Thursday, August 11, 2011

Getting back into shape. Again.

This (below) is what I posted January 1, 2009. Did I meet any of my weight goals that year? Nope. Not a single one. In fact, nothing changed until April, 2011. That's when I finally had an epiphany that this needed to be about health and not weight, about cholesterol and not jean size. With that realization, the weight began to come off. So, first of all, the bleak news from January 1, 2009.....

Current (sad) state of affairs

Height: 71" a.k.a. 5' 11" (here's hoping this is the only number that does NOT decrease this year!)
Weight: 179.0 lbs. (wearing happy pants, a t-shirt and sweatshirt)
Right Thigh: 23.25"
Hips: 40"
Waist: 34" (ay yi yi)
Bust: 40" (OK, I also hope this number doesn't decrease. Well, not much.)
Right Upper (Uland) Arm: 13"
Jeans size: 12 (Old Navy); 16 (V.S. according to their size charts. Stupid V.S.); 34x34 guys Calvin Klein

Goals by 12/31/09 (Not a SINGLE one of which were met)
Height: same (gotta remember to take my calcium and do weight-bearing exercise!)
Weight: 132 lbs. (loss of 47 lbs)
Leg and Arm measurements: unsure. I didn't track those at 132 lbs. I just want to be toned up by year end.
Hips: 36"
Waist: 26"
Bust: 36"
Jeans size: 8 (Gap long and lean) I want to be a size 6 again, but pregnancy has moved my hips to places that will never again fit into size 6 jeans.

And, drumroll current stats (as of 5 minutes ago)

Weight: 148.5 lbs. (LOSS: 30.5 lbs.)
Right Thigh: 20.5" (LOSS: 2.75")
Hips: 38" (LOSS: 2")
Waist: 29" (LOSS: 5")
Bust: 36" (LOSS: 4")
Right Upper (Uland) Arm: 11.25" (LOSS: 1.75")
Jeans size: 8 (Old Navy); 8-10 (V.S. according to their size charts.); 8 (Gap Khakis).

I can fit into my size 8 Gap Long and Lean jeans, but they are still a little snug. I think another 6 or 7 lbs. will get me into them!

Total Weight Lost: 30.5 lbs.
Total Inches Lost: 15.5"
Jeans Sizes Down: 4-6


Tuesday, April 21, 2009

So long, Saturn

I no longer own my Saturn. As of yesterday, it belongs to a dear friend, M, who needs it much more than I. That car meant SO very much to me and, even though, it's only a machine (and a pretty worn-out machine at that) I admit having tears in my eyes as I watched M drive off in it.

I bought the Saturn new, in 1997. I was fresh out of a divorce from a controlling, abusive husband, and stuck driving the car that HE deemed necessary for me to drive. And weeding out of my closet the clothes HE had deemed appropriate. And giving away jewelry that HE had approved for me to wear. (Those of you who know me are shaking your heads, wondering how on earth he ever controlled me to that extent, but he did)

So, even though I had a perfectly fine car ('95 Mitsubishi Galant), I set off in search of a new car, one that was ME. One that didn't remind me every single day of the jerk who had picked it out. I settled on an adorable little green Saturn coupe, with leather seats, sunroof and a CD player. I drove off the lot, popped in a Pearl Jam CD and drove the entire loop around Indianapolis, reveling in a decision that *I* had made on my own, and on having something that entirely belonged to me.

That car, like my beloved Wicka kitty, was a constant through all the turbulent years that were to follow, and the ones of amazing peace (that passes understanding) that would eventually fill my life. It has hauled drunken friends when I was the designated driver. It has carried me home w/someone else at the wheel when I wasn't. It was the perfect car for Broad Ripple clubbing because I could parallel park it anywhere. It has ferried Wicka on countless trips from Indy down to Mom and Dad's for the weekend, and brought me and Max from Indiana to Texas to begin my new life here. It has served as a dump truck when I've had to fold the seats down and toss in bags of dirt at Home Depot. It has been my carriage when we went to formal parties downtown, dressed in our finest. I have wrestled a baby car seat into the back bucket seat, even though I distinctly remember picking the coupe over the sedan because *I* was never going to have kids. A lot has changed in 12 years.

And, even though there is absolutely nothing extraordinary about the car itself (meaning that my ex would never have even considered it because there was no BMW tag on the front or other status attached to it) it has been an extension of me, through all the stages of my independent adult life. And every time I walked outside to get into it, I saw all of that, and how much better my life is now.

But, back to M. She is referred to here by initial only because she is in an even worse situation than I was when I bought this car. She has fled with her two children and is living in fear of her husband, hammering out a divorce settlement with him. He has physically abused her, and her children, and she took the kids and left to protect them. Until yesterday, she was doing that without a car. So, after months of paperwork and hassles (thank you, State of Indiana BMV) she now has a car. It's a 12-year-old, rather banged-up car, but it's a car.

I drove it to deliver it to her yesterday, with Pearl Jam blaring, and remembered exactly, painfully, where I had been when I first drove like that in March of 1997. And reflecting on how far God has brought me, how different my life is, and how many rich, deep blessings came from that horrible period in my life.

M got into the car, and said exactly what I had felt 12 years ago, "I can't believe I am going to have something that is all mine, that HE didn't pick out for me" And so begins another chapter of a woman reclaiming her life and her freedom, and again the Saturn is there. She will be building memories of emerging from this abuse as a stronger, more independent woman who knows her worth, and will not let anyone take that from her again. And I am grateful to have been a part of that.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Wednesday, April 8, 2009


It's my downfall. I have had a dozen things to post here but haven't done it because I haven't had time to make it perfect. To write, and proof, and revise. My house has gotten totally out of control because I wasn't able to keep up when the fibromyalgia was so bad. Then I got better, but couldn't fix the house because I couldn't finish it all at once, so why start? Or I couldn't afford the furniture or organization supplies I need, so why try?

Finally, it hit a breaking point for me Monday. The Princess and I were snapping at each other, and I was totally stressed out from all the piles of junk (from the painting ordeal). I realized that chaos in my house leads to chaos in my head, and that leads to me taking out frustrations on those around me...those I love. So, I declared a "mental health emergency", rounded up friends to entertain The Princess for me while I work (and friends to help me work) and tackled all the books/papers/homeschool paraphernalia lying around.

I dropped The Princess at Emily's yesterday for a playdate, and as I drove home, I heard a song, "Free to be me". The lyrics really struck a chord with me. When it was over, I flipped to the next channel on my presets and it was on there, too, right in the middle. The words I heard when I changed the station were:

I've got a couple dents in my fender,
got a couple rips in my jeans.
Try to put the pieces together,
but perfection is my enemy.
On my own, I'm so clumsy,
but on Your shoulders I can see...
that I'm free to be me.

I needed to hear that. This perfectionism is driving me to be a person I can't stand. It's driving me to push too hard, to give up too soon (or not even start, if I think I can't do it) and I am not enjoying life at all. I honestly do not enjoy life right now. And I should be able to. I have rich blessings, a great family, a beautiful home. I think I'll play this song now and then, to remind met that we all have dents in our fenders and rips in our jeans. But that makes us who we are.

Here's the video if you want to watch:

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

You must live in your school

I found this quote regarding homeschool as a lifestyle and had to post it. This is what I am aiming for. Of course, this can be accomplished no matter what form of schooling your family is using. I just love the idea of a learning house. I don't know who James Neill is. Anyone else know? That shall be my first order of business...educate myself about him. Ha ha!
You must live in your school. Your house and land you live on must be the school. You are always the teacher and always the student. You must do everything possible to educate yourself about life, the world, yourself, and most importantly, the connections between everything. You must have many people visit the school, and much solitude and silence to reflect on things. You must start this school now. It must be your life.
— James Neill, 30 June, 2001

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Wednesday musings on a Thursday

First of all, I did weigh but didn't get it posted: 171. Not bad, except that later the same day, I weighed 174. I think it's just going to fluctuate a lot and I have to go with how I feel overall. And, with two weeks of consistent exercise under my belt, I feel great! Diane and I have been following a 5k training program for 2 weeks and it feels great. I painted on Tuesday for 5 1/2 hours (including the ceilings) and felt fine! Over the summer last year, I tried to paint the ceiling in Olivia's room and had to ask Max to finish it. I can feel that my health is improving dramatically. Praise God for that answered prayer!

On to my musings...I can't explain it, but I have been *really* sad about the passing of Natasha Richardson. I can't say I was a big fan of her movies...not that I disliked them, but I have seen very few of them. However, what has impressed me in her death is how little I really knew about her in her life. She was a Redgrave. Born into an acting dynasty. And, yet, I knew very little about her, other than that she was married to Liam Neeson.

And that is precisely why I feel so sad at her passing. She was born to privilege and wealth, but never flaunted it. When I think of the likes of Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian (and all the other heiresses with their own reality shows), it nauseates me that they are the role models for kids, while someone like Natasha Richardson is comparatively unknown because she chose to live her life with dignity and (sorry Max, there's just no other word for it) class.

The more I see reality shows taking over television, and the overt sexualization of everything and every product (don't get me started on the obnoxious Burger King commercial with the mini burgers and the women throwing themselves at the guy holding them) the more I feel like getting rid of TV entirely. For every Natasha Richardson and Liam Neeson, living their lives as a family, quietly out of the spotlight, there are ten Britney Spears/Kevin Federline, FlavorFlav/Brigitte Nielson train wrecks clamoring for attention. And they are getting it.

I guess I am not only sad today that a family has to bury a wife, mother, sister, daughter. I am sad that the only real media coverage she has gotten is in her death. Reading about her, and the grace with which she handled the pressures of being heiress to the Redgrave legacy, and a Tony-winning actress in her own right, I think there should have been a lot more coverage of the good she did in life, not just the tragedy of her death.

Friday, March 13, 2009

One Seventy!

That's what I weigh, right now, WITH my big hoodie on. :) just had to share.