. we subsisted on a steady stream of cheesy poofs, peanut m&ms, and dining out while my sister was here. by the end of her visit, i had perpetual sour stomach and my sugar crash felt something akin to heroin withdrawl. my poor body was wrecked and crying out for leafy greens. i couldn't wait to get back to my routine, to the mandatory, plain fare of cottage cheese and carrot sticks. maybe the lost feeling could be attributed to my lack of willpower and my giving over to the dark side, having a food free-for-all for the past few days. this might be it, but still... just doesn't feel like the right answer.
one afternoon we wandered over to melrose ave where we toured a flea market and walked up and down the never-ending stretch of bohemian vendors and vintage clothing stores. the first time i visited los angeles was an exciting one. without ever having been, at some point in my life i developed a fairly negative bias towards the town. imagine my surprise to find that not only was my unwarranted opinion wrong, but i delighted in los angeles once i got a taste of it. i drank in the weather, the energetic buzz of the city, the amazing, kitschy shopping. in one weekend i fell in love with the artsyness, the hunger, the boldness of this town and just KNEW that i had to live here. that was four years ago. until my sis came for a visit, i hadn't really retraced the steps i took those short years ago. so when the opportunity arose, i was giddy with the prospect of revisiting melrose, wistfully remembering the treasures i found there, eager to show my sister how cool the area was. once we started walking around though, i was numb with the realization that none of it - not the colorful store fronts, not the wacky styles, not the incense-scented air - NONE OF IT was appealing to me anymore. we wandered into a hip little used clothes joint where so many years ago i found a veronique branquinho dress for less than $20, a loop guitar-shaped shoulder bag, and sparkly slippers - treasures of immeasurable happiness! instead of feeling the thrill of the hunt rush through me in undulating waves of exquisite shopping excitement, i felt grodytothemax as i dodged rows of used shoes and shimmied past size 00 club wear. i turned to my guy moments after walking in the door. "i think i've outgrown this place," i said with a twinge of sadness. he gave a slow, knowing nod while looking around the store, "yep. we really have. the thought of wearing any of this shit kind of gives me the creeps." i was crestfallen. crushed. instead of celebrating my adulthood, i grieved for lost adolescence. i padded back to the car feeling stunned. when did i get old? shit! is this midlife crisis?
surely this epiphany must be the source of my discontent? and yet... no.
then what is the cause of this weird, unsettled feeling? and what exactly is the feeling?
after having my space and routine back, and after kicking the question around for a day, i think i know what's going on. and it is new for me. it is different and foreign and therefore unsettling. i am coming into adulthood and i am coming into self. instead of seeking self definition from external stimulus that comes from a full social calendar full of dates with friends and family, i am now looking inward. i am looking inside myself to define myself. i am in process. i am feeling this adulthood/womanhood/self love thing out. i am trying it on, seeing how it fits. this phase i'm in is a new article of clothing - something i know i want, but that i've never seen before. i have an idea of how i'm supposed to wear it, but i'm still pulling it on over my head, figuring out where my arms can stretch through it, letting it settle naturally on my curves.
as i gaze inward, i see things coming into focus. i recognize that the past few months of engaging my body in a loving way is the result of quiet reflection and internal work. because i don't have all of the social dates and family gatherings and other 'stuff' that required my attention in chicago, i've been able to spend quality time with my self. alone time. belly time. this revelation frees me from feeling resentful towards los angeles and my temporary life here. this realization allows me to feel grateful for this time in my life. it eases the pain of missing my girlfriends and my family. i kind of feel like celebrating now! this IS an exciting time in my life. but it is quiet excitement, peaceful celebration. no fanfare necessary. just simple knowing feels good.
the visit with my sister helped me pull up and out and take a look from a different angle. thank you, sissy sister. thank you for holding a mirror up to me. i think i like what i see. it's definitely different, but it feels... right.
i just found out that my guy and i are headed back to our home town at the end of april for a grand celebration. my guy has numerous tracks included his buddy's indie movie. when we went to the premier out here in l.a., we were overcome with excitement. we watched the final edit in a real movie theater with 250 of the producer's friends and colleagues. we delighted with recognition every time one of my guy's songs faded in. we squirmed with glee when we watched the credits roll and my guy's name scrolled across the big screen. it was a surreal experience. it was a wonderful event. i was so proud and honored to be sitting next to this creative genius who received verbal accolades from the producer in front of the 248 strangers in the theater with us.
so after my guy told me the good news and we decided to go back home for the event, it started. this happens to me every.single.time i am confronted with an impending date of reuniting with old friends, going on a trip, any momentous occasion that will require me to be presentable. 'it' is the soundtrack from my youth, the voice that repeats over and over and over, the sickness that asks "how much weight can i lose before this event? if i starve and exercise every day could i lose 20 lbs in a week?" this tape used to drown out all rational thought - it was the soundtrack that beat with my pulse, that consumed my thoughts... this is the same voice that nearly caused me to miss the memorable experience of attending the premier of my guy's movie.
it was a wonderful woman, full of wisdom-by-the-hour, who helped me see how damaging and distorted this idea really was. the shrink is gone. the voice is back. granted, it's not as ridiculous and demanding as it once was. no, i am now able to understand just how fucked that way of thinking is. but the voice is back... only... different. as soon as i heard about a second movie screening in our home town, somewhere deep inside of me i sensed an old, familiar part press 'play'... this time, though, the voice is disguised as a seemingly rational thought:
"belly, you have two and a half months until the event. wouldn't it be wonderful to look great for it? two and a half months - if you really got with the program, you could lose at least 15 lbs in that time."
blech. when i logged my weight yesterday on the weight watchers site, i noticed that it has taken me two and a half months to lose 5.5 lbs. why do i think - wait - why would i want to sabotage myself by trying to adopt anything faster than my current pace? and FOR SOMEONE ELSE?? what about me? how did i happen to lose myself inside of a sentence??
what about me?
here i am. here i am reclaiming my new found relationship with my body. here i am denouncing the idea that i want to lose weight for anyone but myself. here i am picking myself back up off the chuckwagon from the past weekend, dusting off my knees and the cheez-it crumbs, and getting back on the path. here i am reminding myself that my body is sacred and beautiful exactly the way it is RIGHT NOW.
it's times like these, when i can hear the old, sick tapes playing, that i have to give pause to my life and reclaim it. i have to restate my purpose here. i need to remind myself that those old voices don't guide me. i will make peace with them. i forget to look for the beauty in these falling down places... for it is in these moments of weakness where my truth lies. it is in these moments of weakness that i am truly aware of my strength. i don't wallow in my broken places because i am strong enough to pull out. pull up. get back to center.
so here i am. here i am struggling to be tender with the old voices. struggling to let them know that it's ok now. i've got this one. i'll take it from here and i'm strong enough to do it. in the past two and a half months that i have been with weight watchers, i have been more successful in getting to know my body and adopting healthy habits for weight loss than ever before in my life. i like this pace i'm keeping. i like discovering my self. i am falling in love with my body.
in the coming months i will build success for myself through weekly goals. i will continue to post with regular frequency. i will be aware of my body and my food decisions. i will go back to my home town in a couple of months and i will revel in the celebration of my guy's creativity. i will cherish the time laughing and talking with friends and family. i will meet new people with open arms and a warm heart. and it won't matter a lick what i weigh.
today i am quiet. i am full of recent revelations and now i am mentally digesting.
The Healing Time
by Pesha Gertler
Finally on my way to yes
I bump into
all the places
where I said no
to my life
all the untended wounds
the red and purple scars
those hieroglyphs of pain
carved into my skin, my bones,
those coded messages
that send me down
the wrong street
again and again
where I find them
the old wounds
the old misdirections
and I lift them
one by one
close to my heart
and I say holy
holy.
great week. successful week. but before i get into the thick of it, a quick goal recap:
week 1 goal: document all of my food intake. goal met.
week 2 goal: stay within my weight watchers point range for the week
yikes! did i really just give myself that much hangin' rope for week 2's goal? i have to admit that as a weight watchers online subscriber for two and a half months, i have not had one week where i've come in under my weekly points. until now, i have lived in terror of this goal. mostly because a very large part of me isn't sure that i can do it, but there is also an equally fearful part that i will do it. for days i mulled over a good second week goal for myself - it has to be something tangible, within my grasp, but not too scary and hard that i'll land face first into a giant vat of chocolate chip cookie dough. staying within my point range seems like a natural progression from accurately journaling my food intake - but still, this idea strikes a really fearful chord in me.
in the past, i could sense the fear creeping in, gnawing at the periphery of my consciousness until i was so consumed with holding it at bay, whatever it really is, that i would lose control of my true voice... seemed like no one was running the show because my true self was lost in a cacophony of confusion and denial. i don't want to head in to my next goal with this much fearful chatter whispering in my ear.
"that's too hard. you'll never be able to stick with that plan."
"this plan doesn't afford you enough food or wine."
"you haven't managed this accomplishment in two and a half months, what makes you think you can do it now?"
"what if you get hungry? you can't tolerate hunger."
but my fear is sneaky - it's done a good job of creating chaos and confusion, all of which exists to mask a deeper knowing: i am not loveable and i don't deserve success.
every time i eat something that doesn't directly provide nourishment, every time i drink one more glass of wine, every time i decide to watch some stupid reality show in favor of going for a walk, every time i make a conscious decision to deny myself those things that are good for me, i prove that deep, pained part of myself right: i don't deserve success. i don't deserve a healthy body. i don't deserve to love myself.
recently, i've written a lot about accepting the small frustrations and discouragements of the day into my life. i've talked about making room for them, letting them have space, be heard. i've made room in my heart and acknowledged these daily worries and in doing so, i have given them the freedom to dissipate. "your job is done now, little worry, thanks for bringing it to my attention but i've got it covered - run along." this new revelation, though - this is a biggun'. and yet, as i write about this big, hairy, ugly underlying fear, i can feel it losing power, withdrawing, releasing it's grip on me. i am well enough to face it head on. i am strong enough to look it in the eyes and know it. if i can accept this part of me, this dark, painful part, then i can accept all of myself. i'm willing to do that. i want to be successful. i want to know the triumph that comes with hard work and dedication. if success feels anything at all like the relief and release that i'm tasting now in finding self acceptance, then i want more of it - a lot more of it!
slow and steady changes habits. i have to remember my intention for starting off with slow and easy goals: too much too soon is a known recipe for failure. but this new goal doesn't seem all that bad. when i stop and let the fear in, when i let it have a voice and acknowledge it, i realize that it is not the voice of my true self. the fearful voice is not the truest voice. it doesn't control me. i actually feel whole letting that fearful part up to the surface. i feel like i'm not denying, avoiding or ignoring me. i feel like i'm taking inventory of my inner workings and am getting to know exactly what's going on inside me. this is different. this feels like healing. this also feels a little like... success.
there are days when i feel so low and days when i feel so high... every now and again, there are those truly delightful days that just feel right, when the sun shines on my every step, a wry little smile plays at the corners of my lips and i'm filled with a sense that everything is right. today was one of those just right days.
i awoke to playful banter and soft morning laughs with my guy. later, my guy and i enjoyed a leisurely stroll, following adventure to new parts of our neighborhood, basking in the beautiful weather. we delighted in the happy waggle of our dog's tail, the back-and-forth swish swish swish indicating she, too, was feeling the good vibrations. the day agreed with all of us.
we invited new energy into our home by moving old boxes out of the entryway. we bopped around town, taking care of small errands, giggling with nostalgia at an unexpected good shuffle from the ipod. i woke from a nap to melodic stums drifting in from the living room where my guy worked out a new song on the guitar.
it was while we were driving that i glanced over at the man i love and who loves me, windows wide and lee majors crooning about being the unknown stuntman, that it occured to me: i am ok. things are good. life is full of beauty and bounty. i am ok. i could feel that feeling that comes with crying, that tightness in my chest, the lump forming in my throat, i could feel it surging into me, heading up through my lungs, shoulders, neck, working it's way to my tear ducts. and yet, no tears came. i am ok. i was so overwhelmed by the goodness of this day that i wanted to cry. instead, i just held fast to the feeling of serenity, of deeply calming peacefulness that this day had graced me with.
today i am full of light. i am full of joy. i am full of hope and awareness.
i am full.
...because after a FOUR pound weight gain this morning, i realize that somethin' ain't quite right here.
seriously. what the hell? four pounds, really? four?? FOUR???!!
i know what the hell... it was eating half a tray of chicken wings and a downing a couple of beers at 11pm last night. i knew that kind of splurging at that hour of the night could only mean doom and gloom on the scale this morning, yet i did it anyway! the four pound gain was disturbing but not unexpected... what was unexpected was the horrible stomach ache i woke up with, the all day bloat factor, and my jeans fitting SUUUUPER tight when i got home. the backlash from such a gluttonous evening was unbelievable.
and yet, i'm actually pleased that i didn't freak out this morning, enacting some crazy godzilla scene where my scale gets shattered under a crushing deathblow-stomp and the peaceful morning is pierced with my shrieking roars.
disappointed? yes - absolutely. but freaky? no.
i have a sneaking suspicion that i know exactly what's going on here. for weeks i've been working on the internal piece of my weight loss journey. i've been mired in my own thoughts, coming to terms with what's going on in my head and in my heart. but when it comes to my body? that's an entirely different story... and therein lies the problem. it's high time i quit frakking around with the weight watcher's plan and start following it the way it's supposed to be followed. it's time for me to get serious about consistent exercise. it's time for my body and mind to work together for the greater good.
i have a plan for myself: i'm going to pick one goal i aim for per week, something i can do for myself every day for one whole week. if i can succeed (or even if i can't) i'll select a new goal for myself the following week and just keep building on my previous weeks' successes. i realize that i work well within the architecture of routine so i will build structure for myself, a sturdy foundation built on weekly accomplishments, a system in which i can thrive. i will be careful not to overwhelm myself with grandiose, complicated goals, too, because i don't want to sabotage my plan. i know myself well enough to know that i'm not good with change, so i'll take this slow - not as slow as i have been taking it, but slow enough to allow change into my life in a steady, accumulating way.
the goal for this week: get back to writing down EVERY SINGLE THING I EAT. and if i can stay within my daily points, that would be great, too... but for this week, the primary goal is going to be maintaining my food journal. by doing this, i envision myself planning meals again, grocery shopping for healthy choices in anticipation of being hungry during the day or at night, making time for exercise and making exercise a priority. if these things manifest as a result of me maintaining my food log, great! wonderful! but if not, that's ok, too.
i gotta admit, i'm scared. i'm scared of creating a plan because that means i am accountable to something. i'm scared i'll succumb to failure. but equally intimidating is the prospect of success...
so where does this kind of fear leave me? right where i am: nowhere. and this is not the right place for me. so i'm going to trust my mind to lead my body and my body to support my mind... strong heart. strong mind. strong body.
what a wonderful weekend it's been. yesterday was full of small errands done at an easy-going pace, errands that need to be done with some consistency if my home is to retain it's comfortable, home-like appeal. i had plenty of time to frolic in the lazy hours of a free saturday. today is a perfect sunday. i awoke from beneath a plush, down duvet after hearing soft rain drops playing at the window. i have had the luxury of spending quiet time perusing blogs and thinking big thoughts while my guy peacefully snoozes in the other room.
all is right with the world.
i attribute this moment of serenity to the slow, steady clear-cutting project i've undertaken in my own life. recently, i read an interesting bit about the direct relationship between depression and clutter. the idea that those who have order and cleanliness in their homes are more likely to be content and happy individuals resonated with me. and so, for the past few weeks, i've taken this idea to heart, and have been taking inventory of all the unnecessary 'stuff' that clutters my home. i've been throwing away and getting rid of clothes, furniture, knick-knacky-tacky pieces of decor that have been collecting dust and taking up space in my home. it feels good to bring order in. i allow calmness in as i winnow my underwear drawer down to only those unmentionables that fit, bras that are not suffering injurious calamity to the elastic, tights and nylons that aren't pock-marked with runs and futile nail polish remedy. i like that i don't have to jimmy my bureau drawers closed because they are stuffed to the brim. i imbue my closet with a sense of freedom when i rid it of items that haven't seen the light of day in years. yes, it is hard for me to part with these things. but the sense of freedom that comes in releasing these unneeded items far outweighs any feeling of loss.
in taking inventory and cleaning out, i am making space for newness. i am inviting 'other' in where previously there was no room in my home. in the same respect, i am working towards opening up myself to a healthy relationship with food. i am striving towards awareness, awareness about what i put in my mouth, awareness of how i feel (or the absence of feeling) when i eat, awareness of how much i eat. i firmly believe that it is only after i let my food issues in, hold them firmly to my breast, know them and love them as a mother loves a child, only then can i release those issues.
for now i will celebrate my journey to health and where it has taken me thus far. i honor the peacefulness that i have found this morning, and i open myself up to what lies ahead.
The Guest Houseby Rumi This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
i like to think of my drive home from work as an accurate reflection of the state of affairs in my head. sometimes i get caught at every single god forsaken light on the way home and sometimes i barely have to touch the brake. the past week i zipped right home, miraculously breezing through every single green light. today, however, i was not so lucky. i swear i stopped at every single friggin' red light, got stuck behind some mini-van-jalopy doing 10 miles under the speed limit, and got jammed up by buses and fed ex trucks in the parking lane (in l.a. there's an anti-gridlock initiative which forbids parking in the parking lane during rush hour... most of the time these lanes are a clear shot, but occasionally, some jack-ass gums up the works).
to keep my road rage in check, i've learned to accept excessive red lights as a little message from the universe telling me to slow it down and check myself. as pollyanna as this idea sounds, it actually works for me. i had kind of a crap day... woke up late, necklace broke getting out of my car, i ate a 20 point lunch and just didn't give a shit, got stuck at nearly ALL the lights on the way home.
i can feel the numbness creeping in at my edges since being home. so instead of succumbing to an evening of overeating and guilt, i'm going to chiggity-check myself before i wriggity-wreck myself. i invite the small frustrations of the day in, but i will not let them overwhelm me.
today i am grateful for...
...my guy returning safely from a business trip
...busting out an unplanned, cute outfit for work even though i woke up late
...thomas' whole wheat english muffins
...a stellar 90 day new employee review w/ my boss
...the ability to recognize when i'm numbing myself and the grace and willingness to pull myself out of it
...my cutie pie pupperoni who always welcomes me home with doggie exhuberance
...tivo + american idol = 20 min of funny auditions instead of an hour of ryan seacrest filler
this weekend i found my old tongue post and was tickled by the idea that my tongue piercing might still be open. i remember the piercing technician telling me that if i didn't wear the post at all times, it would close up very quickly. when i finally got a 'real' job a few years later, i was reluctant to remove the piercing so i bought increasingly smaller gauges and shorter posts so as to conceal my rebellion from my corporate gig. this was also about the same time that the spice girls exploded onto the scene and scary spice was titillating pubescent girls and 'cool' parents with her flashy new tongue jewelry. lame. i remember feeling so unique because i was still rocking a tongue ring, which was actually an eyebrow post - so it was waaay more discreet, and therefore, still cool. i was foolin' no one but myself...
so when i found the tongue post, nostalgia and curiosity got the better of me and i had to see if my piercing was still open. i was delighted to find that it hadn't closed up - well, maybe it closed up a little, but with a little force, i was able to jam the damn thing through my tongue. i wore it all night, enjoying the click-click-click against my teeth, checking my mouth out in every mirror i passed. but when i woke up the next morning, i became acutely aware of a dull throb in my tongue. the novelty had completely worn off and i was left with an irritating piece of metal in my mouth which i just wanted out. after pulling, prodding and tugging, i finally freed myself from the whimsical memento of my youth.
and yet, as sucky as it was to wake with that obtrusive tongue post stuck in my mouth, i feel conflicted about permanently letting go of this token of my young adulthood. i felt pangs of child-like defiance surface when i dared to think, "shit. this is not for me anymore." the twenty-something girl in me absolutely did not want to cede her grip on the reigns.
i realize that that part of me from the past no longer fits the current me. but it's tough for me to let go of the girl i used to be. i still find myself clinging to mementos of my college years, cherishing 'friends' from that era who add nothing to my life today, desperately holding onto my pierced tongue. becoming aware of these feeling, recognizing this pattern now feels as constricting as wearing a pair of shoes that are two sizes too small. why would i want to do that?
why try to fit my current life into the shape of my past? i'm so much wiser now. i'm happy with who i am today. i've worked hard to create a deeply satisfying life for myself and to appreciate the process and the journey of how i got to be where i am now. i've made peace and am still making peace with my self, my body. i have come so far from the days of that rebellious, tongue-pierced girl. yet, until now, i couldn't seem to let her go.
as i reflect on the past weekend, i realize that i don't want to be that girl anymore. i want to be who i am today. i want to fully embrace the woman i am right now. i will not forget your rebellious spirit, punk rock girl. i won't forget how cool, unique, and brave you were. i'll hold onto the courage you exhibited while trying to figure out those tumultuous college years. i honor our past because that's where you, my inner punk rock girl, created the building blocks of who i am today.
it feels a little uncomfortable settling into that thought, to let myself be an adult, to fully embody the idea. it's scary. to accept adulthood is to accept responsibility, accountability. and yet, if i hold up a mirror, the person looking back is certainly no girl. no, the reflection i see belongs to a beautiful thirty-something woman, a woman who's eyes shine not with the brightness and naivety of youth, but with the knowing sparkle of wisdom, of experience, of adulthood.
i'm going to keep that old tongue ring. i'll save it in the bottom of my jewelry box. i might come across it in another couple of years, but perhaps then, i won't feel the need to make it fit where it no longer belongs. i like the idea of accepting who i am today. it feels like relief. it feels empowering. i am an adult. i am responsible for my health. i am capable of taking care of and nurturing my body. i am accountable for my weight and i accept the responsibility to change it.
that delicious d-day is, of course, the weigh-in day... and i am sweatin' the load like crazy... why? because i'm starting to fall off the bandwagon and back on to the chuckwagon... my weigh-in last week was another nail-biter. i had talked myself into delaying the weigh-in by just one more day so i could get a really good day of eating healthy and exercise in, hoping that that one day would make up for a week's worth of half-assed healthy eating. much to my surprise, i overcame my fear of the scale and was delighted to find that 1. i had the courage to go through with the regularly scheduled weigh-in and 2. i was only up by half a pound.
there are a couple of things wrong here:
1. happy about being up by any amount is sick sick sick. seriously? the crazy shit i can talk myself into sometimes...
2. i have been playing fast and loose with the plan and have denied the inevitable repercussions of neglecting said plan.
3. trying to talk myself into delaying the weigh-in is the same kind of dangerous thought that will lead me down the road to perdition... i've spent years talking myself out of control with food and into denial about my true pant size.
4. the lion's share of two bottles of wine on a 'school' night is surely NOT part of the plan no matter how i try to fudge the ww points math. holy hell. what's happening to me??
5. i fear the scale, yet i am obsessed with the scale.
so here's how i'm going to right the wrongs:
1. be mindful of the goal at all times. what's the goal? LOSE weight... no more delusions of happiness because i narrowly escaped a huge increase by sustaining a small increase.
2. weigh-in day is hard and fast.
3. be mindful of the unhelpful talk that goes on in my head. eating healthy, exercise, being accountable, being AWARE - these are all qualities that will help me with the goal. when i catch myself trying to talk myself into one more glass of wine or food that i know ain't ww worthy, i will remember the goal. i will allow the negative thoughts in and let them exist, but i will not let them control my actions. (this one is going to be the hardest part, but i know i can do this.)
4. chill out with the cocktails. this one is also going to be difficult because i love me some wine. i love my down time, snuggling with my guy and/or the pets, and a nice glass of white in beautiful stemware. it feels decadent, luxurious - and i feel like i deserve the finer things. well, i also deserve to be healthy and to move with the grace and ease of a body unencumbered by XXL pounds.
5. the scale will not rule my life. i will stick to weighing in once a week on my designated day and not 15 times every day.
and above all, i will be gentle with myself as i move forward in this process. i am changing my lifestyle slowly, but surely. i have stuck with this plan for 8 weeks and have sustained a net loss of 5 pounds. these are huge accomplishments.
saturday morning i awoke to the sound of dripping water... and lots of it. a flurry of kitchen sink activity from the upstairs neighbors bubbled up through our sink due to a clog somewhere down the line. my guy and i are not early risers. our neighbors are. by the time we woke up, there was an inch of water covering the kitchen floor, and the counters were completely drenched.
