~day 11~ Comfortable

I am 33 years old.  Almost 33 1/2.  I lost 21 pounds so far this year, which puts me a bit under 200.  At 5'2" that's not a healthy BMI.  I have dated 4 men in significant, long-term committed relationships since I was 15.  They weren't necessarily the "best" choice for me, but that's what hindsight gives you.  I was almost scary thin for the first two and had rounded out just a little for the 3rd.  Then I went almost 3 years being single and put on not just a Freshman 15, but a Freshman 40.  That's right, 40 pounds first semester of my freshman year.  Which I never lost. And that was 20-30 pounds ago.  But after putting on that weight I met a guy and we dated and we ended up being together for 2 1/2 years.  He never had much of any problem with my weight.  (There are things that can be said and stories that can be told, but ultimately he was never mean or cruel about it).

I have always been the one with the problem about my weight.  I have been told that I have very nice characteristics and features and at least a couple of very nice "parts" that can attract the right kind of man.  So it is odd to me that I still think of myself as too fat to be attractive.  That I still worry that if or when a man asks me out that I will worry it is some sort of dare and I will end up humiliated.  Because the thing is, I really am pretty comfortable in my skin.  I love my backside, I love my hair, my eyes are beautiful and I have a fantastic mouth.  I have strong and shapely legs.  And, none of that accounts for my personality or character.  I am just recently coming around to agreeing with my friends that i am kind of a catch.  (Don't get me wrong, I got all kinds of crazy going on over here, but a few of you have assured me that we're all a bit crazy and I'm not *that* far off the reservation).

The weird thing is, when I'm alone, I'm very comfortable in my skin.  I am reasonably sure that once I am in a significant, committed relationship I will be even more comfortable in my skin and even become quite confident in my self.  So, it's funny to me to recognize that I am 33 and just now finally getting comfortable in my temple I inhabit.  To truly acknowledge that the only "part" of my body I don't like is my santa belly.  And even that I can reason will make a great pillow for movie watching for the right man some day. (think Aaron Rodgers likes movies??)

So, today, hope is being comfortable in my skin.  Hope is adoring the sound of my high heels click clacking around my world.  Hope is focusing on my beautiful eyes in the mirror and not the bags underneath.  Hope is appreciating my very sexy legs that work so very hard to hold me up and keep me moving.  Hope is acknowledging that it truly takes all kinds and there is a lid for every pot.

disillusionment

A couple of weekends ago I had what I would have previously described as The Perfect Weekend.

Plans with some girlfriends on Friday immed after work.
No plans at all Saturday.
Intended church on Sunday and possibly see the family.

Little to nothing. Adhering quite nicely to my weekend motto

Do as little as possible,
for as long as possible.

I am now disillusioned.

I went out with the girls on friday. And we had fun. But I was so stinkin tired from not sleeping well all week (see any previous posts re ongoing issues with insomnia & simple lack of discipline to get to bed at anything close to a reasonable time), that we all ended up leaving around 10:30! Which was kind of fine, cause I went home and watched an episode of two of Bones. Which I had just recently purchased 2 seasons for only $35 at the local mart. Yay for cheap tv dvds!!!

Saturday I slept til my usual time and made chocolate truffle coffee when I got up. Sipped on that, checked into my Restaurant on facebook. And settled in to watch .... a few more episodes of Bones. I refilled my coffee a few times, had a snack or two, pottied a few times, and effectively did not surface for air until about 6 pm.

I showered, threw on some clean(er) lounging clothes, and headed across the hall to the neighbors with baked chicken in hand to hang out with them. Watched an olderish B-rated movie and a couple episodes of Will & Grace. My other new addiction. Came home at a decent-ish time and I think I finished out season 1 of Bones. Went to bed probably in the midnight to 1:00 am range.

Decided when I did finally get to bed that I was not, in fact, going to make it to church. Justifying to myself that my rest and being a semi-sane individual during my 40 hour work week is clearly more important than all the intangible benefits I refuse to list out, because I refuse to see them, I would get from attending my church.

What did I do instead you ask?

I'll let you guess.

Go ahead, guess.

Yep, more Bones. Started Season 2.

And for the life of me, I can't remember anything at all from the whole of that day. I can't recall if I visited my neighbors. I can't recall if I visited my parents. I can't recall if I ate! Although I assume I did the last one.

Before that weekend, I would have described that as The Perfect Weekend. Or nearly so. Possibly with the parents thrown in for Sunday night supper. And the benefits of church, especially if I could achieve those without the early rising time required.

I repeat,
I am now disillusioned.

I was so lonely and depressed and riddled with inexplicable anxiety and just kind of crawling out of my skin on Sunday nite, that I realized, maybe that isn't truly The Perfect Weekend!

Maybe I need to intentionally plan a few more items with people whose company I enjoy. People who make me feel good about who I am. Who make me feel hopeful about what i might have to offer this world. People who make me laugh, and enjoy my stories. People who do not have some sort of agenda.

That is my new plan/goal for my weekends. The motto above still stands,

Do as little as possible,
for as long as possible.

But only for Saturday mornings. Once I've passed the noon or 1:00 range, I need to get moving and seeing other human beings face to face, in reality. TV doesn't count.

Sigh

sucks to have your hopes, and dreams and wishes fulfilled only to realize you were looking for the wrong thing!

" I Did It! "

At the beginning of every year, I set goals. I sit down sometime in January and I ponder the things I'd like to accomplish that year. I put it down in writing. I keep those lists. I write things that *I* would like to do. I write things I *believe* God wants me to do or is willing to help/allow me to do. I write things that are within the realm of plausability for me. I do not put things like Learn to play Mozart's something or other whatever concerto in J. I know better. I might have some latent musical ability, but I am certain I will NOT accomplish that particular steepness of goal in 12 months.

for the last two years, at minimum, I have written something about

-budgeting wisely
-losing weight / getting healthy (which is really just a euphemism for Get Skinny!)
- Working on my writing
- working on my photography
- memorizing scripture
- reading more non-fiction, including more of the bible

And each year I look towards the next year and think
"I've barely touched any of those!"

This year is no different. Although I did do some work with the writing there, it will remain on the upcoming list since I have set a new Big Hairy Audacious goal for 2010 in terms of book writing. The rest though .... are a sad statement of the life I choose to live. I am budgeting better than I used to, but I still have very little to my name that I can be proud of. I weigh more now than I have in quite a few years, possibly the all time high, but I quit weighing myself in May, so I'm not certain where that particular number falls right now. I tried to do one thing with my photography and that went nowhere, so, as per my usual, I gave it up and 'watched' for another opportunity, i.e. do NOTHING. I memorized a couple of scriptures just here at the end of the year. I don't read anything but facebook, blogs, and novels. I just don't. I overanalyze and overintellectualize it and just never get anywhere.

Yesterday I got my Self magazine (free with purchase of enough Coke to generate 260ish points on mycokerewards.com.) And the opening editorial is "I Did It" and is talking about making your resolutions for 2010. Not putting things off or simply wallowing or lamenting that you didn't do them this last year. Look Forward! So I started to. And it started dawning on me that the top 3 things on my list remain the same as last year .... and only ONE of them got ANY work at all this year. :(

I pondered a bit and considered what that might mean and I suddenly realized something. Allow me to back up one step. I set Goals for each year because I do not believe in resolutions. resolutions, by definition are something you declare to accomplish, nearly always, in your own power. I believe I'm nearly powerless to accomplish much of anything if left to my own devices. An unhealthy amount of sleep, facebook and food would be the only "accomplishments" I could count on.

So it dawns on me, as I'm pondering Goals For 2010 ... that I'm painting a donkey to look like a zebra. Plain and simple. It's the same thing!!! I'm just 'deciding' that they are goals and therefore can receive God's blessing. But the thing is ...

I've never truly consulted HIM on what HIS goals for my next year are. Yeah, maybe I put in a small bit of effort, but even that primarily consisted of "Well, I'd really like my writing to go somewhere, and I have a gift for that (right?) so on the list it goes cause the gift obviously came from you so .... (scribble scribble scribble)." And, of course, on that list above is scripture memorizing. To just be brutal with myself, and with you, that was another (very transparent) way of trying to get God to approve MY other goals. Sort of a One for You, Two for Me, thing.

Clearly this has worked fantastically for me thus far.

This year, we're going to try something different. I'm going to draw a line down the middle of a page in my journal and I'm going to list the things I, myself, in my own imaginations and desires, want to accomplish in 2010 and on the other side I'm going to list those things that I believe God wishes me to accomplish in 2010. We'll see how dissimilar the lists are, and then I'll (hopefully) start focusing my energies on the things that overlap.

Now .... gotta get working on finishing that NaNo novel .... set a goal to finish it by the end of the year .... I'm like 5% there maybe ....

Why I prefer crime dramas (lots of rambling)

Shortest answer?
They don't make me cry.

Almost any time I watch a standard primetime dramatic television series. I cry. Regularly. Last week I cried at Private Practice and I don't even watch the freakin show!

If I linger at mom and dad's on Sunday nights after Three Rivers (my only exception to this rule, and primarily an exception because of Alex O'Loughlin) I end up crying at Brothers and Sisters.

Yes, I'm a soft touch. No, it doesn't often take all that much to make me cry. Yes, it's easier if I'm tired or worn out.

A few weeks back I cried at Private Practice because Violet was giving the boyfriend guy the baby because she couldn't bond with her newborn. Here's the twist for me. I start crying because all I can think is that I may never even get the option to bond with a baby.

I cried on my way home one night because someone on one of the shows was in love. And he had professed something lovely and endearing and, yes, likely improbable in real life. But I'm not even sure any of the guys I have ever dated have professed anything eloquent enough to be put down in writing, clearly nothing worth committing to memory.

I cried tonight because i very suddenly and very deeply felt forgotten.

I am feeling invisible again. And it's been awhile, so it's kind of fresh right now.
I feel left out
left behind
cast aside
used up
un-valuable
not worth your time
or effort
or concern

.......

and I know that it is mostly untrue.

I know, in my mind, that I have good friends. And people who love me. Family who love me. So so so many kids who not only love me .... they love me unconditionally. They love me solely for showing up!

I posted a lovely post last night about contentment and peace and being full. And it was true then. And it will be true again.

Tonight I thought "I have 271 friends on facebook, and only one person thought to invite me to any Halloween 'festivities'. " Only one.

We did a personality profile at church awhile back. And I'm the type of person who absolutely thrives on parties and fun and social butterfly etc etc etc. So, any time, and I mean pretty much any time I hear that there is fun to be had or there was fun to be had and I wasn't or aren't invited, it makes me a bit sad.

But here's the thing ...
Tonight, I'm not sad because there was 'fun' out there to be had and I wasn't invited. I had a lovely evening. I got exactly what I needed, and I'm fine with that. What makes me sad, Is that I came home to an empty apartment with two fish again. I went to bed alone, again. I got up and made myself coffee, alone, again. Tonight I came home, to an empty apartment with two fish, again.

For someone who thrives in groups and with people, you would be absolutely stunned to realize how much time I spend alone. I have been fully single for 7 years. I have lived fully alone for over 2 years.

I am absolutely aware how ridiculous this sounds, but I see this lovely man on Three Rivers tell his wife how much he loves her. And she says how much she loves him. But they both refuse to make any concessions or compromises to be together and make their marriage work. And I think "I would do anythingto make that work if a good and decent man loved me like that. ANYTHING."

And I'm worried that it doesn't matter. Because the odds are stacked against me 2:3. Did you know that? I read that the other day. In an average church there are 3 single women to every 2 single men. And if I allow myself to consider any factors other than God's own Divine Providence and Intervention, then I am almost always going to come out last among those 3.

"You only get one chance to make a first impression." I have come to hate that phrase. I can only hope that I get to smile at you before you notice the rest of me. I can only hope that my first impression focuses on my laughter
or smile
or eyes
or earrings
or hair
.... or shoes! Because I am nearly convinced that if you notice anything in between first, then you're outta there. And I know that's not fair. But it feels like the truth of my world.

And I'd rather not be reminded. I'd rather not see "people" give up on love. I'd rather not see "people" fall in love. Or have babies.

And I'd rather not hear how great my life is compared to yours. And I'd rather not hear how I ought to use this time to prepare. And I'd rather not hear how the 'right' man will come along. Or the 'right' man won't notice those things in between my earrings and my shoes. I'd rather not hear how glad I ought to be that I'm not married to this guy or that guy or her husband or hers.

I'd rather immerse myself in 'reality' TV. And fringe science with incredibly bizarre and creepy theories and experiments. And a world where everyone had a vision of their future 6 months from now and they're all trying to figure out what it means. And a crime lab where they all get along pretty well, and they solve crimes 25 out of 26 shows.

I'd rather distract myself with those, than remind myself that I'm going to post this, get a glass of milk, and go to bed,
alone,
again.

Big Loser - support

Watching Biggest Loser tonight. Inspired as always.

I saw Abby talking to her mom about how much support they are getting for her at home since she was America's choice at the last season finale. She was crying because she was so touched at how much support is coming in. Not only does she have the support of her friends and family, she has the support of America.

And I thought to myself

"I wouldn't have that much support if I did something like that"

And pretty much IMMEDIATELY caught myself up short. Reminded myself I would have EXACTLY that much support. And the support of my Maker. If I told everyone I knew that I was going to do any version of the Biggest Loser (because I'm actually not even HEAVY enough right now to make it on the show!) I would have so much support.

I told my mom early on this year that my goal, well, one of many goals was to lose 45% of my body weight. It was mid-low level for my height on the official chart. An incredibly lofty goal, but attainable. IF ... IF I had been working at this already this entire year and had already lost around 50-60ish pounds. I have not. at all. In fact, I haven't even been on a scale in 3-5 months, so I can't even tell you what I weight right now.

And I think about all the things these contestants have to say. All their reasons for being there. The families, the kids, the lives they want to have.

My only, truest, deepest reason is in the hopes of catching a husband. The hope of getting svelte and sleek and sexy enough to catch someone's eye. The paradox is that my personality is such that I won't put up with someone shallow nor someone who would only stay interested in me for exactly that svelteness. I want to be in a relationship for the long haul, and at my age, 30 years together ... and anything shallow will have LOOOONG died.

I always come back around to the other half of that problem. Even IF, if I could lose that weight and catch someone's eye. I truly don't want to live a life where I have to work that hard for that long that much in order to keep that look up for him. Of all the ridiculous things I consider and ponder and think about, the idea of nabbing a man with a sleek svelte body only to let it go completely after I get him to marry me, that is one of the rudest and meanest ridiculous things I've noodled.

So that leaves me here. Middle of the road. Uncommitted. Wishing. Single in Paradox. Maybe someday I'll have a rock bottom moment and decide to get healthy for mySELF. I'll let ya know.

slob or sloth or both

according to Merriam Webster a slob is defined as: : a slovenly or boorish person. Slovenly is defined as: a: untidy especially in personal appearance and b: lazily slipshod and Sloven as a noun is: one habitually negligent of neatness or cleanliness especially in personal appearance. Possibly more pertinent is the definition of sloth: disinclination to action or labor : indolence b: spiritual apathy and inactivity (the deadly sin of sloth). For those of you still amused at my continual word definition indolence is defined as: inclination to laziness. I'm thinking I shoulda changed the title of this blog.

I'm too lazy.

I am. I am a slob. I am a dirty nasty pig. I seldom 'clean' my living space and only haphazardly tidy up the myriad of bags and piles and stuff that continually accumulate. In fact, as a 'bonding' experience my mom comes over to clean every few months. I tidy up first, and before you get all upset for no apparent reason since it technically has nothing whatsoever to do with YOU, she only does the stuff she wants to and every single time comes to my home and informs me that she "will not do the tub!" To which I have begun to reply "I've never cleaned my tub, why would YOU?" Which is half joke ... I have cleaned my tub ... twice maybe ... I dunno.

I realize at this point I probably should be more than a little ashamed to admit all this out on the Internet for anyone to see and where potential suitors could read it. But, hey, this is me. This is who i am today. I usually envision some pint at which I'll have my crap together and I'll have all these fantastic systems for keeping things tidy and neat and in order. But at the end of the day, I am absolutely chock full to overflowing out of my ears with indolence. I am! I would rather sit here and play meaningless games on facebook (anyone else hooked on MouseHunt???) than to actually be a productive member of my household. And, for the record, I am the only member of my household, so this does not bode particularly well for my countertops or dirty dishes.

In fact, I have gone so far as to devise a barter system in my mind for any future husband. They are tasks I consider to be fairly equal on some level which I will happily trade off duties. For example: I will do all the laundry if you clean the bathroom. (Nearing a level of gross here ... but I am not the one leaving the mess on that toilet ... YOU clean it up.) Also, I will vacuum if you will dust. Mostly because I don't mind vacuuming and kind of am compulsive about how one vacuums, whereas dusting is one of the single most pointless activities I can imagine. And I refuse to move things around to dust under and behind them ... thus clearly showing a line to anyone looking where my motivation starts and stops. Lastly, and my most favorite, if you're friends with me on facebook you won't be surprised by this one. I will cook every single meal for the rest of our lives if YOU WILL DO ALL THE DISHES ... FOREVER. Deal?? Message me and we'll talk details like the ring and white dress etc.

In the meantime I am surrounded by two sizable piles of papers. One is just receipts, but still sizable. Plus a pile of papers on the drawer next to me which should all be filed in my SUPER SIMPLE system I devised a couple of years ago and have never managed to keep up on. In another room there is a pile of clothes I have worn once but don' consider dirty. So I lay them out to 'air' out so I can wear them again another day. In the kitchen are the canned goods I just brought home which will probably stay there until ... Saturday? Tuesday? Who's to say. Don't get me started on the shoe rack.

And what am I going to do? I'm going to go watch a movie. After I set up my coffee and get some nesquik and a snack. They had nesquik at Aldi's ... I KNOW!!! Movie nite, here I come!!

p.s. I gotta say sloths are really kinda freakin ugly. It took me like 10 minutes to find the picture of this one that didn't give me the heebeejeebees.

Taken - the movie

((sigh))

Where to start? they say at the beginning, but that is somewhere shortly after creation and the fall from the Garden of Eden. I don't have the time, inclination, education or megabytes to write all of that.

What I can tell you is that Taken, again, brought to the forefront of my mind an issue that I can't seem to get away from. An issue, that once it took hold in my heart and mind and soul and spirit, I don't want to get away from. An issue that baffles me that more people aren't talking about. Something that I truly have a difficult time fathoming that it even still exists.

Human Trafficking.
more specifically, the Sex Slave Trade.

Taken is about a man who worked for his government for many years as a 'preventer' as he tells his daughter eventually. He retires in order to try to build a relationship with her after years of absence and disappointment. As in many many fractured relationships the attempt seems too little too late. Which to begin with is quite sad. Something that happens in far too many relationships, sadly.

Through a bit of lying and a touch of emotional blackmail the daughter, and her mother, convince the dad to agree to let her go to Paris for a trip. It's never truly clear how long they'll be gone but it's a week or two at least. In his former life as a 'preventer' he knows just exactly the possibilities the world could hold for his beautiful and innocent daughter. He at first says no and then gives in, with some conditions. Conditions that end up being useless because to begin with his daughter doesn't follow them and then once she has started to follow them she is kidnapped and doesn't really have the opportunity to follow them.

She is kidnapped by an illegal immigrant ring in Paris who have found that kidnapping tourists is cheaper than conning women from eastern europe to travel with them so they can be forced into trafficking after they've arrived in western europe. A kidnapping ring that now specializes in the sex trade. A kidnapping ring that provides the 'best' girls for private auctions to wealthy foreign men. A kidnapping ring that, clearly, has absolutely no belief in humanity.

Throughout the movie, one man, the father, is the only man who seems to care that these are girls, these are daughters and mothers and sisters and friends! The french police are even extorting the kidnappers ring to allow them to continue their business in Paris. One man even goes so far as to say, explicitly "I have a daughter too. This wasn't personal. This was just business, it was just business!" To which the father replies, quite aptly, "It was all personal to me!" and shoots him.

The thing that truly gets me about this, is that so many people in our world are
either unaware or absolutely, unequivocally apathetic about this whole issue.

How can you be apathetic that millions of women and children are forced to work against their will every single day, many of them doing sex acts we wouldn't even read about in a book much less do, with multiple partners every flipping hour?!?!!!

I don't understand how you can hear that and not want to put your fist through a wall. How you can hear that and not want to simply cry for all the women that are stuck in that hell right now, all the women who don't have a father with those skills or a family with the resources or anyone at all to even attempt to save them from that torture. And, honestly, I don't think torture is a strong enough word, but I can't think straight through the red haze in my mind to find a better one.

I think it's easy for us to sit here in the midwest and pretend it doesn't touch us. Pretend it doesn't have anything to do with me. Pretend it will never happen to me or anyone I know. So I can breathe easy tonight and sleepy soundly and know that me and mine are safe.

What if I told you that I can almost guarantee there is at least one woman being held against her will within 100 mile radius of where you are sitting right this moment? What would you do then? Would you pay more attention at the store? Would you pay more attention to your neighbors? Would you listen more carefully at night when you hear those weird noises your neighbors make every once in awhile?

More importantly, would you be willing to put your neck on the line to do something about it?? I'll be honest, I'd like to be able to say that I would. But if I heard noises that didn't sound right, would I actually do anything at all? I'd like to hope that if I noticed an unusual amount of visitors at all hours of the day and night at a house in my neighborhood, that I would call someone. I don't know. I'd like to hope that if I saw a woman at the grocery store that just didn't seem 'right' like she didn't know where she was or what she was doing or seemed overly scared or something, that I would ask if I could help her or if she was ok. But we all know that it's easier not to do anything at all, and to walk away and pray that the person is ok. That God would make it ok. But what if YOU were the answer to prayer for that woman, and now her tomorrow won't be any more ok than today was??

We talk about domestic violence, and that is a horrible thing as well, I won't even begin to think about arguing with that for a second. But the only reason we are having that conversation is because someone we know has been hit. Someone we know watched their mom get hit. Someone we know has died at the hands of someone in their own household. When it is someone you know, it changes things. When it is your friend being hit, it changes. When it is your brother in law doing the hitting, it changes. When it is you pleading with someone to leave for their own safety, it changes.

How much worse does trafficking have to get before it hits close enough to
home for it to change??
does it have to be your daughter?
does it have to be your friend?
does it have to be your child?

At what point do we decide that enough is enough!! That ignorant, greedy, selfish men with no appreciation for the inherent human value of a female person do not get to win!! That they can be brought down daily, by people like us?

I know what you're thinking, if you're still reading. It's the same thing I thought.

What can I do??

First of all, talk. Be willing to have the conversation and be willing to be the first to bring it up. Next, support causes that are already fighting this fight. There are causes that provide jobs and extraction options to women caught in trafficking. There are causes that raise awareness and lobby for changing laws. Then, pray. Pray about how you can make a difference. Pray that those organizations that are already working on this be fully funded and then some. Pray that the organizations have excellent staff and wise and Godly counsel. Pray that the staff have a supernatural hedge of protection around them every time they step into this particular lions den.

Lastly, and this one comes from my own heart. Refuse to allow women to be degraded or treated as objects in any way in any place that you live, work, play, function or breathe. Refuse to let people tell you that trafficking has always been and it will always be. Refuse to let people tell you that there is nothing you can do. Beat the ever living snot out of any man that you ever find out has visited a prostitute, EVER. (You can let him live because I don't want a murder rap coming back at me, but i'm just suggesting it.) Smack a guy around if you find out he's watching porn. Take the magazine and give him a few smacks, like you would a dog, if the magazine shows more skin than you'd like to see in church. And punch a man, as hard as you can, wearing every ring that you own, if he so much as hints that trafficking should EVER be legalized, in any form or fashion. Slap any man who has the audacity to tell a joke that honestly compares a woman to an object or an animal or objectifies her as nothing more than a tool to be used by men for sexual release.

Yes, that is incredibly extreme. Yes it is violent. Sure, violence begets more violence, or so they say. But at the end of the day, a new set of laws will not stop the men who perpetuate this abomination!! The only thing that will ever truly make a difference is for women and men (yes, MEN) to stand up and say NO MORE. This is not only illegal and immoral, it is a scourge on the 21st century!

I truly believe that trafficking at its worst all begins when little boys are told that mommy's 'job' is to keep daddy happy or to keep the house clean. When young men are given magazines full of impossible images and told to 'be a man.' When college boys decide that a woman being passed out is close enough to consent to do as they wish. When men of any age decide to pay for release or affection rather than work to create something real with another human being they consider equal to themselves.

Will you help? or will you label me a fanatic? or will you throw up your hands in defeat and concede victory before we've even begun? Will you allow those hundreds and thousands of little girls to be victimized over and over today? or will you do your little part in your little corner to say NO, it ends, NOW, Here, forever.

got sleep?

I don't. I struggle with insomnia. Not true, full-blown, I literally haven't slept for days, kind of insomnia. Just that I have a hell of a time falling asleep, I almost never sleep through the entire night without waking and never ever want to get out of bed in the morning. Ever.

I recognize that in large part this is due to the simple fact that I have not built good habits around bedtime. The time itself is always different. They say not to, but I was putting in a movie to fall asleep to. Because, for me, it worked. I have tinnitus (constant, and I mean constant ear ringing) and the low noise of the movie helps distract me from that long enough to fall asleep. I tried tea for the umpteenth time a few weeks back, and I just plain don't care for tea. I know that I can take benadryl and it'll knock me out, but I absolutely despise the idea of being dependent on a drug to fall asleep! I also, however, recognize that using benadryl for a time to build a "sleeping at a decent time" habit could be highly beneficial.

The thing about all this is that ultimately it makes me a Crab. I never fully realized what it meant to Be Irritable or to Be Cranky until the last year or so. My coworkers have come to recognize that they need to tread softly around me in the morning and gauge what kind of night it might have been. On the one hand this is nice of them as well as self-preserving for them. On the other hand I do recognize they really shouldn't have to do that.

I used to think I was cranky ... I have no idea what I thought cranky was, but I am so far beyond any reasonable definition I had in my twenties (gawd that phrase alone is enough to make me cry in my nachos) that I seriously don't know how I would have defined it. Now I can define it much better. to Be Irritable is to feel like every single annoyance, no matter how small is nails on a chalkboard for an extended period of time. Literally, the small annoyance of hearing the fan squeak makes me want to smash it. People driving at normal speeds or with reasonable caution, but who are otherwise in my way I want to scream at, and often do.

Two things about this frustrate me the most. First that, intellectually, I am certain that I ought to be able to simply 'fix' it and be fine. Ultimately it is me. I ought to be able to fix myself so that I don't have to be the Wicked Witch for days on end. Intellectually I recognize that I should have been in bed 2 hours ago. I should have come home, settled my stuff and done my routine and gone to bed. In my defense 1) this is Friday and 2) tomorrow is my birthday. The problem is that I give myself excuses most days. Two days this week i gave myself excuses. Two days this week I simply did not sleep well and therefore didn't catch up any sleep I'd missed. (Don't post comments about 'you can't catch up on sleep' I know for myself I can, a bit)

Second, I believe that as a Christian woman who believes deeply in the power of God that I ought to be able to control this irritability and not be rude and ignorant to people and let my mouth have it's head so to speak and absolutely kill any kind of witness I could otherwise offer. In my heart and my spirit I know I ought to be able to. But that's the problem with sleep-deprivation. I have no reserve. I have no cushion. I have no room, no breath, no space. I can't tolerate your stupidity for one more minute because I didn't rebuild my patience by sleeping well last night so my brain could function at full capacity. And yes, that falls on me, but, today, I need to turn my back so that you can't see me roll my eyes again at your stupidity and ignorance and annoying interruption of my already overcrowded day. I am fully ... fully aware that my tongue is downright out of control. I have no doubts or delusions about this. But with the incredible lack of sleep I end up with by Fridays I simply don't care. I just don't. Maybe that sounds bad, but I just don't. I don't have enough energy to care. I'm using up all my energy breathing and functioning and being productive and not ripping your head off for looking at me cross-eyed.

The most upsetting result of all this is the emotional breakdown. I read a blog tonight and started crying. To be perfectly honest, I've shed a few tears already tonight. And to continue that honesty, I will likely cry myself to sleep. And tomorrow's my birthday. In fact, that may end up being a fair portion of why I'm crying. This life I have, wonderful as it is in the vast majority of respects, is not what I expected or asked for. It is so far from where I thought I'd be 6 years ago that I don't recognize it, and I no longer recognize that girl that had those dreams. And I am forced to wonder, not for the first time, if some of those dreams are pipe dreams, never to be had. Yes, I'm talking about relationships, but I'm also talking about the little things. A laptop, for example. It's such a small, simple, (in the grand scheme of the world) little thing; and, not in any way necessary to my living or breathing or functioning. However, I've been dreaming of having one for a year or two now, and something always seems to come up. It feels like that with so many things and I'm just tired of wishing for things that always feel inches (and miles) beyond my reach.

And, yes, I fully realize I am overwrought and overtaxed. I am overtired and overweight. I am ... me. I am what I am, and His grace to me has not been without effect. Never seems to be the effect I would have wished for, but it has had significant effects. I am irrational, I know that. But rational is beyond me right now. Well beyond me. Maybe I'll find some tomorrow. Hopefully I'll find some tomorrow, or else I'll end up crying myself to sleep at the end of my birthday and not just at the beginning.

absence

I had delusions of thinking I could post my whole testing fiasco to do with figuring out my galbladder is causing me much problems. Alas, it is now 1150 the night before the actual surgery to remove said galbladder and I am not only out of time, Iam out of wit. I am nervous as hell and trying to focus solely on getting to the IV portion. I have what is called a "vaso-vago response" which means I faint when there are needles involved. I figure if I can make it to the IV thing then I'll pass out and wake up after it's all over, more or less. maybe tomorrow or Thursday I can post some amusements to do with the surgery and recovery and my mom and the many well wishes and HIGHLY appreciated prayers that have gone out on my behalf regarding this. For now I will spare you a picture of the gallbladder.

p.s. if something 'unexpected' happens, someone get my sister to go get the envelope out of my small top desk drawer under the organizer. Shanks!!

That's Right, I Said it

oh. my. goodness. Something has been bothering me for weeks, months, possibly years. And I am going to say it. I am going to throw my hat in the ring on this one. I am going to expose one of the issues in our society that makes me

ABSO

FREAKING

LUTELY

CRAZY

NUTSO

PSYCHOTIC!!!

I saw a blog post awhile back somewhere that Mandisa has a new CD coming out called 'Freedom' and that she is touring and sharing the new freedom she has found ...

not in Christ, but through WEIGHT-LOSS!!

She lost 70-80 pounds and is touring and talking about her weight-loss and the causes for her original weight-gain and the freedom she has found. Now let me be clear right from the start. Absolute, double, triple, quadruple kudos to her for losing 80 pounds. Kudos to her for sharing the freedom that she has found in that. And a Million Kudos to her for sharing that she was abused as a child and raped as a teenager. I absolutely realize that it takes guts to put yourself out there to that degree. I totally get that. And I hope that others who have struggled through those issues can find healing and wholeness through truth and transparency in safe ways. She is also clear that those experiences affected how she saw her body and that she used food to pad herself to feel safe. I can understand that. I think a lot of women can.

But everything I have seen posted and the video I saw of her on the show, there is #1) zero mention of God or Jesus or the healing he has given her or the source of her ability to forgive Simon Cowell way back when. and #2) it is implied that the only way to 'freedom' is to lose weight and look a certain way. The worst part is that that certain look is never defined or hinted at. Just that if you have weight to lose or if you think you might or if you simply don't like how you look then you have work to do before you can get freedom.

Right at the beginning Hoda says 'Congratulations!! How Amazing!!' and Kathie Lee says "You look beautiful!!" And all I can think is "Did she truly look so horrendous and awful before??"

This is the whole thing about this weight-loss debate that gets me. Who decided what is the 'right' size to be? Who decided what women should weigh? Why does it vary so incredibly wildly across various cultures?? And, why have we all bought into this idea that we are 'over'weight if we don't fit nicely into a certain box on a chart that was created like 40-50 years ago?? 100 years ago women were expected to have 19 inch waists and would physically injure themselves permanently to get and keep that waist!

I understand that a physical human frame of bones and muscles and filled with all our vagary of organs can only tolerate so much abuse and misuse before it starts to quit. I agree that carrying around an extra 100 pounds is hard on the body in a myriad of ways. I agree that to be stuck in your house because you carry an extra 300, 400, 500 or more pounds is no healthy way to live. However, a wonderful dear friend of mine has recently put on I think like 20 pounds and she looks just as wonderful to me as she ever did before. Further her husband loves her deeply and has probably not even really noticed the weight, in fact he may even appreciate it. I don't know. They have had a few major changes in their life in the last year (all good changes ultimately, but all change creates stresses) so it is, in my opinion, absolutely acceptable for her to have put on a few pounds in her efforts to adapt to her new life and cope with the new stressors. Granted, we all ought to be relying on God for that and we ought to be looking to him to give us what we need to cope and we ought to be finding our comfort and identity and peace him Him. But when you have that down pat for all the stressors in YOUR life, then write a book, make a few million dollars and then argue with me.

I, myself, starting at about 188 pounds today, according to those wonderful, lovely charts have a minimum of 50 pounds to lose to get to 135ish which is the top range for my 5'2" height. Considering I do not have particularly large bones I probably ought to be shooting for another 10 and have a goal weight of 125. I weighed a bit less than that in high school, so I know what I look like at that weight. However, the life I lead and the choices I choose (Coke over water, sugar over sweetner, cookies over carrots) keep me at this weight. I try to be active and I try to make good choices when I can, but, clearly, this is a losing battle for me, at this time.

Now, here is what gets me. Why exactly 'should' I weigh 130?? Who says I should?? Why do I believe them?? Why do we assume that whomever set up those charts in the first place had any idea what they were talking about?? Why do we allow them to define our self-respect, our level of worth and the ceiling to which we can aspire?? Why does the only path to freedom require losing 50 pounds???

I spend a lot of time with family and close of friends. I work 40 hours a week. I go to church at least 3 out of 4 sundays. I do watch a lot of TV, but at minimum half of it is 'bonding' time that I spend with someone I am close to. I watch 3 shows right now with my mom. I don't care what you think of cable tv or my lifestyle I am absolutely unwilling to give all 3 of them up right now to spend more time in the gym to reach this potentially unreachable goal. And one of those 3 shows is Biggest Loser .... how's that for irony!

A lot of the time I love my life. I do the things I enjoy and I enjoy the people who get me and I make it a point to try to live as fully as I can in any moment. Most moments that does not include a work out tape or carrot sticks. So, why can't I find freedom exactly where I am right now?? The bible says that Jesus came to set the Captives Free! Not that he came to set the Skinny Captives Free ... or even that he came to set the 'Healthy' Captives Free! All of them.

ALL OF US!

I know some would then argue that once you have been set free, that the weight should naturally drop off because you will 'naturally' eat less junk food and work out more in appreciation of that freedom. Really?? Cause I tend to think that although I might have a bit more bounce in my step that the true effect of my freedom would be laughter. I laugh. A lot. Loudly. I would think because of my personality and the intricacies which HE placed inside of my character that the freedom would manifest itself individually. For me, that may include more celebrations. More Reward Chocolate. More Enjoyment Coca-Cola. More Celebratory Chinese.

Because for me, as a single woman who lives alone, there isn't another person here to give me a hug or a pat on the back. As a woman who can just exactly pay her bills with a few bucks left over I can't buy myself flowers every time I want to celebrate. And, I don't care what anyone says, going for a walk will NEVER compare to sitting down and enjoying a perfectly doctored cup of coffee.

I'm just tired of the absolutism that exists about weight. I often joke that

I'd rather be Fat and Happy
than Skinny and Miserable.
I'd like to be Skinny and Happy,
but if those are the choices, mine is made.

And that seems to be true for most of our society. They assume that because I carry an extra 50+ pounds around I must have some big psychological issue lurking unaddressed. I know people, personally, who probably think that God and I have some MAJOR problem because I continue to struggle with this weight year after year after year and, clearly, I am unrepentant of something or I would have been set free already. I love wearing high heels, and I wonder if people look at me and think I look like a pig on ice skates. Sometimes I feel that way myself. But does that stop me from eating the extra bit of brownie? nope.

I'm just so sick and tired of this whole debate even existing any more. Why can't I BE a size 16 and enjoy life to the FULL? Why can't I enjoy my sugar-laden coffee and have a good man by my side? Why can't I perk myself up in the afternoons with a Coke and have a successful side business? Why can't I have it all and weigh 188?? Why shouldn't I have it all just because I would rather eat chocolate cupcakes than walk on a treadmill for hours upon hours upon hours??

I don't know why. So, I'm going to. Starting tonight, I am going to do EXACTLY that. I am going to go and enjoy every single second of every single moment that I can. And if that means I eat too much Chicken Tortelloni Pomodoro because it tastes just THAT fantastic, so be it. And if that means that I sit in a chair and do nothing but laugh and cry with my mom while we watch The Amazing Race. Then so be it. And if that means that I live my remaining days as a Single Woman because no man can see past my size 16 pants to my Size 100 Heart, then so be it.

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret
lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
~Maya Angelou

Millionaire Matchmaker on Bravo

Have you seen Patti yet? (Their website) She says she is like a 2nd or 3rd generation matchmaker. She says she is in it to help men find true love. She is absolutely NOT interested in men who are looking to get laid or who want to be a playah. She has certain rules and she is very clear on these and very very strict about them. I can respect that. I can also respect that once you hit a 'Millionaire' status in life, it may be a little more difficult to meet someone who is sincerely interested in you as a person. So on a few levels I have a healthy respect for this show and what she does. Especially after she totally kicked a guy out of her office after his first date because 1) he invited the girl to jet off to Vegas with him, on the first date and 2) He told Patti he thought the girl should ask him out since she turned down his Vegas offer. She clearly has standards and expectations.

The Thing Is that I have never seen a woman on this show larger than a size ... 8? Even her two assistants are very small. She even went so far as to tell her staff at one point that a girl who sends in only a head shot photo is going to be perceived as fat and trying to hide it. My true issue with that is not the weight-ism that it perpetuates but the fact that I, myself, have dated men who liked curvy women, who liked women that had some meat on their bones. So, what is she gonna do when she gets a Millionaire Bachelor who wants a girl who was built for pleasure, not speed. How do you put out the ad that says 'Hey, we're looking for the heavy girls, 'cause I finally have a guy who isn't totally hung up on a girl who looks fantastic!!' Because, let's be honest here, no matter how good you look now ... in 50 years you are not going to look like that anymore. Even if you have a ton of work done, and you work out for hours every day, and you use all the best potions to keep the wrinkles away and the parts firm and where they belong ... in 50 years it is simply not possible for you to look like you did when you were 25. And where does that leave your relationship at? You better hope to Gawd that you actually built it on something of value and worth that can withstand that test of time.

I went to the website to see if I could get a picture of Patti and saw a slideshow of her 10 top quotes. One of them was,

"Every 10 expects a 10, and the only way you're gonna get a 10 is if you become a 10. There's no exception to that rule."

Really? What if I'm only a 7 and I want another 7, how do I find him? And what if he thinks he's a 10 and he only wants a 10, but he's really barely a 4? Then what? Being a millionaire does not automatically make you a 10. ok? Are we clear on this? Because I've seen this show a few times. And by far, the majority of your bachelors are 6 maybe 7 tops. So, don't come at me with this 'like draws like' idea because I am significantly better than half the guys you've had on the show! I said it. I believe it. I won't take it back and I won't feel ashamed about it. I am a size 16/18, single, 30-something woman who is gainfully employed, pursuing a dream, supporting herself, and trying her darndest to remain open to the possibilities of love in this godforsaken country. I am beyond willing to consider dating an older man, who is not gorgeous, who is not rich, who is not even thin or fit or in shape or any other euphemism for ripped. I am actually looking for a man who has character and substance and integrity and believes women are people who deserve to be treated well and understands that when you treat a woman well she does the same right back to you. At least half the men on your show won't even consider dating a woman over 30 ..... and most of them are OVER 40!! Are you kidding me??

I have seriously considered figuring out how to get into a Millionaire's Club. There was one guy who ended up with this ridiculous, shallow, surprisingly unattractive woman and all I could think was

"If he picked her, ... I am totally set!"

But the sizeist thing is a problem. Plus the Jesus thing. But I figure, if I'm gonna keep holding out for the best relationship for ME, then why not hold out for a richie too? I said it in an old post on my previous blog, I would be a perfect richie girlfriend/wife. I'm not a gold digger, I won't stick around if you're a jerk, I can be pampered with money, but my heart cannot be bought. So, why shouldn't I hold out for Kenny Chesney? Or Carmine Giovinazzio? Or even George Eads? I'm sure that they are looking for real, lasting love; or that they will be eventually. So, why shouldn't they find an amazing, down-to-earth, REAL woman like me? How? I have absolutely no freakin idea, but why not?

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not going to ignore an average joe if I meet one today or next week or next month. But why rule out the possibility of a life of fair ease where I could spend my days sleeping in and directing his charity work? Why not? I'm smart enough, and pretty enough, and strong enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!

Patti, if you happen to read this, let me know, I'd LOVE to be in your club and be the first Average Size Woman that you match with a millionaire. In fact, you don't even have to put us on TV, if you find a Millionaire who wants curves, I got 'em. Give me a call, mkay?