blonde revelations

...i uNaPoLoGizE...

2010-06-05T00:38:00.007-05:00

I feel guilty when I shouldn't. I eat s*** when I should be saying "Screw you!. I'm embarrassed when I receive a compliment. I downplay my intelligence because it's easier to let people think I'm dumb. I don't always demand the respect I deserve. I say "I'm sorry." waaaaaay too often for things I should not be sorry about.

I do this to make other people feel more comfortable around me.

This week I've done a lot of thinking...about my life...about what I accept...about where I came from and how I got to where I'm at...and I came to a decision. I decided that while I will still apologize when I have done something wrong...I will no longer apologize to make other people feel better about themselves. I am officially UNAPOLOGIZING.

I unapologize for my comfortable life. I was not born into a wealthy family..in fact it is quite the opposite. I have 5 brothers and sisters and while we were not destitute...there were many times that we couldn't have what we wanted. Everything that I have now, I have worked for. There were many years that I went without...without a fancy car...without new clothes or shoes...without fake nails...without all the comforts that I so enjoy. There were times when I went without the basic things we take for granted...like a warm house in the winter...or the ability to go buy fast food.

I unapologize for my appearance. I am far from perfect, but I work hard to be the best I can be. I am like a fine wine that gets better and better over time. It starts out average and becomes special. I am not "naturally thin". I work my a** off...EVERY day to fit in my size 4 jeans. I will no longer feel guilty when people stare or women whisper because I work hard to look the way I do.

I unapologize for having an amazing job...a job that I love...a job where I laugh and talk and enjoy the company of amazing people...a job where every day I get to teach and help people...a job where I actually make a difference in the world. It took a lot of time, money and hard work to achieve my goal. It also took the encouragement of people I respect and courage to overcome my fear of failure and get to where I am today. And I also unapologize for the fact that I don't need to work so I have the ability to work part time and make very little money while doing what I love.

I unapologize for wanting to be sexy at 40. It would be easy to let myself go and throw on baggy jeans and tennis shoes everyday and put my hair back in a ponytail. I don't always want to spend the time to do my hair and makeup...or to pick out just the right clothes...or wear 4 in heels...but I do it because when I am all put together and someone asks me how old I am...and I tell them...and they don't believe me...I feel good and I know my hard work has payed off.

I unapologize for having great kids...kids that are beautiful and smart and kind and good. I think about all the hours spent reading books and going to museums and libraries. I think of all the times it would've been easier to give my kids what they want and over indulge them instead of disciplining them. I think of the countless hours I spent teaching my kids right from wrong...even when it was hard and even when it made them different. My kids may not be perfect, but they are good kids because I worked very hard to help mold them into what they are.

I'm tired of trying to make other people feel better about themselves at my own expense. And as braggy and stuck up as it may sound...I'm pretty great because I work on it every day...and if that makes other people uncomfortable than that's just too bad. It's good to be me and I will not apologize for my successes any more.

..."tO LiVe oR diE"...

2010-05-24T12:41:00.010-05:00

"The human life is made up of choices...yes or no...in or out...up or down. And then there are choices that matter...love or hate...to be a hero or to be a coward...to fight or give in...to live or die. Live or die...that's the important choice...and it's not always in our hands."

I heard these words as I watched a show on TV yesterday. It stopped me and made me think…in fact, I had to pause the show for a minute, rewind it, and write these words down. I have always believed that our lives are made up of a series of choices…choices we make everyday…some are big and some are small but in the end I believe that every single choice we make…makes a difference and changes our lives...for the better or for the worse.

The “live or die” part of this quote seems the most extreme…the most out of our control…and in the literal sense, maybe it is…but I don’t think most of us realize how many times throughout our lives we make that choice. For some people…it is not an easy choice. I have known people…people that I love…that wanted to take their own life…and tried…more than once…but did not die. The doctors were baffled each time, because this person should have died…more than once. I’ve always held onto the belief that it was because there is a part of this person’s heart that DOES want to live…that’s the only way I can bear the pain that I feel when this happens.

Even for those of us that never consider taking our own lives…every day we have to make the choice to live. I believe that you can be alive and not live. I know this because I’ve done that. When I was overweight and depressed…I was just existing. People tease me because I have so many pictures of myself with friends and family these days. It seems narcissistic…and the irony is that I really hate having my picture taken…but there is a reason I take so many pictures now.

There are vacations and YEARS of my children’s lives where I am missing from all of the pictures. The few pictures that we have are just painful reminders of a very sad time in my life…a time I would like to forget…but also a time that is important to remember. You see, I could go see doctors…or be given anything I wanted…or be surrounded by people that loved me…or take medication…but NONE of that would help me live. I had to make the decision each and every day to get out of the bed I wanted to hide in and put one foot in front of the other. I had to choose to continue to be a good Mom. I had to choose not to cry every time I wanted to. I had to choose to rebuild myself, because NO ONE could do it for me.

The choices I made along the way and the journey that I took as I set out to “fix” myself, made me a different person…the person I am today. I made all the choices…and I did all the hard work…but there were people that unknowingly helped me along the way too. I learned that failing does not make me a failure. It means I get to keep trying until I get it right. I learned to not take myself so seriously…to laugh at myself. I learned that things don’t make people happy…and neither do people…real happiness comes from within. I learned to stop saying “I can’t.” and to do things that are hard for me…things that don’t come naturally. I learned that pain is always temporary and that working through it, is much easier than fighting it. I learned that a strong, healthy body helps make a strong, healthy mind, and I learned that the unlikeliest of people can become friends and touch each other’s lives in ways that the other may never know.

As hard as that time was for me and my family…and as much as I’d like to say I wish it never happened…I’m glad that it did because I learned how to make that choice. I learned to say “I want to live.” and I am so much better because of it.

The fact is…life is hard…and living is not always an easy choice to make. Things happen…natural disasters occur…people we love die or go away…we get hurt physically and emotionally…we face trials that can bring us to our knees. Sometimes we don’t know how to make things better because sometimes we can’t make things better…but no matter what we lose….we never lose our ability to choose how we will react…what we will do when faced with these choices…”yes or no…in or out…up or down…love or hate…to be a hero or to be a coward…to fight or give in…to live or die”.

..."cLoSuRe"...

2010-03-29T23:10:00.000-05:00

The last day of school...the last bite...the last breath...the last line in a story...the last kiss...there are lots of "lasts" in life...lots of endings. Sometimes we expect them. We are prepared...ready...accepting. We move on to a new beginning and never look back.

Other times endings are unexpected...unwanted. We are surprised...sad...maybe even angry. We are left desperately wanting for something that we know we can never have again. We search endlessly for an answer that either does not exist or that we don't really want to hear.

I've thought a lot about "closure" lately. I ask myself what it is or if it even exists. I feel as though I need it in the same way that I need air to breathe...like without it...I cannot really be alive. Other times I simply lust after it...knowing that I can go on without it...but craving it just the same.

I have always thought of "closure" as a band aid of sorts...something to put on a wound to help it feel better while it heals. Unfortunately, there's not a band aid that works for every "hurt". Sometimes the cut is too deep and it requires more time and attention than what a band aid can provide. There are things we face in life that cannot be healed with a simple answer...or with a "reason"...or even an apology...because even when we put a band aid on a cut...the cut is still underneath and it takes time to heal...and so it is the same with us.

If I am truly honest with myself, I have come to realize that for me personally...closure is not always an end. Closure is just a catch phrase...a word that I have used as an excuse...an excuse to hold on to situations or things that I have lost...or people that I did not want to let go of. I am not good at good-byes or new beginnings. I do not like last times.

It doesn't matter what I do...or who I talk to...or how many times I replay the events leading up to an unwanted ending...I never truly feel a sense of what people refer to as closure. I muddle through and I bide my time and eventually...the piercing pain fades to a dull ache that's hardly noticeable...and the regret turns into a lesson learned.

...bEhoLd tHe pOwEr oF sPaNdEx......

2010-03-26T18:32:00.004-05:00

If "music calms the savage beast" and "a picture is worth a thousand words" then I would argue that "spandex pants can change the world"...or at least cause some sort of ruckus!

The other day, I stopped off at Walmart to grocery shop after working at the gym. I was...of course...in workout clothes. I knew I'd get a few looks, but I didn't think it would be too bad. I mean I was totally covered up. There was no tummy showing...and my boobs were nicely contained IN my tank top.

Now...I have been teased before at the gym about my tight pants. In fact, a couple of years ago, a guy from the gym joked on Halloween that he had the perfect costume. He said he could go as me, because it would be so easy. I said, "How is that easy?!?!" He said, "All I need is a blonde wig and some skin tight spandex pants!" I said, "PUH-LEAZZZZ! You also need lipgloss!!!" and we all died laughing.

So back to the present...grocery shopping at the red neck hell hole known as Walmart... I walked in w my sister, K, on my cell phone. Sometimes I can be so codependent! I didn't wanna grocery shop alone so I talked to her the whole time on the phone. I'd shop...complain about how bad I hate to grocery shop...chat about random things...and then ever so often I'd say "What is WRONG with these people?!?!" She'd reply, "What? What happened?". I said, "This man and woman are staring at me like I'm NAKED! What is their problem? I'm fully clothed in a tank top, with a thin jacket hanging open, capri pants and flip flops!" The same cycle would repeat...over and over and over again.

300$ later...I headed to my car...STILL on the phone with my sister...loaded all my groceries up and headed home. When I got there, we hung up, and K came out to help me carry all the bags in. I hopped out, grabbed some bags , and headed in the house with her behind me. All the sudden I hear my sister say, "LADY!!! I've had to listen to you talk about people staring...stopping conversations to stare...and all around making fools of themselves and you wonder why?!?!" I said, "WHAT?!?! It's only workout clothes." Her hands went to her hips and laughing she said, "LOOK AT THE PANTS YOU'RE WEARING! Those are tight and look hot!" I laughed and said, "Laaaaaaaaa! (as if the angels were singing) BEHOLD! THE POWER OF SPANDEX!" and we cracked up laughing as we carried the rest of my groceries in.

Later that night...after my last class at work...STILL wearing the same pants...I met my husband and kids for dinner. After a few similar experiences, it was then that I decided that these pants hold some serious power. Superman may have super human strength. The Invisible Woman may be able to disappear, and Spiderman may be able to climb walls and shoot webs, but they got nothin on me and my spandex pants. I was able to make people's heads move...stop conversations...confuse one guy to the point of speechlessness...and control people's thoughts...all with a small pair of pants! BEHOLD! THE POWER OF SPANDEX!

...i aiN't tOuChiN nObOdY's dAddY's hYeNa...

2010-03-23T09:55:00.012-05:00

I'm not a morning person...never have been...never will be. Many times, my kids' alarms go off before mine and I have them "trained" to get up to their own alarms and get ready for school on their own. If I'm not working, I stumble out of my room wearing whatever clothes I can find...just in time to load kids up and start shuttling them to their different schools. Yesterday was no different. I stumbled out looking like a hot mess and backed up to the counter to sit down and say "Good morning.". That wasn't what I said. I parked my tight butt on the counter and instead yelled "OH S***!"

I am forgetful. I can be a blonde airhead at times...but in all the years that my three children have been in school I have NEVER forgotten a major school project...until yesterday. My son J was suppose to turn in a LIFE SIZE replica of a hyena...THAT DAY...the first day back to school after Spring Break. There were 30 seconds of jumbled panicked thoughts. They ranged everywhere from "Oh well...it's only 2nd grade...we can turn it in a day late...take the bad grade and move on! I mean what? Are they gonna hold him back because we didn't get a ****ing hyena turned in on time?!?!"...to "I am the WORST mother ever! Why did I have so much fun last week?!? WAAH! WAAH! Poor me!"...to "What is wrong with that teacher?!?! Why did she make the project due THE DAY after Spring Break?!?! What if we had traveled?!?" (We didn't by the way)...to "SNAP OUT OF MC! Get a hold of yourself!!!" I did....snap out of it...and I hatched a brilliant, blonde plan.

I took everyone to school...except J. I said, "J! Look at me." He did. I said, "Tell me you don't feel well." He said, "Huh?" I said, "Just say it. Say 'I don't feel well'!" He did. I said, "Good..now when I write a note to the school tomorrow to say 'Please excuse J's absence. He woke up and told me he didn't feel well' it won't be a lie...not technically any ways." I know. I know..I'll repent later. So anyways, J stayed home for an "extra day off"...so we could "give birth to a hyena"...so to speak.

Now while it was of upmost importance to get his project done, we had to handle first things first. That meant going up to the gym I work at so I could workout first...because if momma doesn't workout...momma's not happy...and momma can't produce a hyena when she's unhappy. After my workout, my friend/owner of the gym...JR...asked what J was doin home from school. I recited the entire story as he smiled...chuckled...and shook his head. I lamented about how large hyenas are and how bad it was gonna suck to come up with a life sized replica...and that's when everything took a momentary turn from kooky..to hilarious. The conversation went something like this:

JR: "Do you know how BIG hyenas are?" (side note...JR's Dad is an avid hunter and has traveled to Africa for big game hunting several times and has a house full of exotic, stuffed animals)

ME: "Uh...YEAH! They are at the smallest about 30 inches tall and 4 feet in length!!!"

JR: "Hey! My Dad has a stuffed hyena at his house if you wanna use it."

ME: (laughing) "Uh, I don't think that's what they had in mind when they assigned this project...and I doubt your Daddy wants a bunch of grubby little kids touchin all over his hyena!" (still laughing)

JR: (still serious...and also blonde by the way) "Yeah...I guess it does weigh about 150 lbs too...but you can go out to the house and touch it and sketch it if you want to!"

ME: (trying to contain myself) "Oh thanks JR. That is so nice, but I don't want to inconvenience them and we have pictures off the internet. We'll be fine."

A few hours later, I sat at lunch with J...still hyena-less...and my Mom and sister recounting the events of the morning and talking about hyenas and how funny my conversation with JR had been. I said, "Can you imagine the look on J's teacher's snippy face if I backed a truck in and brought a real stuffed hyena in on a dolly?!?!" We all laughed and then in true blonde form I said, "I mean I'm not tryin to touch anybody's Daddy's hyena!"...a little too loud...as if no one were around...right as the waitress walked up to check on us. She walked away looking perplexed...and we all died laughing...like a pack of hyenas! ~This ain't yo Daddy's hyena...this is Momma MC's hyena! (And yes..it's pitiful...but it's done!)~

...aiN't nOtHiN LiKe tHe rEaL tHinG bAbY...

2010-03-14T22:15:00.001-05:00

Have you ever wanted something so bad that you were willing to do practically anything to get it? I think we've ALL had something that we wanted but felt we couldn't have. I know that I have felt this many times in my life. At times, it's been a thing...a purse...or a piece of jewelry. Other times it was a feeling...love...or passion...maybe even peace. Sometimes it's been a person...a friend...a love. I have found that if people want something or someone bad enough...they will find a way to get it...or at least convince themselves that they have.If a girl wants a Gucci purse, but doesn't have thousands of dollars for an authentic handbag...she can purchase a knock-off for a fraction of the cost. Some of these replica bags are so close to the real thing that the average person could not tell the difference even upon close inspection. When we crave satisfaction or love...and we can't seem to find it in the right places...it is easy to trick ourselves into believing that we can find it somewhere else. We replace true happiness...true love...with something that is not real...something easy...fake. We confuse physical pleasure with love...and laughter with happiness. It sometimes forces us to keep moving from one event...or party...or location continuously...because if we stop...we will have to face what it is that we are missing. When the person we want doesn't love us or when a relationship fails, we can search out an alternate to help us forget...to mask the loneliness and regret. We can even chose a substitute...a body double if you will...one with the same color hair and eyes...a similar build...and convince ourselves that THIS is what we really wanted all along.The problem is that even if NO ONE ELSE knows the difference...we do. We can only pretend for so long. Every time that girl carries her knock off bag, she will wonder if anyone else can tell that it's not real. When the physical pleasure subsides and the laughter ends...we are tired...and the heartache and grief return. When we look into the eyes of the replacement that we have chosen...even if they are the same color...we know deep down that they are not really the person that we want.The best things in life are not easy to come by. It takes work...sacrifice...and humility to get what it is that we really want. Sometimes we have to sacrifice and save to get that purse. Sometimes we have to make difficult choices and forgo temporary fun for lasting happiness. Sometimes we have to wait...patiently...even when it's hard...and fight the urge to give up on something or someone. Sometimes we have to be willing to give more than we receive...to forgive...to shun temptation...so we can be with the person that we know will truly make us happy and not one that just distracts us and helps us forget. Knock offs may be cheap and substitutes may come easy, but there ain't nothin like the real thing baby! Do what it takes...make the tough decisions...take a leap of faith to get what or who it is that you really want. In the end, you'll be glad you did.

...A bEaUtiFuL mEsS...

2010-03-11T00:04:00.017-06:00

I love art. In fact, I was an Art History major for a period of time in college. This did not make my Dad happy, but I just loved looking at art...for hours...memorizing the names of paintings...staring at the colors and lines...seeing the world through another person's eyes and through different perspectives. I don't have one particular style or period or artist that is my favorite. While there are some artists that do not appeal to me as much as others...I can see the beauty in many different pieces.

Some artists are familiar even to people that have never studied art...their pieces easily recognizable. Picasso is just one of a handful I can think of. While he is not one of my favorite artists, I am truly fascinated by many of his pieces. I look at some of them and I see all the parts of the face and body...jumbled...in the wrong place. I find some odd...confusing to my eyes...but I never see them as ugly. In their own way, they are beautiful. It's almost as if they are so wrong...they are right. I feel similarly about Monet. While I think Monet's paintings are probably more universally appealing, it's always been amazing to me how something that looks so beautiful from afar, can look like such a mess up close...at least to me it does. All the random colors and brush strokes up close create a beautiful picture...if you don't look too closely.

I was laying in bed the other night...it was very late...and dark...I couldn't sleep. I could hear my husband breathing...asleep...and I was feeling a little like a Picasso and even more like a Monet myself. I started to think about all the things I don't like about myself...all my physical imperfections. I was lying there wishing that I didn't just have a good body, but a perfect body...thinking about the days when I had no wrinkles...wondering what it would be like to be perfect...to have a tiny, straight nose...to be beautiful...in a classic, "Barbie" kind of way. I mused at how perfect I sometimes seem from afar...what an illusion my life has become...when really, if you look closely...I'm a mess and about as far from perfect as one could be. When you walk in my house, you see expensive custom curtains with fancy fringe and tassels...lots of decorations...everything looks perfect...but if you look in my drawers or my closets...it's a complete disaster. People that see me when I am out and about, think that I am confident...that nothing bothers me. I laugh when I want to cry. I say "Who cares!" when I DO care. I wear fake nails to cover the ones that I would bite if I didn't. I always have just the right accessories...the right jewelry...belt...shoes so that I am perfectly put together...from afar...but really...I'm sort of a mess when you get closer. I wondered what it would be like to really be as strong as I appear...to be as confident and happy as people think I am.

As I sat down to write about these feelings that I have been struggling with internally...not really sure what direction I was going...it came to me. There is no one, classic kind of beauty...and there is no one kind of perfection. I have spent a lifetime chasing perfection...always feeling like I fall short. I am realizing that I already am what I have been chasing. I may not be flawless. I may not be as confident as I would like...or as organized as I should be...or as happy as I seem all the time...but I AM perfect in my own way. Just because people can see that I have flaws when they look at me up close, doesn't mean I am bad or worth less than other people. Just because my nose is a little crooked, doesn't make me ugly. Just because I'm not as perfect as I look from afar...doesn't make me jumbled and wrong. I am a one of a kind...a priceless work of art in my own way. And even if I am a bit of a mess...I am a beautiful mess...perfect in my own perfections...and that is okay.

...yOu gOttA LaUGh wHeN yOu'Re tHe jOkE...

2010-03-04T23:32:00.009-06:00

It was a beautiful day and my car was filthy, so I decided to go through the car wash on my way home from the gym. When the wash was done and the green light lit up, I pulled forward and parked so I could dry off my car. I put my cell phone down and hopped out...wearing what I wore to the gym...tight capris with a low waist and a tank with a fitted long sleeve t shirt over the top. I would expect a few looks normally, but today I had the car wash all to myself. No one else was around. I could hear the music from inside the car as I walked around back to open the back hatch of my SUV to get out the shammy I use to dry my car off after I wash it each time.

I am a creature of habit. I do things the same way every time. Drying my car off is no exception. I thought it was unusual that the car wash was so barren on such a beautiful, sunny day. There was not another person there...not that I could see. I methodically dried my car off...one section at a time...before ringing the shammy out so I could continue on to the next section...listening to the music...intent on what I was doing. I felt like I was in my own little world and paid no attention to my surroundings because I thought I was alone. I was almost done and so I did what I always do last. I bent over to dry off the running boards. Normally I crouch down, but my lower back is kind of hurting today from the lifting I did in the gym yesterday and my knees are feeling the effects of the running I did in the afternoon. It's uncomfortable if I move or bend in certain directions, so I took a wide stance and leaned over keeping my back flat and knees straight. "Perfect." I thought..."No pain."...and then I felt it. It's that feeling that everyone has felt...the feeling that someone is watching you. Before I could stand and look, I heard a noise. I don't know why I did it, but without thinking I stuck my head down between my legs and looked through my legs to see what the noise was.There they were...three mechanics from the shop behind the car wash...standing in a line...arms crossed...watching my every move. I saw one nudge the other with his elbow while his arms were still crossed...raising his eyebrows. There was no shame in their game...at all. They were there to watch and they did not hide it. I must have had a funny look of shock on my face because one of the men said, "It's ok honey...just keep doing what you're doing!"

First lemme just say "EWWWWW!" and second, lemme explain a little something about me. I do not always say the right thing or react in the way that I should. I have done and said things that leave ME shaking my OWN head asking "What was I thinking?!?!?" I have also been known to laugh at completely INAPPROPRIATE times...like yesterday when I crashed my car into my husband's car damaging BOTH cars! I can't help it. It's like a nervous tick or something. So instead of reacting with digust...instead of cussing them out like I probably should have...what did I do??? I laughed...like a crazy person. Fortunately, I was done and so I stood up, put the shammy away and started to drive out of the parking lot. As I did, I glanced over to see the ring leader of the three guys wink and give me a double point as if he was holding guns or something.

At that point, I burst into hysterical laughter...not because it's okay for men to behave that way...or because I wanted that type of attention...but I laughed because it was just so crazy. Life is what you make it. I learned a long time ago that when I encountered situations that were less than desirable...when I had a bad day...or things went wrong...I have a choice. I can laugh or I can cry my way through this crazy life of mine. Some days it's easier to laugh than others. Today was one of those days. Today I felt like a caricature of myself...a joke...and sometimes you just gotta laugh when you're the joke.

...i aM nO bRee vAn dE kAmP!!!...

2010-03-01T08:21:00.023-06:00

I don't iron shirts. In fact, I don't even drive them to the cleaners. Around here, they get sent out. A nice man in a green van drives up and takes them away every Monday morning. I don't cook much. I can cook. It's quite tasty when I do. Unfortunately I do not enjoy it..and when I do cook...it's usually not from "scratch". Every plant inside my home is fake. If they were real, I assure you they would die because I would not talk to them or even water them occasionally. As for the outside...well...it's hit or miss..but one thing is for sure...you won't find me patiently caring for hydrangeas or any other type of plant that requires special care. I do pull any weeds that crop up in my flower beds and I do plant low maintenance flowers each season but as you might guess...I don't usually plan it or go out in Crocs and gardening gloves. If I happen to see some weeds, I go over and pull them out...usually in heels and blingy jeans. As for the grass, I pay another nice man to come in his truck and mow my lovely green yard (thank God for sprinkler systems and TruGreen ChemLawn!) each week. When a new neighbor moves in, I do not knock on the door with a perfect basket of home baked goodies. Nope...not me...I smile my most friendly smile and I wave my most inviting wave. I am certainly NO Bree Van de Kamp. That is for certain!

Some people will read this and think "Who does she think she is?" or "What a lazy person?" or "What is she so proud of? What kind of housewife is she?!?" Frankly...I'm OVER hearing this crap...so...I'll tell you who I am myself. I am my own person. I have a good heart and I do things my way. I say, "So what if someone else irons my husband's shirt? THAT...does not make me less of a wife to him." I say "Who cares whether or not I cook or we eat out?!?" No one in my family has ever missed a meal or gone hungry...and you know what??? When I cook, they appreciate it.

I am not lazy. I go from the moment I wake up until the time I go to sleep. I may not be doing what other Moms are doing...I may be lifting a barbell rather than volunteering at the school and gossiping in the copy room...but that does not make me lazy.

I am proud of the fact that after many years of unhappy service to my family...years that left me depressed and overweight...I made a change. I hired people to do the things that were stressing me out or that I didn't do well. I took back my life. I added MYSELF to the list of people that I was caring for on a daily basis. I became confident and strong. I got healthy and decided to help other people do the same. I am proud that by making myself happy...I became a BETTER wife and mother...a happy wife and mother instead of a sad, beat down, resentful wife and mother.

I am a housewife that goes to the grocery store in tight jeans and heels. I am a housewife that loads my kids in my SUV and meets my husband with a kiss and a smile at whatever restaurant it is we decide to eat at. And ladies...he's ALWAYS glad to see me...and ALWAYS proud to be seen with me. I am a housewife that buys cookies at the store when my kids are asked to bring them to a party. I am a housewife that treads carefully on the soccer field so my heels don't dig into the dirt. I am a housewife that asked for a gun rather than a Kitchen-Aid mixer for Christmas. I am a housewife that says no thanks to the drama of PTA, but enjoys an occasional lunch with my kids at school and takes pictures at all class parties. I am a housewife. I may not be like everyone else. but that's okay.

I am well aware of the fact that not everyone has the ability to eat out all the time or hire help. I realized how blessed I am. Unfortunately, that is all that people see...the outside...the nice car and the hours spent working out...the high heels on the soccer field...and they judge me...harshly. No one sees the other side. They say things like "I can't imagine YOU going grocery shopping!" or "You don't need a nanny to help you because you don't have an "important" job!". Well, folks...guess what? I do more things than you think. I just do them a little differently and that makes me the kind of housewife I WANT to be. I am a housewife that can enjoy my children and laugh with them because I'm not so stressed by all the dumb little details of how to cook the perfect pot roast. I am a housewife that does not have to call my husband and cry and demand he come home early from work because I am overworked and stressed with my kids. I can call to say "Hi. How are you today?" instead. I am a housewife that knows that I cannot really love and take care of my family the way I want to if I don't love and take care of myself first...and if that involves getting a pedicure instead of preparing dinner and coming home happy...then so be it. There is a reason they always tell you on airplanes that if there's an emergency, you should put your OWN mask on first, THEN help those around you.

I don't expect everyone to be like me...and I am in no way perfect. Ask my family...they will tell you I'm not. However...this is a BIG however...I am in no way putting down women that choose the more traditional role of housewife. If cooking, gardening, PTA, ballerina flats, and ponytails are your thing...if that makes you happy...then by all means spend your days at the elementary school, your evenings cooking delicious meals made from scratch, and rock that ponytail and flats. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

I guess my point is that there is not ONE definition for housewife. It is different for different people and I'm done apologizing for the way I do things. I've been put down, talked about, and even resigned from PTA positions because I was tired of being whispered about and judged...all because I am different. It use to make me feel really bad, but what I have learned over the years is this: it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. If my husband and my children are happy...if I know that I am doing my best and I am happy...then anyone that has a problem with that can kiss my small, toned, tan butt! I don't need to be Bree Van de Kamp...I am happy to be me.

...30 sEcONds...

2010-02-26T13:25:00.005-06:00

Loud, angry music is blaring. Between songs there is a melody of grunts and groans...heavy breathing...and intermittent cursing. I'm holding a stopwatch...counting down...saying "Hold on! You can do it! Only 30 more seconds! You can do ANYTHING for 30 seconds!!!" I get a few desperate and angry looks and then all of the sudden...it's over. The seconds have passed and the stopwatch is stopped. The hard work and pain are over. The struggle and the yells are replaced with sighs of relief and smiles. This is a common occurrence in the gym I work at. I see it almost everyday. Almost everything we do is about time...about seeing who can go further faster...or who can reach the destination first. Every minute...every second counts.

Sometimes it's painful. I know this because I'm not always on that side of the stopwatch. Many times, I am the one suffering...struggling to finish right alongside everyone else. Somedays are more difficult than others. Somedays the physical pain is enticing...addictive...almost pleasurable. I enjoy the fight and I feel as though I have "won". Other days it feels like torture...my mind becomes consumed with the fear of not being first...feelings of frustration distract me. The pain can overwhelm me if I allow it to...but no matter what...I don't stop. Giving up is not an option for me in the gym. I tell myself what I tell everyone else..."I can do this. It's only 30 more seconds. Hold on."

There are 86,400 seconds in a day...and everyday...those seconds are filled with many different emotions. Some are filled with laughter. Some are filled with peace. Some are filled with anger...some with disappointment and regret. Some are filled with anticipation and others with happiness. And some...are filled with pain...the worst kind of pain there is...the pain of the heart. This pain is both physical and emotional. It clouds my minds and makes me forget that I am strong. It leaves me gasping for air...breathless...with a lump in my throat. It makes me want to clutch my chest because the stabbing pain in my heart feels so real...so tangible.

I have suffered physical pain in the gym that I never thought I could withstand and I have learned to deal with it...to live in it so to speak...to use it to push myself further...but when it comes to emotional pain...I am weak. And when I have days...like today...where the seconds of pain seem to outnumber the seconds of peace and happiness...I don't want to "live in it". I don't want to push myself to be better...stronger. I want to quit...stop the watch...stick my middle finger in the air and run away. The hard part is that I can't run away from myself...or my thoughts...or memories.

So as bad as I want to...I will never give up...I will never stop. I will do what I tell the brave people that I work with everyday to do. I will hold on...30 seconds at a time...again and again...until finally the pain subsides...and I find myself breathing a sigh of relief...smiling...and enjoying seconds filled with something more pleasant than pain.

...tO giVe iS beTTeR tHaN tO rEcEivE...

2009-11-15T09:00:00.007-06:00

I loved reading books to my kids when they were little...especially in their beds at night. We read lots of the classic fairy tales and had several other favorites that we read often. One of those was "The Giving Tree". While I always admired the tree and her ability to "give" all she had for the boy she so loved...I also always felt sorry for her and related to her in some ways.

They say "it's better to give than to receive". I use to think that was so...and I still think it is many times. However, there are days...like today...when I just feel selfish. When my heart is empty and I'm in need of a little giving myself...a little reciprocation. When I love someone, I love them with everything that I am and I want them to know that. I tell them...often. I'm affectionate. I leave notes. I give gifts. I try my best to be thoughtful and caring. I get a lot of pleasure out of doing these things for the people I love. I've often said that I don't need the same in return...that giving love and seeing the people I love happy, is enough for me. Lately, I'm not so sure about that.

Growing up, there were many times I felt unloved. I wasn't close to my Mom. I knew she loved me, but I always felt like she didn't like me from the time I was small. My Mom never taught me to take up for myself...she never defended me if there was a problem at school. I always felt like I wasn't allowed to say "no"...that people would not like me if I did. She always told me to just take it...to not cause a stir or "rock the boat"...to keep my mouth shut and suffer in silence. Even when something very terrible happened to me, she did not defend me. She allowed me to be hurt in ways that no child should suffer. I have forgiven her and have a relationship with her, but the scars are still there.

I want to feel sorry for myself, but what I realized this morning as I am struggling with disappointment, is that in many ways...I have created this. I set up my relationships this way. I give and don't demand anything in return...at least not in the beginning. I give myself away. It's almost as if I don't feel worthy of what it is that I crave. Then over time...after I have trained people to take from me...I am left feeling empty and miserable. The emptiness and sadness leads to anger and I say things to hurt the very people that I love the most. I push the people away that I need to be the closest to me. I get angry with other people for things that I, myself have created...for my own lack of self respect.

I don't know if it's stupidity or fear or if I am somehow punishing myself...but whatever it is...it has to stop. I have to respect myself before I can expect other people to respect me. I have to take responsibility for what I do and I have to exercise more patience. I have to teach people to treat me with love and respect...and I have to live worthy of that love...or I'll never truly be happy.

...tHe bEsT woRsT tHinG tHaT eVEr hApPenEd tO mE...

2009-08-19T11:13:00.009-05:00

It was the last day of my vacation. I put on my bikini...grabbed my ipod...and headed for the ocean barefoot...ready to take my last walk this summer on the beach. The wind was blowing my hair and the sun was really warm on my shoulders. Most people either come to the island or leave the island on Saturdays. We stayed an extra day, so it was a Sunday. Most people were spending their first day on the beach and I noticed the difference in the way it felt. There was an excitement in the air. It was the first time kids were digging in the sand...the first time umbrellas were being put up...beach toys looked new and clean...most people looked like they could use a tan. It felt good...but it was also a bittersweet moment. While everyone was so happy and excited...I was feeling regret over the fact that my week...my time...was gone.

I was walking along with the sand in my toes...music in my ears and the ocean washing over my feet every time the tide washed in. I was deep in thought when I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look and there were three men standing a little further in...the water was probably up to their knees. They were drinking beer...talking...staring at someone intently. I looked behind me...no one was there...checked both sides...still no one there...and then I realized that it was ME that they were staring at. When I looked back over...they were smiling and I smiled back as I continued to walk. One said, "Hey, how's it goin?" I turned my head their direction, smiled again, and said "Everything is great!"...never stopping. I heard one say to the other, "Damn! This is gonna be a GOOD week!" and I kind of laughed to myself.

I walked a little further...noticing people noticing me. It was strange. I stopped...and walked a little further out to stand for a minute or two. As I stood there, I thought about how very grateful I am to be the person that I have become. I am grateful to be in the best physical shape of my life. I feel and look better than I did at 25 (minus the wrinkles around my eyes). I am stronger than I have ever been...both physically and mentally. I grew up never liking who I was...never feeling pretty...never feeling good enough...never feeling like I was good at anything. I didn't like who I was...which was part of what led me to the place I was at my lowest...200 lbs...hating myself...sad...and hopeless.The journey I took over the year it took me to lose 70 lbs...the people that I met along the way...and the years that have come and gone since have changed me...in every way. I feel like the old me died and a new me was born. I am still haunted by the ghost of who I use to be from time to time. Some days I look in the mirror and I see the old me in my reflection, but I actually can say I like myself now. I will always struggle, but I want to learn to love myself and see myself as others do.

I watched the water and the pelicans diving for breakfast and thought back on the time when I let myself go and fell into such a dark place. I have so many painful memories of that time. I was thinking that in many ways, it was one of the worst things that happened to me...and then it occurred to me. Maybe that was not the worst thing that happened to me. I believe that in many ways it may have been the best thing that ever happened to me. I truly feel that in the past 7 years, I have become the person that I was always meant to be. I have grown and learned things about myself...knocked down walls and faced fears...made some of the best friends I've ever had...and learned what it is that I want to do with my life. At that moment, I came to the realization that gaining and losing the weight, was the best worst thing that ever happened to me. I turned to walk back towards our villa, but I no longer felt sad...I felt thankful...thankful for the time I had in my favorite place doing what I like with people I love...and thankful to be who I am...not by nature or the grace of God...but through my own efforts.

..."i carry your heart with me..."...

2009-04-17T09:03:00.013-05:00

"i carry your heart with me" ~ E.E. Cummings

I once wrote a post about trying to hold grains of sand in your hands...about how difficult that is. The harder you grasp...the more quickly it seems to run through your fingers. Such is the case with many things in life. We want to hold on...to force things to remain the same...but we can't because life is about change...about moving forward.

I have had people come into my life that have forever changed it. One person always comes to mind. I truly consider him to be one of the best friends I have ever had...my "non romantic soulmate". He's gone now. He went from being the person I talked to...confided in...learned from on a daily basis...to being gone. We still talk on the phone every few months, but our once daily texts are distant memories and our e-mails are few and far between. It's funny how you can meet a person and feel like your souls are connected...like you have always known each other or that you are meant to know each other. Sometimes, it's the most unlikely of people that this happens with.

You would think that I would forget...move on. That was what I prayed for in the beginning. I wanted the loneliness and the ache of missing my friend to go away. It has been almost 2 years and the pain has gone from being an unbearable sting to a dull ache...one that is only apparent every now and then...only when I see or hear or remember something about him.

I love E.E. Cummings' poetry. It is unusual and not always easily understandable. They are no rhyming words. There is not even much punctuation in them. For some reason...his poetry speaks to me. My favorite poem is "i carry your heart with me". It is probably his most famous. It's rainy and dark and for some reason, I felt compelled to get out my book of E.E. Cummings' poetry and look at it. I always go to the back of the book and read my favorite first and then I go forward one at a time. It's a strange habit, but I AM a creature of habit so I always do it the same way.

When I read this poem today, I looked up and saw a picture of me and my friend, W, running a 5K together. I looked at the incredible smile on his face that was captured in that moment...as he ran beside me...and I thought of him. I wondered what he's doing...far away...I wondered if he ever thinks about me. It sounds silly but I feel like the pain in my heart is because there is a piece missing...a piece that he will always have. My heart has healed, but there is still a scar. I guess it will always be a little tender. I wondered if he feels the same missing piece that I feel...because in all honesty...I do feel as though I do carry a piece of his heart with me.

I'm able to bear the pain, because he taught me to. He taught me to push past my self imposed limitations and to stop being afraid. Sometimes I feel like I was reborn when I met him...he helped me find my true self...the one that had been buried and hidden. He made me strong...he prepared me to live without him...and so while I still wish he were here...I move forward...and I remind myself that a piece of him is always right here with me...in my heart.

My hope is that anyone who reads this...that may be sad...or missing someone...or feeling that dull ache in their heart...will realize this too. Distance or death or circumstances may separate us...but we always carry a piece of those we care about with us.

..."cUss mOnKeY"...

2009-04-02T11:17:00.001-05:00

I've been sick and today I finally feel good. I usually keep goin when I'm sick, but I had a couple of days that I felt really bad...so bad that I couldn't keep going like I wanted to. I spent a lot of time alone in bed..just me and my thoughts and worries and just over all crazy musings on life in general. I went to put my glass of water on the coaster that is on my nightstand during one of those days and noticed a post it note that my son had stuck there. It said, "I love you, Mom. You are the best Mom ever!" Of course I thought it was incredibly sweet, but it also got me thinkin about what makes a "good Mom".

I'm different than a lot of Moms I know. We eat out a lot. I'm almost ALWAYS in heels. I don't generally sit at home baking cookies and working on PTA functions. I am off running and flipping tires...lifting weights...and doing other things that I enjoy and that I feel will make me an "improved version of myself".

I try hard to be a good, responsible Mom...I really do...and for the most part I succeed in the areas that really matter. I love my kids..and they know it. I tell them often and I am very affectionate towards them physically. I taught them their ABCs and 123s...read them bedtime stories...still tuck them each in every night. They always have food to eat...usually of the restaurant variety...but it's food nontheless...sorta...and they always have a clean house and clean clothes. I can go on and on about birthday parties and family vacations and teaching them to be good moral people, but you get the point. With that being said...I screw up too.

I'm ALWAYS late...to everything...all the time. There have been many times that I was having lunch with my kids at school and I come running around the corner 5 minutes late with a huge purse flopping on my shoulder...3 inch heels...blonde hair flyin...clutching a bag of McDonald's in my french tipped fingers only to see a little child...mine...standing in the cafeteria...waiting...eyes scanning...looking for me. I always tell them, "I'm sorry. I'm always late, but you KNOW I'll ALWAYS be here if I say I will be." They smile and say "I know Mommy." I'm also really forgetful which can lead to a bit of chaos at times...like when you forget a science project until a few days before it's due and you now have to try and find a way to create an project that can be tested and proven practically instantaneously. If I'm getting ready and I need something...it's not uncommon for me to walk out naked to get it...I don't really know how my kids feel about this but it probably is a little strange...especially when I stop to have a conversation with one of them. I'm a passionate person..eventhough in certain circumstances I may seem reserved. I feel things to the extreme and I tend to forget that I'm not in a bubble and that there are in fact other people around...watching me. When I laugh...sometimes it's loud...a "cackle" as my 13 yr old daughter calls it. I do it in the movies...at restaurants...while reading birthday cards in Target. I know it embarrasses my kids at times, but I remind them that I am their Mom and "that's my job!" and unfortunately for them...the embarrassment doesn't always stop there. I've been known to demonstrate workout moves...dance...do impressions...whatever...all "in public".

I guess one of my worst traits is that I cuss. I don't know how it got started or who I got it from, but I affectionately refer to myself as a "Cuss Monkey". I don't drop "f bombs" but there are cuss words that I just tend to use...a lot. My oldest child is what I like to call a "straight arrow" so I know I shock her and probably disappoint her at times. She's JUST LIKE her dad. It's black and white. It almost seems easier for them to do the "right thing"...the "appropriate thing" than it is to be human and screw up like the rest of us. I live in multiple shades of grey. My mouth gets me in trouble and sometimes...many times...I forget to filter what I say. If I stub my toe...you WILL hear "S***!"

My husband doesn't cuss...opposites attract right? It drives him crazy that I do. I don't think it bothers him so much when a word flies out if I stub my toe...what he hates is when I use a cuss word as a descriptive word or even as a noun. For example, let's take one of my most used words...B****. I use it in place of woman...girl...wife. When I was mad about an issue that I was having with a friend, I said to my husband..."He needs to get his b**** under control!" If I'm leaving my sisters, I may say "Bye bye b****es!" If I wanna pass someone going to slow on the highway, it's "Move b****! Get out the way! Get out the way! Get out the way, b****!" I don't mean it in a disrespectful way...I even talk about myself this way. Just yesterday, I was getting ready and when I slipped my favorite tight jeans on and my new sexy leopard heels on...I asked my husband "How do I look?"...he said, "You look great!"...I replied, "I am one hot b**** today! Aren't I?!?" I found it to be terribly funny...threw my head back and laughed ("cackled") My husband didn't join in...instead he said, "You know I hate that word."

So, I do my best not to be completely inappropriate in front of my kids...and I TRY not to let the cuss words fly...but inevitably it happens from time to time. My kids love me for who I am and for the most part are entertained by my craziness...but I do worry from time to time if being a "cuss monkey" makes me a bad Mom...because try as I might...I don't know that I'll ever get THIS monkey off my back.

...caLLiNg pHoTo sHoP!...wE nEEd sOmE heLp hErE!...

2009-03-11T08:22:00.006-05:00

So in my last post, I featured these SUPER cute Betsey Johnson swimsuits. I never could find a good pic of the black and white one. The model is so uber skinny and has such a long body, that it doesn't show just how sexy the suit is. I REALLY want this suit...the problem is that the top is $118.00...yes...JUST the top...and the bottoms are $76.00. That's mucho dinero for a freakin swimsuit! So I decided to search online...

Unfortunately, when it's a "designer" item...it pretty much costs the same everywhere. I came upon a site and clicked on the close up for the top. I heard myself say "Ewwwww!!!!!" I didn't notice it in the initial picture I posted last time...but close up...this girl needs a shave! Click on the pic, and look at her armpit!

We live in a world where we are so warped because everywhere we look...there's airbrushed..."photo shopped"...visions of perfection! Even knowing this...it's hard to ever feel good enough...at least for me...but seeing this picture today was a reminder that most of the time...when the "proofer" doesn't fall down on the job...it's all an illusion!

...i tHinK i hAd a bReAktHroUgH!...

2009-03-05T17:33:00.007-06:00

I write about it ALL the time (especially on my other blog)...I've written about how I struggle to see the same reflection in the mirror that others see...about how I never feel like I look good enough. Needless to say, "swimsuit weather" gets me a little nervous. I start to worry about how I'll look on the beach and I pick myself apart and expect perfection. When people stare at the beach, I get really uncomfortable and anxious because I assume it's a BAD thing. Yep...can you say "issues"?

So anyway, today I was at the mall and these 2 bikinis caught my eye as I walked by...actually they didn't just catch my eye...they lassoed me and drug me over to them. They were so unusual...sooooo cute. I wanted to try them on but I was thinking, "Maybe this isn't such a good idea...what if they look 'bad' and then I'm all depressed and down on myself for the rest of the day?". Being the masochist that I am...I grabbed the 2 suits and went in to the fitting room.What happened next was really strange. I put one on...and I like it. I mean, I didn't JUST like the suit...I liked ME IN the suit! Hmmm....musta been a fluke or somethin...I put the other one on...that happened to be yellow...and was thinkin..."WOW! I look good!"...to borrow a phrase from stylist extraordinaire Rachel Zoe...I looked "BANANAS!" (that's a really good thing)

I liked THIS top with the bottoms below (wasn't feelin a skirt!Okay so the point of all this is NOT to brag or tell everyone how good I looked. It's not to prove that hard work pays off. It's to prove that maybe I can be cured of the way I've been towards myself in the past...okay and the present...maybe I CAN start to see myself the way everyone else does in the future. I think I had a little breakthrough today!

*and just for the record...I filled that suit out much better than that skinny minnie model on top! ;)

...aM i jUsT aN aCCeSSoRy?...

2009-02-22T22:32:00.002-06:00

I love accessories. I have 3 plaques that each have 4 hooks on them in my closet just for belts. Brown belts with gold buckles...brown belts with silver buckles...animal print belts in both zebra and leopard spots...black belts with diamond studs...black belts with a plain silver buckle...fancy belts in differing colors...belts that go with everything...belts specific to one single outfit...I have a lot of belts. It is the same with jewelry. I love big chunky "cocktail" rings and I have tons of different colored bracelets and necklaces. Some are practical...most are not. And shoes...Let me just say that NOT including flip flops...I have well over 100 pairs. Then there's all my purses...

I once had my brother who doubles as my "handyman" come over to hang long plaques with hooks on them all along the walls of my closet for my belts and purses. Everytime I would hand him another one, he'd say, "Are you kidding me?!? ANOTHER one?!?" Then at one point he started calling me a "hooker"! I was offended until I figured out that he was referring to all my hooks and not my platforms and stillettos...then I laughed!

Accessories are great. They do so much. Sometimes it's strictly utilitarian. If our pants won't stay up, we put on a belt. We put shoes on to protect our feet. A purse carries important items we need to take with us. Sometimes it all fluff. I can't think of a single reason to wear half of the big, chunky cocktail rings I like to wear on my "pointer finger"...other than maybe in the place of brass knuckles if I come upon an attacker. I will say that I NEVER go without accessories. I have to have at the very least a cute belt and earrings. The plainest outfit can be made "special" with the right jewelry and shoes. I realize that I don't have to have accessories...they are not necessary...they are extra...the "icing on the cake".

The other day I was kinda feeling like an accessory. I was feeling like I don't add any real substance or importance to anyone or anything in my life. Sometimes I feel like everything that people like about me is all "fluff"...all glitter and rhinestones...nice...fun...pretty to look at...but not necessary or essential. It started to really get me down...because I wallowed in those thoughts ...because I LET it get me down. It effected many areas of my life. It worried me. I wondered..."What if I stop looking the way I do?"..."What if I stop always agreeing to help out when it's inconvenient?"..."Would people still love me?...like me?...need me around?"

The more I have thought about this...the more I have realized that I should not feel this way...I should not worry or feel ashamed of who I am. So what if I'm not always serious...so what if I make mistakes...so what if I wear lipstick and cute clothes to the gym...so what if my appearance is what draws some people in. I am still important...needed. Sometimes my silly ways make hard times bearable. My mistakes...they make me human...real...they make it easy for me to forgive others' mistakes. My lipstick and tight pants prove that looks can be deceiving...that you don't have to look like a man to work hard and be strong. Lastly, my appearance may draw some people in, but my heart is what keeps them close. I may be an accessory at times...but I'm still important. I am the belt that people need to keep their pants up...I just happen to have "rhinestones and leopard spots" too...and I actually think that's pretty cool. I may not be ordinary...I may not always appear to be necessary at first glance...but I know in my heart that I am. I may sparkle and shine...I may not match everything that I stand next to...but I am NOT just an accessory. I am much more.

...do iT...aLL tHe tiMe...

2009-02-14T23:03:00.003-06:00

A bouquet of flowers on a random Tuesday...a love note under a pillow for no reason other than the sender really feels the words written...good dinner and pleasant conversation in a nice restaurant after a hectic day full of pressure...a compliment just because...expressing love at the moment that one is FEELING the emotion...these things are precious and sincere. So why is it that we save these things for one day a year? It seems like it becomes a chore and loses it's authenticity when we do so.

I'm not one to hate Valentine's Day. Even when I was single and without a special someone and the day would roll around...I never hated it...but many people do. I had a conversation with a man I was training at the gym on Friday when I was telling him about my plans for Valentine's Day with my husband.

HIM: "I hate Valentine's Day. After three years together, my fiance is finally getting used to me not doing anything..."

ME: "I know...I DO find it dumb that we have a day where we are all under pressure to give gifts nd shower each other with affirmations of our love. It almost doesn't seem authentic...like why do we have to do something every year on the same day...something that we should be doing..."

HIM: "...(interrupting) We should be doing it EVERY day!...not just once a year!"

After our conversation, I got to thinking about this. I wondered, "Why is it that we feel the need to help those less fortunate at Christmas? Why do we feel compelled to want to feed the homeless on Thanksgiving? Why do we give gifts and affirm our love on Valentine's Day? Why do holidays bring out the desire to do things that we should already be doing? Why is it human nature to be stingy with compliments? Why can't we just say it? do it? Why can't we train ourselves to be more giving in every way...all the time?"

...sOmEtHiN diFFeReNt aBoUt yOu...

2009-02-09T09:13:00.005-06:00

I am one of six children...two boys and four girls. We don't have the MOST dysfunctional family...but there are some..."issues" from time to time. We have a little of everything between all of us...and we all definitely fall into roles. We have the crazy one (HER description of herself, not mine)...the hyper, funny one...the perfect one...the nice, quiet one that never asks for anything...the wild child...and the brainiac baby. Now obviously there's a lot more to each of us than just those brief descriptions...but I do think that it is so interesting how we tend to behave according to what is expected of us.

I'm the "perfect one" in that list from above...except I'm not really perfect...no where near in fact. I'm late all the time...I speak before I think...I worry too much...I eat too much sugar...etc etc etc...but I am married and have been for a long time. I have 3 beautiful, smart kids. My husband is successful...a partner at an investment fund. I live in a big nice house, and I never ask for anything from anyone. I almost always have my makeup just so...my hair styled...matching jewelry... and nice clothes...including some sort of high heel and tight jeans. I think really it's that I'm the most predictable...I have the most "traditional", conservative life.

I guess I had forgotten just how much my friends and family have come to expect certain things from me...even down to the way I dress. I went to my parents' house for our weekly Sunday dinner a few weeks ago. As I stood by the dining room table preparing my kids plates, my two brothers were watching me (1 older and 1 younger). A funny conversation ensued.

OLDER BRO: "Hey C! (younger bro) Do you notice something different about MC?"

YOUNGER BRO: (generally very quiet) "Ummm...no...not really."

OLDER BRO: "Look at her! There's something really different...unusual today..."

YOUNGER BRO: blank stare

ME: (becoming paranoid) "What?!?! Y'all better not be makin fun of me! Seriously! Do I look weird?"

OLDER BRO: "No..." (mischievous smile) "Look at her C!

YOUNGER BRO: "I don't know....what?"

OLDER BRO: "She's wearing loose pants!"

We all burst into laughter because it really is strange. I just so happened to be wearing some "boyfriend style" loose jeans instead of my normal tight jeans. I never wear them but I was wanting to be comfy and I just threw them on since we were just going to my Mom and Dad's house. Everyone teases me about my tight pants...the ones I wear to the gym...my jeans...whatever...but that's not really the point of this...it's really more of an illustration of a deeper concept.I just find it so interesting how we label and categorize people. We want them to look and behave in a certain way...the way we know them. It makes change difficult. I think that's why it's hard for us to be happy for people when they lose weight or get a better job or get a makeover or anything that changes the way a person looks or feels about themselves. I think it scares us. We become comfortable with the persona we create for each person. I also think that it causes us to step back and take a look at ourselves and wonder if there are things that we don't like about ourselves that we could improve...or even things that we hide because we are afraid how people will react if they know who we really are.

I'm stepping back...and I'm gonna look long and hard at the people I love in my life. I'm gonna take the time to see past the labels and roles they play and find more. Labels are just sticky distractions that keep us from seeing what's behind them. I'm gonna start peelin em off of others and myself. Who knows what I'll find...

...aDriFt aT sEa...

2009-02-03T21:32:00.003-06:00

"How can a few simple lines...read aloud...in a public place...make me want to cry? How can a person come into my life for such a short time and and leave such a lasting impression? How can some of the people that I love so much...hurt me so bad? How can I be so strong...yet so fragile? How can I laugh on the outside when I'm sobbing on the inside? How can I believe so deeply...and still have questions?"

I have started about five different posts over the past week. I have been unable to complete a single one. I feel adrift at sea. I cannot seem to convey the way I feel like I usually can. I am distracted. I feel blank...conflicted. I'm not quite sure what the point of all this is, but these are the thoughts in my head that weigh heavy on my heart today. I sometimes wonder if I am alone...I wonder, "Do other people have the kinds of thoughts I am having?".

I know I will be okay. I wanna cry when I read certain words because those words touch my heart. My life has been touched because I broke down walls and trusted. I can be hurt because I have a heart...because I care. I can be both strong and fragile because I'm working everyday to face my fears and become the strong person I want to be. I laugh on the outside when I am sad on the inside because I WANT to be happy in spite of any struggles or hurt that I may encounter. I can believe and question because that is what life is about. I may feel adrift and conflicted...but I will be okay and I will find my way back to shore.

a "MILF"?!?...wHo mE?...

2009-01-29T20:53:00.009-06:00

I guess it was about 4 years ago... I was walking through the mall with my 3 yr old on my hip and my 5 and 8 yr old trailing behind me with my Nanny. It was crowded. In fact, if I remember correctly, it was Christmas time. As we walked past the food court, I noticed some young college aged guys staring, but I paid no attention until my Nanny looked at me and said, "OH MY GOSH! Did you hear what those guys said about you?!?" I, said, "No! What?!?" She made a funny face..."I can't tell you in front of the kids! I'll tell you later." My heart sank. I assumed the worst. I was convinced that they were making fun of me...that something was terribly wrong with me. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

We got to the car and my Nanny helped get the kids in and then came around to the back where I was loading shopping bags. In a loud whisper she said, "Those guys were calling you a MILF!!!" I guess I had a really puzzled look on my face...and in my head I was thinking.."OMG! What does that mean? Is MILF anything like FUGLY? Did those guys think I'm ugly...or gross? What the hell is a MILF?" She giggled and asked, "Did you ever see American Pie?" I replied, "No, I never had ANY desire to watch it. Why?" "Because!" she said, "Then you would know what MILF means!" Exasperated and desperate to know, I asked..."What on earth is a MILF?!?!" She looked a little uncomfortable and said, "A Mom I'd like toooo...." STILL puzzled..."Huh?" "You know, A Mom I'd like to 'F'!!!" A slight pause and then it finally penetrated..."Oh! Oh..." That was the first time I ever heard that expression...and while I KNEW I should be offended...disgusted...there was a tiny part of me that liked it.

So today...I went to lunch with my Sis at a restaurant that we frequent. There's the sweetest, most hilarious gay waiter there. He LOVES my sister. When we got there, we requested his section and the hostess showed us to our booth. Once I sat my purse down, I went to the restroom to wash the chalk off my hands from the gym. As I headed back to the table, our waiter met me and gave me a big hug. During the hug, he said "ALL the guys that work here have been running up to me asking 'Who's the MILF'? My response..."WHO? ME?!?!" He laughed, "Yeah...YOU girl!" It was as shocking today as it was years ago, but it really got funny when my sister told me to go over there and show our "friend" the tank (pictured below) I was wearing under my jacket. Me...being the oblivious idiot that I am...said "Ok." I walked over to him and said, "So, I'm supposed to show you my tank, huh?" He smiled..."Yeah, your sister told me about it!" I'm not thinking a thing about lifting up my pullover to show what is written across my boobs, because after all...he IS gay. What I didn't pay attention to, is the fact that he was NOT alone...there were lots of other waiters over there, when I showed off my...ummmm...shirt. They all loved it...needless to say and it wasn't until our waiter came over laughing that I realized what I had done. Through his laughter he said, "All those guys just walked up to me and said 'THANK YOU'!!!!" Gasp! "Oh my! I didn't even think about that!"

Maybe it was yet another "blonde moment"...maybe it's that I just never can grasp the fact that I would be categorized as a MILF. Either way...I'm still scratching my head...asking, "A MILF?!? Who? ME?!?"

..aN iNaUgURaL fUnnY...

2009-01-20T22:11:00.015-06:00

Today is a historic day...not one that I have personally looked forward to...but one that I recognize as important nonetheless. I was gone all day and missed seeing any of the coverage of the inauguration on T.V. It seemed like I was going nonstop until I finally finished up at the gym and headed home around 6pm. I had worked out really hard and I was worn out. Once I got in my car to drive home, I ran through all the channels that I have set on XM radio. I couldn't find anything I wanted to hear so I pushed the AM/FM button to see what I could find on "regular" radio. The first station I listened to was a rock station and there was a commercial talking about what an important day this is and then the announcer says, "And now...a word from our former President!''. The next voice I heard was familiar...but it did not belong to President Bush. It belonged to Will Ferrell pretending to be President Bush giving a going away speech...and this is part of what he said,

"Well, Amerr-ca! I'm here to say...I'm leavin the White House and I'm goin to go tear Dallas a new party hole!...WOOO! I'm gone...but don't worry!...that Tiger Woods guy is takin over!"

I laughed sooo hard...outloud...all by myself in my car...and after a loooong day that included a hair appt...lunch with my sister...a speeding ticket...some shopping...and a tough workout...I needed that laugh! Thanks Will Ferrell for brightening my day with your humor! Good luck President Obama! I hope you deliver everything that you say you will...because if you don't...I'm afraid we are in trouble...

...MY "cOnFeSSioNs"...

2009-01-16T21:57:00.014-06:00

Shopper...customer...client...buyer...browser...patron... consumer...all different words...with the same meaning..."one who visits stores in search of merchandise or bargains". I am all of these things. I LOVE to shop. I go through periods of time where it almost seems...compulsive...and then there have been a few periods of time where I hardly shopped at all. In fact, I remember calling my friend W at one point and asking "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!? I DON'T EVEN WANT TO SHOP THESE DAYS!!!" As you can probably guess...the "compulsive shopper" is probably more of the "NORM" for me than the latter.

I have always been the type to look for bargains...even when I didn't NEED to financially. I would get such a rush out of buying a $118.00 shirt for $30.00 on clearance...and buying DESIGNER jeans...especially at FULL PRICE...was unthinkable to me...until I bought my first pair of Seven For All Mankind jeans with my sis. I asked for more and my husband bought me two more pair at $200.00 a piece for Christmas. So, one pair didn't fit right and I had to go back to try another size...they ordered me a size and in the end, I realized that apparently these jeans were cut differently than ALL THE OTHER Seven For All Mankind jeans and returned them and decided to look for another brand. True Religion jeans were too low and skinny and the Rock and Republic jeans I tried on are made for 6 foot tall models..not girls with a nice round butt and athletic thighs. I mean for $300.00...they should make my butt look better than ever instead of "smooshing" it flat.

I was at the mall returning these ill fitting jeans and shopping for my daughter's 13th b-day presents. I bought her the Ed Hardy tennis shoes she wanted and then decided to stop into The Buckle to check out their Ed Hardy tees. I saw ALL these FABULOUS jeans and I was sucked in! The super cute, edgy sales guy with the torn up jeans, the cool Affliction t shirt, and the "million dollar smile" bee-lined for me as soon as I walked in. I don't know if he could smell my weakness or if he was just really over zealous but he was RIGHT THERE. Our conversation was like this...

SALES GUY: HEY...(leaning back into a "swaggar" of a pose"...looking me up and down but not in a really obvious way)...LOOKIN FOR SOME JEANS?

ME: UH, YEAH...BUT I'M WONDERING DO THESE JEANS (holding up a pair I like) HAVE ANY STRETCH IN THEM...

SALES GUY: I THINK SO...MOST OF OUR JEANS DO...ARE YOU WANTING STRETCH?

ME: I NEED STRETCH OR I WON'T BE ABLE TO GET THEM OVER MY THIGHS. MY THIGHS ARE ATHLETIC AND BIG COMPARED TO MY WAIST.

SALES GUY: I TELL YOU WHAT...LET ME PICK SOME STUFF OUT FOR YOU...AND WE'LL SEE HOW YOU DO (charming smile)...WHAT SIZE DO YOU WEAR?

ME: 27...SOMETIMES 28 IF THEY RUN SMALL...

SALES GUY: (turns to walk away and looks over his shoulder and asks...) DO YOU HAVE ANY "SINFUL" STUFF?

ME: I BEG YOUR PARDON? (really "dumb blonde" look in my eye I'm sure)

SALES GUY: THE BRAND..."SINFUL"...

ME: OHHHH...NO.

He comes back with like 10 pair of expensive, SUPER CUTE jeans and 5 tshirts and I started trying them on. Now there were NO MIRRORS in the dressing room, so I had to walk out to look in the mirror...feeling ON DISPLAY. He was right there to give his opinion. The tees he brought originally fit my middle fine but were VERY tight across the chest. Hmmm...what a strange coincidence! I asked him to get me some Mediums and he told me my jeans looked good...and I have to say...my butt WAS lookin pretty darn good if I do say so myself...ESPECIALLY for a woman that will be 40 this year! I kept tryin and found some really cute stuff, but at $150.00 and $200.00 EACH...it's not like I could just grab everything I liked. I narrowed it down to 1 "Sinful" tee and 3 pairs of jeans. I get to the counter and the conversation continued...

ME: "WELL, I GUESS I'LL TAKE THIS PAIR OF JEANS ($150.00) AND WAIT ON THE OTHER 2...AND I'LL GET THIS 1 TSHIRT FOR ME AND THIS ONE FOR MY DAUGHTER."

SALES GUY: YOU SURE YOU DON'T WANT THESE OTHER TWO PAIRS OF JEANS???

ME: OH, I WANT EM, BUT I'LL HAVE TO PICK EM UP LATER...I MEAN THAT'S 350.00 WORTH OF JEANS THERE!

SALES GUY: PUT EM ON LAYAWAY IF YOU DON'T WANNA SPEND THAT MUCH RIGHT NOW.

ME: LAYAWAY?!? NO...I'M NOT A LAYAWAY KINDA GAL...(grimace...smile)

SALES GUY: (smile) YOU CAN ALWAYS CANCEL IT...AND WE DON'T ALWAYS HAVE THESE STYLES...

ME: FINE!

I walked out with hundreds of dollars of merchandise and hundreds more on LAYAWAY! What the?!?! I felt like I had just been involved in a Hit N Run accident. I wasn't gonna go crazy..I just wanted 1 pair of jeans and a tee. I think I even muttered, "What just happened?" as I walked out...but I KNEW..the same thing that ALWAYS happens.

So as usual..I tried to psycho analyze my decisions as I drove home drinking my yummy Sugar Free Strawberry/Vanilla Italian soda from Nordstrom. Why do I go through these shopping cycles? Am I happier in my life when I'm in the "NOT shopping so much" cycle? When I compulsively shop am I trying to fill a proverbial "hole"? Or am I just a spoiled brat? Hmmmm...I think it may be a little of all of that. I don't know...all I do know, is that I do LOVE to shop and I gotta STOP with the jeans! I need to be more in control! Sometimes, I think the ONLY way for me to be in control is to avoid stores altogether, because try as I might to "be good"...I AM A SHOP-A-HOLIC!

*BTW...just a little fashion "tid-bit"...the brand of jeans called Rock Revival that I bought at The Buckle...are actually made by Rock and Republic...the ONLY difference (besides actually being cuter in my opinion) is that they are cut for "more normal" people and instead of $300.00...they are $148.00. So, if you like Rock and Republic jeans, check out Rock Revival jeans!

...aCt yO aGe mAmA...nOt yO sHoE siZe...

2009-01-12T09:48:00.012-06:00

"ACT YOUR AGE!" It's an expression that we've ALL heard...maybe even said at one time or another. We all know what it means...or do we really??? Not too long ago, my husband and I got into a fight. I can't remember what it was about...nothing really important...but I do remember that it was over a difference of opinion concerning SOMETHING that I was doing that he found inappropriate. I remember him looking at me before he walked out of our room with disgust and saying "Why don't you just ACT YOUR AGE for once?!?!" I had no response, but I remember being angry and thinking..."Act my age??? What the hell does that MEAN anyways?!?"

You see...here's the thing...you could not find 2 more different people than me and my husband, P, at times. We don't fight too much...we usually get along just fine...and we do love each other...but sometimes I feel like a child...a bad, rebellious child. I'm a good person. I do the right thing...but I have a wild streak I guess you could say. P NEVER swears. I'm sorry...but I find it necessary to use certain words to get my point across...MANY have 4 letters. And if I stub my toe...I will most likely scream "S***!"

He hates that about me. I love music...and I love all kinds...especially LOUD, hard, angry music. I also enjoy the occasional hip-hop song. I'm careful about what I play in front of my kids, but alone...anything goes. P believes that if a song has the "F bomb" (as he "affectionately refers to it) in it or if a CD says "explicit content"...it should be OFF-LIMITS. I am much more tolerant. I like to look sexy...he is uber conservative. I always feel like I am consciously "toning myself down" for him. I could go on and on, but you get the point and it makes sense that he would say something to me like "ACT YOUR AGE!".

I know that it was supposed to be an insult...but in the end...TO ME...it wasn't. I mean what does it mean to "act your age" anyway? Does it mean that you have to be serious and uptight? Does it mean that you have to look and behave like a prude? Does it mean sitting at home and going to bed early? Does it mean refraining from loud laughter and being offended when the boys at the gym make jokes or a rapper sings about big butts? I mean really...what does it MEAN to "ACT MY AGE"? How is a 39 yr old SUPPOSED to act?

I've decided that the answer doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because I am who I am. So what if I swear...or laugh too loud sometimes...or listen to music marked explicit...or wanna look sexy... Maybe I don't want to act my age!

…woRk oUt “tOuReTTes”…

2009-01-09T14:23:00.005-06:00

I love to workout alongside the guys at my gym. I love it, because they push me without saying a word. I run faster…I go harder and longer…I do one more rep without stopping…all because I want to beat them. This is funny...because the few guys I am specifically trying to beat...are pretty strong guys…at least 10 yrs younger than me…all men…all ex-military. I can’t beat them usually…but still…I try and I’ll NEVER stop trying.

Sometimes…almost EVERY time…I am in serious pain during a workout as I race against the boys and the stopwatch. Consequently, I have to fight my way through most workouts. The funny part…the annoying part…is how uncontrollably loud I am. I GRUNT…and I MOAN…and I YELL. I’ve often referred to myself as “the Monica Seles of Crossfit”. I even shout out profanities every now and then. I make all sorts of crazy noise! No one ever says a word, but I’m sure they think I’m a freak. The weird part is that it all JUST happens. It just flies out of my mouth without any thought…like I can’t control it. I realized today...when I was in there working out alone...and I STILL grunted and yelled...that it’s almost like I have Tourettes Syndrome…except it’s ONLY when I workout and it’s ONLY verbal…no tics…yet. It’s like I have “Workout Tourettes” and I wonder if I’ll ever be “cured”. Maybe one day I will learn to control it…but until then…I guess my guy friends will have to put up with me and my ridiculous noises in the gym. Sorry boys.

I found this video and thought it was hilarious! Good thing I don't go to Planet Fitness! I might be kicked out!

...nO nEEd fOr aLcoHoL wiTh a bRaiN LiKe miNe...

2009-01-06T15:03:00.009-06:00

My two sisters and I had plans to hang out Saturday Night…nothing too crazy…just dinner and some laughs. I spend time on the weekends with one of my sisters, S, quite often…I see the other, K, for lunch a couple of times a week, but we don't ever get together on the weekends. I was excited because it is so unusual for the three of us to get together.

We weren't sure where to go, but in the end S and I drove out to meet K at Hooters because she had decided to go there with her roommate (he's a guy!) and if we didn't, we wouldn't get to hang with her. My thought has always been…"We are chicks…so why go to Hooters?"..but really the point was to be with my sisters…so I picked Sarah up and headed to Hoots to meet K.

We walked in and K introduced us to all her friends (the"regulars" there) and all "the girls" (waitresses). So, here's the thing…the beer and Margaritas…were flowin at the table we were at…except for my spot. I was drinking Diet Coke. So you may think…how boring. You may think that I was quiet while everyone else had fun and whooped it up. WRONG!

I told jokes and stories and we all laughed until I was literally in tears a few times. K's friend Sal got up to go to the bathroom and his phone started ringing…his ringtone is the song "Right Now (Na Na Na)" by Akon. I have no clue what came over me as I was sittin on that stool…but when it went off I started singing and dancing on my stool (while still sitting of course…I'm not THAT crazy). When I did, my two sisters immediately joined in. After that, everytime Sal's phone went off…whether we were in mid conversation or what…we all stopped and sang and danced. Sal was lovin it..in fact, I was startin to think he might be callin himself with the other guy's phone under the table. It sure was mysterious how once that went down…his once quiet phone was ringin almost continually. The other hilarious thing was that my sister…who WAS drinking…a lot…ripped my pump off to show everyone that I could use the heels as a weapon…of course I played along with the demonstration..showing some kicks, etc.

K's friends had been at the table behind us, but once they left, some creepy guy came in and sat there. He kept trying to fight the urge to get involved and stare, but he couldn't help it. He enjoyed every minute of our antics while enjoying a 3 course meal...yes I said a 3 course meal...salad, stinky fish, & dessert...weird, I know. Cmon! It's Hooters dude...eat some wings or a burger! Anywho...he kept talking to himself and everytime he did, my sister, S would say, "Oh no! He's calling "the mother ship" to come pick him up!" It was makin me laugh so hard. As if all this wasn't enough, my sister S asks about the hula hoops hangin up. K said something about birthdays or something and then next thing I know, she's got one of the waitresses hula hoping and she's tryin, but it's NOT happenin. I just so happened to mention prior that I am really good at hula hoping…they remembered and started buggin me to do it. I resisted for a while. Finally...after some coaxing from a few people...I got up…thinking "Can I really do this?...in some seriously high heels?...in front of everyone?" Well, I STILL got it, because I had NO problem! I had that baby goin! I went to hang it back up and my sisters were like "I can't believe you did it!" I said my favorite line from "My Best Friend's Wedding"…"OH, I GOT MOVES YOU'VE NEVER SEEN!" That busted everyone up into hysterical laughter again! Even the policeman in there was laughin. Then K got me to show her friends at our table, Dave and Sal my "booty poppin move" that I always get tricked into showing people. It starts with the whole "What's the first thing you do on a squat?" and I say "You pop your butt back like you're closing a car door!" and then I CAN'T help myself…I demonstrate the move…"Like this! Pop…pop…pop…pop!"

I had a great time! It's funny because I don't go out that much…because I don't drink…but when I do…I'm as crazy or crazier than the folks that ARE drinking!...but in a good way…I am in control of what I do. Besides, I realized that with a brain like mine…there's no need for alcohol. My sisters even joked about it…sayin if I did I woulda been up on the "Texas shaped table" singin "Deep in the Heart of Texas" or something! Ha ha! Can you even imagine? The thought scares me!

...wAnnAbE buLLy...

2008-12-31T23:51:00.003-06:00

Last Friday I was a wannabe bully at the gym. I went to 24 hr Fitness with my husband to workout. I don't have a membership there, but I have gone as his guest a few times when he is home for a holiday. I usually just go up to the gym I work at whenever I want...unlock the door with my key...and I usually have the entire place to myself. I can set up little stations. I can drop the weight if I need to because we have rubber bumper plates. I don't ever have to be around people that I don't like or know...because at my gym...we are like family...and I love my "family". There are not mirrors to admire oneself in...it is a completely alternate universe to 24 HR Fitness.

I get really frustrated and stressed in a "normal gym" situation...or a "globo gym" as Crossfitters call them. I always feel like everyone is staring at me...like I can't do anything without SOMEONE watching. I recognize that much of what I do is advanced and different. Not everyone does Olympic lifts or pull ups or technical Barbell lifts...stuff like Power Cleans etc. But I recognize that I am the weird one, so I understand.

My husband and I do not hardly ever workout together, but when we do he likes me to help him with movements or lifts that he is unsure of or needs coaching on. I had our workout written up and we got started. When we got done doing Deadlifts and Front Squats, we left to go do some other stuff. He told me to leave my towel and stuff over there since we would be "right back". I had no confidence in that plan...I knew someone would come along and "steal" our spot...that's life in a "globo gym". Sure enough...some skinny guy in his 30s came along and began changing the weight...oh well...sucks but what can you do. That's what I thought until I saw him pick up my workout notebook and throw it against the wall like a piece of garbage. I was starting to feel a little warm...I mean WTF? Dude?!? Why you gotta throw my crap around like that?!?!

I kept calm and continued. I told my husband that we would just front squat without the rack. We would use the bar we set up for deadlifting...change the weight...power clean it up and then front squat over to the side. We did. When I was done, I was standing there watching my husband...coaching him and I see this guy back squatting and in all honesty...I have NEVER seen a shittier back squat in my ENTIRE life! He was really upright (front squatting his back squat) and his knees would bow WAY in when he would come up out of the squat...and not just a little...I'm talkin way in...like his 2 knees were about to touch. His head was cranked back up to the ceiling. It was horrendous. I wanted to give him a few tips, but I could tell his ego couldn't take it...so I bit my lip and looked the other way. We continued working out.

I came back for our last round and I hear this goober turn to the guy next to him that was shoulder pressing and start talkin about everything that everyone else does incorrectly in the gym. I was so shocked and for some reason...it made me really mad. This jerk throws my book...can't back squat to save his life...and has the "juevos" to talk shit about other people?!?! I looked at my husband and said, "I'm about to tell this guy off! So you better just walk away and pretend not to know me if that's gonna make you uncomfortable." He looked nervous. I wanted so bad to be a bully. I wanted to be mean and tell him what I thought. I wanted to point out everything he was doing wrong. I wanted to tell him he had chicken legs and throw his book against the wall like he did mine. I decided that I couldn't feel good about that...so I controlled myself...eventhough it took A LOT of restraint.

Then a big, cute, buff guy...probably my same age...walked by to get a drink and saw me lifting and said, "Wow...you must be an athlete." I was taken aback and my husband said something...I just smiled and LOVED it (I know...pathetic). It was actually good because it diffused the way I was feeling and made me look at things from a different angle. I feel bad for what a wannabe bully I was. I didn't act on it...but the intention was there. I realized that instead of being aggravated and arrogant, I should feel so lucky that I have been taught how to lift correctly...that I have had the opportunity to learn from experts like Mark Rippetoe. It was a real eye opener for me. It made me LOVE what I do. It made me realize how important my job really is and it made me rethink the way I see other people at the gym.

...BEHOLD!...tHe pOwEr oF bOObs!...

2008-11-11T21:23:00.025-06:00

I've been thinkin about boobs a lot lately...about the power they hold over some men. The interesting thing is that big fake boobs used to be shocking...unusual. NOW...they are common place. In fact, I think that these days it seems like women are weird if they are SMALLER than a D cup. I mean, I have a C cup and I feel like I'm small some days! also find it AMAZING that a woman can have a...LESS than beautiful face...or even (sorry to be a catty girl) an UGLY face...but if she's got a nice, big set of boobs...a lot of men will think she's "HOT". It shocks me that women post pictures on MYSPACE in bikinis or less and well they DON'T have good figures. They have big bellies and flabby arms and legs...BUT..they also have big, round, fake looking D cup boobs...AND SOOO...many men think they are "BEAUTIFUL". WHAT?!?!

Okay girls, let me rewind and say this is NOT a post saying that we as women shouldn't put on a bikini unless we have tiny, perfect bodies. It is NOT a judgement against people that choose to have their breasts "augmented" or even women that choose LARGE implants. It is also NOT a post saying that women have to be perfect or flawless to be beautiful. It just seriously AMAZES me the POWER that boobs have over men. Boobs can be like "beer goggles". They make men think they are seeing something that they are NOT and they ENHANCE beauty that may or may not be there. And you know what else? Women KNOW it and USE it. I'm not tryin to be a hater...I KNOW how to use what I got. I may not have double Ds, but I've got enough to turn some heads in the right top. I also DON'T want people to love me or think I'm beautiful or special because of what's in my bra...which is the reason I have never posted anything like the pic above on myspace. (There's actually a funny story about my daughter thinking my shirt was funny when I got home from the gym and asking to take a picture of it. I said okay and pointed at my shirt. She's 9...and obviously shorter than me...I thought she was getting ALL of me...but she was focused in on my shirt...and in the end...when I pulled up the pic...THIS is what we got! ha!). Sorry to diverge but I had to ESS-SPLAIN this funny funny picture...anyways...I didn't wanna deal with the insincere people that I would get messages from if I ever posted anything like this. If someone wants to comment or think I look good...I want it to be because they really think that I am beautiful and not because they are blinded by body parts...the words wouldn't be for ME...they'd be for my boobs. I just wish I could help the men so easily affected by 2 balls of saline or silicone open their eyes and not be so blinded by the sight of cleavage. C'mon boys! Don't get yanked around...wake up! Take off the "boob goggles"!
I'm NOT condoning ANYTHING in this video! I just couldn't resist adding it because it reminded me of EXACTLY what I'm sayin! It's just too funny! (Sorry Dad! He is a big Bill O'Reilly fan and hates Ludacris. Luckily he doesn't read my blog or even know it exists. I don't even think he knows what a blog is...whew!)

...wHy i LoVe mEn...

2008-11-07T21:47:00.005-06:00

I'm SO NOT a man hater! I love men. I relate better to men usually than I do to women. In fact...sometimes...I think I AM a man trapped in a woman's body...except for the liking girls bit...ewwww...no thanks! Anyways...this is why most of my friends are men and this what I love about them...

When men are mad...I mean REALLY mad...they just punch a wall, or break something, or hit the guy makin em mad in the face...they just get it out...and then it's done...over. We women hang on and hold a grudge. We smile to each other's faces and grumble, "B****" under our breath when you walk away.

Men don't gossip. They don't care what Joe wore to the party last night. They could care less if Bob has put on 10 pounds. This is not because they are better people...they just don't give a crap! We women gossip and hate on each other and judge and compare ourselves to every other person we see. We see their success as OUR failure. We whisper and call each other and notice EVERYTHING.

Men are not ashamed...of everything. If they fart...or burp...they laugh. If they need to spit or blow their noses...they do it...right out in the open...in front of...whoever. We women would die of embarrassment if a fart slipped out in "mixed company". Now, I'm not saying I like that or that I want to go around farting and spitting...and I'm NOT saying I want the men in my life to fart and spit in front of me...I SO appreciate it when they refrain! I'm just saying that I admire a man's ability to be...ummm..."comfortable in their own skin".

Men can laugh at each other and still be friends...trash talk and not get hurt feelings. In fact, sometimes, I think these are bonding experiences for them. If we women laugh at each other...that's the end...and trash talkin?!?...them's fightin words!

Men never really grow up. They still play video games and they never outgrow throwing balls and telling gross jokes. They find joy in these "small pleasures". Men can have fun doing nothing...they need no time or dress code. We women try to be serious...we need plans to have fun...we want to know what our friends are wearing and we want to make sure we all show up at the same time.

I could go on and on...but the fact is men and women are so different...and while I will admit that some of these things CAN get annoying...I love the men in my life...my family...my husband...my son...my friends.

...sPeAk uP!...

2008-11-04T15:49:00.003-06:00

I'll admit that I feel a bit defeated when it comes to this election. I feel almost certain that the person I am NOT voting for will be elected. I began to say to myself..."WHY BOTHER VOTING? WHY SHOULD I WASTE MY TIME VOTING ONLY TO FEEL IT WAS FOR NOTHING?" Pretty crappy attitude huh? I agree.

Most parents wish to raise their children to be stronger, smarter, better than they themselves are. I know I do. So what kind of defeatist attitude am I passing along if I behave this way?!? And SO...I took advantage of the opportunity to teach my children something else. I voted...and I was lucky enough to be able to take my 7 yr old that was playing "hooky" with me today along and teach him some important lessons.

We were talking over dinner last night about the candidates because they had a "mock election" at school and so all 3 of my kids experienced choosing a candidate and voting. J was very quiet while my girls were very opinionated. Then, he said very quietly..."I wish I could change my vote." I said, "Why?" "Because I voted for the wrong person." I told him that it was a personal choice and that he did not have to vote for the same person that we did. He said, "I still would change my vote."

Today as he and I walked out of the building I voted in, we talked about how important it is to vote...even if the person you choose is not elected. We talked about the fact that voting is your "voice"...your way of taking part in the way our country is run. He asked me who I voted for and I told him. He asked why and I explained that a person should learn about the candidates...what they stand for...and choose the person that will run the country the way they think is best. I gave him a few examples and he listened intently. He's such a smart little boy with an old soul. Just before we got to the car, he smiled and said, "Mom, I change my mind. If I were a grown up...I would still vote for the same guy...eventhough he's not your favorite." I stopped and hugged him and said, "That's ok. It's YOUR choice...YOUR vote...and I would love you no matter who you vote for." He smiled at me and we left. No matter the result...I'm so glad that I voted today...that I set an example for my children...and that used my "voice".

..mEe-Oww!...

2008-11-01T11:29:00.005-05:00

The whole "cougar phenomenon" is so strange to me. I mean I understand how older women would find younger men attractive, but it blows my mind that a younger man would want an older woman. I mean I've read and been told by my friends that the attraction to older older women comes from the fact that we (older women) know what we want...we are less drama (supposedly)...and there are less long term expectations...yada yada yada...but really...CMON...seriously?

I am in great shape for my age (I HATE that term "for your age" by the way), but I CANNOT compete with the tight skin and firm body of a 20 year old. I don't know...maybe other women my age are better preserved. Last night, I was invited to my friends going away/Halloween party. The one stipulation was that I HAD to wear a costume. So I went to look at costumes. They were all either UGLY...or SLUTTY. I should say that most of my friends are guys from the gym that I work with or their friends...ages...23-29...much younger than my 39 years. My husband was staying home with our kids and wasn't thrilled that I was going, but he knew it was important to me and he knew I would be a "good girl". When he was airing his concerns...it hit me! I KNEW exactly what I could be for Halloween. It would be just enough of a costume to get by...not slutty lookin...cute...and funny...just what I wanted.

I put on tight jeans...a black shirt...fuzzy ears...and attached a tail to the back of my jeans. A cat you ask? No...a COUGAR! I personally thought it was a hilariously clever idea...a play on words...and I was going to a party with a bunch of young guys...and I was going to be the oldest person there..by at LEAST 10 years. It took my husband a while to warm up to the idea. I think it made him nervous...but he relented. All my friends and the other people LOVED it and thought it was so funny. The interesting part was that I had more clothes on...BY FAR...than ANY other girl there...but interestingly enough...I think I looked just as sexy or sexier than any other girl there.

Maybe that's where the "cougar appeal" comes in. As an older woman I recognize that being sexy...attractive to men...is about more than taking your clothes off...it's about using what you got...and being confident enough to do so. I'm married so the point is mute...but even if I weren't...I still don't think I could ever be a cougar...but it was fun to "play one" for the night. "Mee-owW!"

...hErE wE gO aGaiN...

2008-10-31T08:54:00.000-05:00

I have a knack for losing things. I can NEVER find my keys. I misplace important papers. I have to call my cell phone on a daily basis so that I can figure out where I last left it. It's a little annoying, but I'm used to it...and I just deal with it. Unfortunately, I have a knack for losing more important things as well...my friends.

I must say that it's not like my friends and I get into a fight and go our separate ways. That might not be as bad I guess...because I would feel some sense of control then. Instead, I make friends with people that end up making major life changes and moving away. "Losing" is probably not the best word to use, because they remain my friends...it's just the we are not as close in proximity...so we "lose" the ability to see each other as we have. When I "lost" W...my heart was broken. I missed him more than I ever thought I would. I counted the days til he would be back...but plans changed and I realized he wouldn't be back at all. Again...sad...but I learned to deal with missing my friend because he was happy and that's what I wanted for him.

So, me and A (W's brother) became friends. We both worked at the same gym and sometimes we workout together. We've gone to lunch and we have a lot of fun together. He brings out a crazy side of me...I feel like a goofy 17 year old at times because I do the silliest, air-headed things when I'm around him. Sometimes, he makes me wanna strangle him...BUT overall...we have a great time together and he makes me laugh...hard.

A is moving out of the country in a few days. I won't be counting days this time, because I know he will not be back. A and I have not known each other or spent as much time together as me and W did. While we are good friends, we are not as close as W and I are. BUT I will really miss him. I'll miss working out. I'll miss laughing...loud and hard. I'll miss his cocky ways (that's a compliment in my book). I'll miss his helpful suggestions when lifting weight. I'll miss how he is always quick with a hug or a compliment.

I keep telling myself that this is good...that he will be happy...but then the selfish side of me emerges and I start to feel sad. I feel sorry for myself and wonder why...why can't I find a girlfriend that I have as much fun with as I do with my "boys"?...why do my friends go away?...why do I get so attached to people? I just feel like I'm having deja vu. Even though I don't spend as much time on a daily basis with A as I did with W...I'll still really miss his friendship.

Here we go again. Luv ya A...good luck my friend!

...mY nEw mAntRa???...

2008-10-27T08:20:00.007-05:00

SO...in response to yesterday's post...my friend K says I need to adapt a new mantra that doesn't start with "I suck" or "I'm fat". If you haven't read it...stop, scroll down, and read it first...this will all make much more sense and I won't seem QUITE SO bi-polar!

Wow...this new self-love mantra business is gonna be harder than I thought. But here goes...

I am beautiful. My a** looks hot in my tight jeans and spandex workout pants. When I wear a shirt with words and people stare at my chest...they are not always reading...and they are smiling. When I wear heels...my legs look long and sexy. When I walk by, people stop and stare...not because I look ugly...because I look good. I am beautiful.

I am strong. When I compete in the gym, I do well...sometimes...I even "beat the boys". When I demonstrate movements in the gym, I can make them look easy...even when they are not. When I do a difficult movement or lift a heavy weight, others are impressed. I have a body that most women would want and I should be proud. I am strong.

There you have it. Today, I don't believe it. In fact, I'm embarrassed to post this...but I'm gonna say it everyday...and pray that one day...I believe.

Thanks K. Muah! :)

...sOmeTiMeS i fEeL LiKe i'M LiViN iN a fUn hOuSe fiLLeD wiTh miRRoRs...

2008-10-26T15:56:00.003-05:00

Have you ever been to carnival and looked into the "funhouse mirrors"? Well, somedays I feel like every mirror I pass is a fun house mirror. My mind is warped and so what I see is warped as well. I grew up never feeling pretty. I even had a boy tell me I was "UGLY" in junior high school in front of the entire class...what I wouldn't give to see him today!!! I grew up feeling like my Mom didn't like me...and my dad bought me diet pills in junior high. My mom and dad love me...that's not the point of all this...to paint this sad pitiful story...I'm just trying to give some explanation as to why I just can't seem to EVER be happy with the reflection I see in the mirror.

The past week has been especially bad. I look in the mirror or I see a picture of myself...and I want to scream! I feel like I look so much bigger...fatter...but ALL my clothes fit me the same as they have. People tell me I look great, but that's not what I see in the mirror. I see wrinkles and a crooked nose. It could literally drive me crazy if I let it. I SO want to change the way I see myself. I SO want to see a beautiful reflection in the mirror.

...yOu'Re a sOccEr mOm!...

2008-10-18T15:31:00.005-05:00

My oldest daughter had a swim meet today and my middle child, also a girl had a soccer game. Since we haven't quite figured out how to be 2 places at one time...my husband and I did what we always do...divide and conquer. Swim meets are kinda HIS thing, so I took the soccer game.

I asked my 9yr old where she wanted to eat before her 1:30 game...she said "Schlotzsky"s"...and away we went...me, my daughter S and my son J (almost 7). Now, I had planned on working out BEFORE the game...it never happened....so I was wearing my short running shorts, a blue tank, and running shoes. I grabbed my t-shirt that has my daughter's team name and number on it...the one I have had for a year and never wanted to wear...and just threw it on over my tank.

We got to Schlotsky's and right when I walked to the counter, a young (early 20s...MAYBE) girl immediately said, "Oh...You're a soccer mom!". I was taken aback for a couple of reasons. First, I'm usually either perfectly put together...tight jeans, heels, and a cute top...or in a tight workout outfit...this was weird attire for me...I try NOT to look "mom-ish". Second, people don't usually associate me with soccer moms upon first seeing me. I paused, stumbled over my words, and said, "Uh, yeah (nervous smile)..." and placed my order.

As I drove towards the game, my kids were watching a movie with headphones and I had no one to talk to...so I was thinking how weird the whole "soccer mom interlude" had been. I was almost embarrassed when she asked me about it. Why? Because people associate soccer moms with being overweight...wearing tshirts with team names and numbers on them...having no life...and well just being boring...having nothing outside of driving kids to practices and being a mom. However, I came to the conclusion today, that it doesn't have to be that way.Yes, I'm a soccer mom...but I am so much more. I am a woman...a wife...a mother...a daughter...a friend...a personal trainer...a lover...a sister. I am also in shape...I'm strong...funny...silly...smart (sometimes)...I'm sexy (when I WANT to be). I am a great mom and I love my kids...I would lay down my life for them...but I have a life...interests outside of them as well. I decided that instead of being embarrassed...I need to show the world that not all "soccer moms" are boring, frumpy women and more importantly...I want to teach my daughters that they CAN be moms and still do other things as well.No more being embarrassed of who I am or what I do...no more apologizing for my age...from now on, I will be proud to say I'm a soccer mom...proud to show the world that not all soccer moms are alike!

...oNe oF mY gReAteSt feArS...

2008-10-07T22:39:00.006-05:00

THIS...is my greatest fear...getting old...saggy..."falling apart". Shallow? Yes. More important things to worry about? Yes. Will I stop? No.

I do not consider myself exceptionally beautiful, but I look pretty good. I spend A LOT of time and money to look my best. I can not imagine how hard it will be to wake up one day and KNOW that I can't run from my age anymore. The thought of going to the beach and having people stare...NOT because I look sexy...but because I look wrinkled and ridiculous in a bikini...PAINS ME!I can not remember a time in my life when I did not fear growing old. I was depressed ALL DAY on my 30th birthday. Next year...I turn 40. I can't even imagine how I will feel then! I wonder why this is so scary to me. When did this happen?

The interesting part is that I feel sexier and I think I am more beautiful at almost 39 than I was at 20! I'm an improved womanly version of a girl that was a work in progress. But I still dread the day that heads no longer turn. Call me shallow, but at least I'm honest.

...mY LeTTeR tO a "sTraNgeR"...

2008-10-01T22:02:00.000-05:00

Dear person marrying one of my favorite people in the world,

I know that we are strangers, but there must be some part of you in me and me in you. I say this because we see the same thing with different sets of eyes...a genuine friend...a brilliant mind...a kind and giving heart...an amazing man. I hope that you know just how lucky you are, and what an amazing step you are about to take. I hope that as you travel down the path of your life together...and as things change...and you each age...that one thing will remain constant...your love for each other. I hope that you will never become so busy with the everyday details of life...work...and someday kids...that you lose sight of what it is that drew you together.

He is my dearest friend...my teacher...my sounding board. At times I was the only woman there for him...there when others walked away. I was there to comfort...to laugh...to give advice. Letting go was not easy, but it needed to be done. Sometimes it is hard to know that I am no longer needed...hard for selfish reasons. But most of the time...I am so grateful that he finally met a person that sees what I have always seen...so happy that he loves you and you love him. Please treat him well...take care of him...love him no matter what.

I wish you both all the love an happiness in the world.
Love,
MC

...bALLeR!...

2008-09-28T16:30:00.004-05:00

I shopped with my sis, S yesterday. We haven't done that in FOREVER and we had so much fun! I love to shop...and I don't need ANY encouragement to buy things...but TODAY she encouraged me...and so the story unfolds...

I met my sis, S for lunch and shopping. We started in Nordstrom as I had already looked at Dillard's and Macy's and found NOTHING I liked for my friend, W's wedding. First we looked around the shoe dept at all the FABULOUS shoes. We milled around holding up shoes to show each other. Now the funny part about this is you could not find 2 more different people when it comes to shoes than me and my sis, S. She goes for classic, flat shoes...Uggs... She likes shoes, but she doesn't LOVE them...not like I do. Me...I find the highest, most over the top shoes I can and I form an emotional attachment to them...I fall in LOVE with them. Suddenly...it happened...I looked up and saw them...the most BEAUTIFUL pair of red heels...and the most AMAZING boots I have EVER seen on one table!ME: "OMG! S! Those shoes are amazing! They have to be by my favorite shoe designer EVER! I KNOW those are Donald Pliner shoes and boots!

S: pause...blank look like...is she for real?!?

ME: rushing over to snatch them up..."I KNEW IT!!! They ARE Donald Pliner! I bet they are ridiculously expensive!"
turning the boot over..."695 DOLLARS!!! But they are the most fabulous boots ever! Gosh, I wish I was rich!" I put them down...carefully..."Well, we better do what we came here to do! Let's go upstairs and look at dresses!"

S: "OK..."

Somehow...we ended up in the designer jeans dept. It was like a magnetic force field sucked us right in! Now...I LOVE jeans...they are practically all I wear...but I've NEVER been one to spend a lot of money on them...not because I can't afford it...but because it seemed like a waste. We looked at all the jeans and seemed to spend most of our time where they had the 7 For All Mankind jeans. I figured...What the heck! I'll try some on for fun! That's a bad strategy girls! It's like saying I'll do crack just this once for fun...next thing you know you've got a "habit" that costs you thousands of dollars. So I tried on the first pair...pretty cute...I could probably live without em. I tried on the next pair...Oh, no. Those didn't work because they had no stretch and I have to have stretch or jeans won't go over my legs because they are too big in relation to the size of my waist. Then...I did it...I tried a pair on...it was love. But I was like, I can't spend $200.00 on ONE PAIR OF JEANS!!!

I took them off and tried on the dresses I had to choose from. That was weird. Nothing was fitting well. Finally I tried on a dress that my sis and I agreed was "THE ONE". But there they were...still hanging up...the jeans. "I'll just try them one ONE MORE time.", I told my sis. I tried to talk myself out of them...but they has the cutest silver "7"s on the pockets...and they felt SO good...

ME: "I can't buy these because then ANY time I wear a cheaper pair of jeans...."

S: "Those will be in your closet...crying?!?"

ME: "NO...well, YES...well, NO...it's just that I'll always be wanting to wear these...everyday!"

S: "I would too."

ME: "Crap! I have the money from working, but...I'm scared...200 DOLLARS?!?!..."

S; "You deserve it! GO FOR IT Missy! (My 2 sisters and I call each other "Missy"...I don't know why...it's not any of our names!) BUY EM!"

ME: "Are you sure they look okay? What about my butt? Do they look like they are squeezing my legs?..."

S: "I hate you." (said in the most loving way of course)

ME: "Okay!"...(pause)..."I'm gonna do it!"

We gathered up my stuff and hurried out to see what the crazy sorority girl looked like that we kept hearing make stupid comments and went to the register. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach...was I really about to do this?!?! "Okay..." I told myself..."Pull it together! You want these! You have the money! RELAX!" I nonchalantly laid 2 pairs of jeans and a dress on the counter. "That will be 461 dollars." I heard the clerk say. HOLY S***!!! I remained unfazed on the outside and went to get my card out.

ME: "Oh CRAP! I left my AMEX at home and my Mastercard is in the car from when I got Sonic for the kids last night!"

(For a split second, I thought I had a way out...but then I realized that I DIDN'T want "out". I get up early...I stress over doing the best job I can for my clients...I clean up after everyone...I WORK HARD, DANG IT!!! I'M GETTIN THESE JEANS!!!")

ME: "Excuse me, Can I just write you a check since I don't have my cards on me? Will that be a problem to write a check for that much?"

CLERK: "Uhhh. Sure . No problem at all.

(with a crazy, stunned look on her face)

"WE ARE NORDSTROM'S! (said proudly as if she were repeating the pledge of allegiance) We take EVERYTHING!

The funniest things was that when I asked about writing a check and the girl looked a little shocked...I got out pen and my checkbook and looked over at my sister who said in the funniest, loud way..."BALLA! (baller)". Jeez, I felt like a "baller"...if an almost 40 yr old Mom can even call herself that! I wrote out the check...feeling sick...and exhilarated...and happy all at the same time...probably much the same feeling as a person gets the first time they try drugs. At first it's uncomfortable...scary even...and then...it just feels GOOD. And when I roll outta town this week...with my new jeans on my butt...that's what I'm gonna think..."Balla!"

...Now I gotta figure out a way to get those boots! ;)

..."tHeSe aRe a fEw oF mY fAvoRiTe tHiNgS"...

2008-09-26T09:54:00.007-05:00

...A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS (in NO particular order)...

----------------------------------------------------------------------
~SHOES!!!
specifically:
-my tall "croc embossed" boots (I can't wait till it's cold enough to wear em again"
price = $120.00
-my black Donald Pliner boots (He makes AMAZING shoes...that I can't afford)
price = $300.00 (the most expensive shoes I own)
-any super high, cute wedges (like the new ones that I just got on sale at Dillard's last week...they are COMPLETELY impractical being that they are pink and yellow and green plaid with a 4 inch wedge...but OH SO CUTE!)
price= normally $79.00...on clearance for $19.00!!!
-pointy toed, high heels that make me look super tall
PRICE = $20.00 and up~going out feeling HOT in my heels
$PRICELESS
----------------------------------------------------------------------

~JEANS (I can NEVER have too many!!! I am thinking about splurging on some Seven For All Mankind for the fall...but it's hard to drop that kinda cash on jeans.)
PRICE=anywhere from $30.00 to $300.00 depending on the brand~Knowing my butt looks GREAT in my jeans
$PRICELESS
----------------------------------------------------------------------

~my MAC (17 inch widescreen MacBook Pro)
PRICE=$2,799...(worth every penny)~Reconnecting with friends and family...BLOGGING...watching GYM JONES or CROSSFIT videos on my MAC
$PRICELESS
----------------------------------------------------------------------

~ACCESSORIES! (purses...jewelry...belts...THESE THINGS can make the difference in looking good, and looking GREAT! I have hooks ALL OVER my closet to hang belts and purses on, which is why my brother called me a "HOOKER" the day he came to hang them up. Gotta a love big brothers!)
PRICE = from $10.00 on up
~Feeling PERECTLY PUT TOGETHER...
$PRICELESS
----------------------------------------------------------------------

~FOOD from my favorite Mexican Restaurant MARIANO'S
PRICE = approx $20.00~LUNCH with a friend...good conversation...laughter
$PRICELESS
----------------------------------------------------------------------

~Good running shoes
PRICE = approx $100.00~a PERFECT run (one with my friend W or one where the temperature is just right and I feel like I could run without stopping forever!)
$PRICELESS
----------------------------------------------------------------------

~Playing DOMINOES (esp "Mexican Train")
PRICE = $10.00~Spending time with my FAMILY
$PRICELESS
----------------------------------------------------------------------

~Going to the GYM
PRICE = $20.00 - $60.00 a month depending on the gym~Feeling STRONG and UNSTOPPABLE when I'm faster than than "the boys" at the gym (which doesn't happen too often)
$PRICELESS
----------------------------------------------------------------------

~My CHILDREN
PRICE = 9 months of pregnancy...excrutiating pain and $5,000 dollars for delivery...lots of hard work, tears, and laughter...$35.00 a month for school lunch...$70.00 a month for swim team...$150.00 for soccer (uniform/cost to play/etc)...back to school clothes $500.00...PTA membership $6.00 a yr...birthday parties $$$$$...Nanny approx $20,000 a yr...college $$$thousands...weddings $$$ thousands...etc etc etc~all of the notes taped to my mirror that say "I love you, Mom!"...endless kisses and hugs...pride when they score a goal, finish a race, or do something kind...
$PRICELESS
----------------------------------------------------------------------

*I had the week from HELL...I can't point to one particular thing that made it so...but I've felt down...ALOT. After compiling this list, I realize how lucky I am...and how "rich" my life is. So to the VERY few people that read this...I recommend that you do the same...it's amazing how much better you'll feel! I'm goin to shop and eat lunch!

...yOu kNoW yOu aRe geTTiNg oLd wHeN...

2008-09-20T13:29:00.022-05:00

Today, I'm a mess. I look like what I call "the ass end of hard times" (excuse my french). My hair is stringy. My face looks dull and my belly is "poochy" from too many pancakes at IHOP. I'm sleepy and cranky and I can't seem to take a joke. My 12 year old daughter once called me a "FUN-SUCKER", because she said I "suck the fun out of everything". I was highly offended and I would normally disagree...but I think the title is fitting today. It makes me feel old. Actually, with my 39th birthday fast approaching...I feel like I AM getting old...and if any of these things that I am about to describe apply to you...chances are...you are getting old too!

YOU KNOW YOU ARE GETTING OLD WHEN...

*You hear the song "1985" by Bowling for Soup and you think..."WOW! Is that song about ME?"

*You can't tell how old people are...all you know is they ALL look younger than you.

*You lie on a bed...head practically hanging upside down...and look into a mirror to see if you look better with gravity pulling your face back.

*You say words like "grody".

*You can say the lines of movies like Sixteen Candles" ("Whats a happenin, Hot Stuff!")..."St. Elmo's Fire" (KIRBY! You'll freeze to death!")..."Say Anything" ("I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen.") or "Breakfast Club" ("You mess with the bull, you'll get the horns!") right along with the characters...AND you still laugh...every time.

*You complain of knee and hip pain...and your joints sound like Rice Krispies...snap! crackle! pop!...when you move too quickly or you bend down to pick something up off the floor.

*You are asked if you're eligible for the "SENIOR CITIZEN DISCOUNT" at Ross on a Tuesday by a moron behind the counter with a double digit I.Q....I mean seriously! I don't look a day over 40! (j/k...I'm 38 and that IS a TRUE story...one that nearly caused me to commit an assault!)

*You can't watch a movie on DVD past 9 pm without falling asleep.

*You are too TIRED to go to the mall (that's just sad!).

The fact is...most people say I look younger than my age...and I work hard to maintain ANY semblance of my youth. Somedays, I feel young...vibrant...strong. Others...like today...I feel old. I'm gonna go watch "Weird Science" or somethin.

...gO oR gEt oFF tHe pOt!...

2008-09-17T12:26:00.014-05:00

Do you ever have days where you can't seem to decide what to do...what you like...who you want to do what with...etc etc etc? Do you have people like this in your life? You never know what to expect. They are hot and cold...but never in between. This is where certain expressions like...COOK OR GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN!...JUST DO IT!...GO OR GET OFF THE POT!...come to mind.I really like consistency. I like to KNOW what will happen. I like to KNOW what I can expect out of my friends and family. This is NOT to say I like to always do the SAME THING or that I don't want to shake things up from time to time...it just means that I don't like to be left wondering. I don't like expecting a person to react or behave a certain way and then have them do the complete opposite. It's like living in The Twilight Zone where nothing is as it should be...and as you can probably guess...The Twilight Zone ALWAYS scared me.So, if you are in my life and you love me or even care about me in the least...PROVE IT!...SHOW IT!...BE THERE!...or LEAVE.

...gUiTaR hErO wiDoW...

2008-09-16T09:00:00.006-05:00

I have been married for 17 years to a great guy. He loves me (not the easiest feat most of the time) and I love him. In some ways, we are similar...but in others...we are complete opposites. Just like every couple that has been together for a long time...we've gone through times of ease and happiness and love...and we have stuck it out through some tough times and differing opinions. As much as I'd like to tell you that we are as passionate as we were in college...when we started dating...I have to admit that 3 kids...a demanding work schedule (his)...and many years together have changed a few things...like the way we spend our nights and weekends.Some men go out with their friends. They drink...they play poker...they camp and hunt with their buddies. My husband has never been one to do those things. If he isn't at work...he's at home with me or with the kids...not because I demand or require that...because he chooses to. In fact, I have encouraged him many times to go do things HE wants to do. Some women probably worry about what their husbands are doing when they are gone...they may wonder where their husbands are at 2 AM on a Friday night. I NEVER wonder. I know. He's standing in the family room with a tiny plastic guitar across his chest rockin out to GUITAR HERO. At times in the past...I have thought that it looks a little ridiculous...this uber smart, serious, 6 ft 5in man...concentrating on hitting the right notes on primary colored plastic buttons...trying to beat Slash in a face off with guitar notes.Sometimes I refer to myself as a "GUITAR HERO widow". Sometimes I wonder..."Aren't I sexy enough to compete with a plastic guitar and some cheesy graphics?" I remind myself that he loves me...and that really it is just a refreshing break from his highly stressful, ultra serious job as a partner at an investment firm. I’m happy that he has a way to release the stress and I know that he enjoys it, so I am okay with him playing GUITAR HERO...even if it does mean I'm sleeping alone most Fridays...

..."tHiS iS wHy i'M hOt"...

2008-09-02T21:15:00.005-05:00

I SO want to be "HOT"!!!...I always have...sadly I never really felt truly "HOT"...especially when I was in high school and college. This will come as a shock to those that know me and put up with my self loathing on a daily basis...HOWEVER...I feel the hottest at almost 39 than I have in my life. You ask why...

Maybe it's because I'm in the best physical shape of my life. Is my body all I wish it could be??? No, but it's close. I'm not embarrassed to be naked...pretty good for a middle aged Mom. Maybe it's because I am financially able to take good care of myself...nails...pedicures...tanning...teeth whitening...cute clothes. Maybe it's all a matter of comparison...A LOT of Moms my age...well, they wear sweats or ill fitting clothing...they give everything to their kids at the expense of their health and happiness...they get lazy and figure there's no need for makeup or high heels when you stay home. Not me! I am a good Mom and a loving wife, but I take care of myself. I have found that when I do this, I am happier and in turn MY FAMILY IS HAPPIER TOO! I don't care if my only outings are to Target or Chick Fil A or the soccer fields. I dress like I'll be seen by all...makeup...tight jeans...heels. So what if I get a little mud on my heels as they sink into thew soccer field...I feel good when I look good. I freshen my makeup and I avoid pony tails. Does this mean that I think I'm perfect...or more beautiful than other women? No, not at all...I have no specials skills or qualities...ANYONE can do what I do.
The older I get...the more I realize that being HOT is NOT about perfection or a beautiful face. It's not about being a perfect size 2. It's not about a face without wrinkles. Being HOT is being the best possible version of yourself. It's about finding jeans that make your butt look good...size 2 and perky...or size 20 and..not so perky. Being HOT is about confidence...it's a state of mind. Remember the "hot cheerleader" in high school?...the one that was not really pretty...or skinny...or nice...still EVERYONE thought she was HOT. I see an ex cheerleader from my high school around town and she's nothing special...yet she still prances around...nose in the air...thinkin she's "hot s*** on a shingle". It's not because she looks better that people put her on a pedestal...then and now...it's because she carries herself as such and people buy it.

It was and is all about how we see ourselves. I personally get embarrassed when a strange man compliments me in a store. It happens from time to time and I just want to crawl under a rock when it happens. WHY?!? I feel guilty when other women's husbands look my way. I'm ashamed when other women...ones in sweats and pony tails...glare at me like I'm somehow doing something to THEM when I walk past...tight jeans...cute top...high heels...and hair styled. I need to be done with that. From now on, I need to hold my head high and when I face these "HATERS"...I will sing a little song in my head..."THIS IS WHY I'M HOT. THIS IS WHY I'M HOT. THIS IS WHY...THIS IS WHY...THIS IS WHY I'M HOT. I'M HOT CUZ I'M FLY! YOU AIN'T CUZ YOU NOT! THIS IS WHY...THIS IS WHY...THIS IS WHY I'M HOT!"

...wHaT dO YOU beLieVe???...

2008-08-28T12:01:00.016-05:00

.........What do YOU believe?...think?...love?.........

...iNviSibLe...

2008-08-27T22:35:00.001-05:00

Do you ever feel invisible? Sometimes I do. At times, I can be physically surrounded by people and feel all alone. Those days are not fun. They envelope me...and the feelings that accompany them seem to seep into aspects of my life that are unrelated. Today I was alone most of the day. It really got to me during lunch. I sat and watched groups and couples eat...and I... was all alone. Then I went to a high end furniture store. I walked in expecting the whole, "Hi Maam. Is there anything I can help you find?" pitch. I was dressed nice...having a good hair day...glossy lips...everything just so. I heard the sales associates ask other shoppers that...but not me. I was in there and passed 4 different workers. Not ONE said a word to me. I caught myself spiraling into a depression. Suddenly, I felt like I have no friends...like nobody loves me...like a failure. I let every insecurity...every fear overtake me. I wandered around...miserable...and then I looked at my watch. I realized that school was out, so I went home to be with my kids. In their eyes, I am important ...special ...beautiful. I had a hard day, but as soon as I felt my daughter's arms around my waist...hugging me...looking up at me with love...suddenly I did not feel invisible anymore.

...LiVe LiFe aNd LaUgH tHe sTrEss aWaY...

2008-08-24T21:25:00.010-05:00

Everyone feels the effects of stress at times. I know I do. I haven't worked...at a job I get paid for that is...in 11 years. I quit to be a full time Mom when my oldest daughter was 1 and a half. That's what I've done...I've been a Mom...and since my kids are all in school now...I've been a "lady of leisure" at times. I got up, got kids off to school, went to workout...for however long I chose (usually a couple of hours), came home and blogged while I ate a post workout snack, took a shower, and then lunched with my Mom or sister and shopped...or got my nails done...or my hair...or whatever I wanted to do until later in the afternoon when it was time to get back to being...Mom.

My brain was turning to mush. I NEEDED to do something. The thing is...I don't NEED to work...and I don't NEED the money...what I NEED is something of my own...somewhere that I need to be. I NEEDED to get out of my easy, lazy, comfort zone and stretch myself...explore the possibilities. So, at the suggestion of some friends...I headed down the path to becoming a personal trainer. Working out is what I love. There have been days in my life where it was the only thing I looked forward to...the only thing that made me happy. It's been a tough transition for me to go from trainEE to trainER. Not because I don't know form or exercises...because I struggle with confidence. I come off like I'm secure...but it's a mask to cover the way I REALLY feel most of the time. I went to school...I took a test...I spent a lot of time watching and learning...I went to a specialized certification...and now I'm working. I don't have many clients so I don't work many hours...just a few hours...a few days a week. Still at times I feel stress. I wonder if I'm doing a good job. I worry that my kids will need me when I'm gone. Sometimes...when I have to be at the gym at 6 A.M to cover a class....I feel exhausted. I wonder if I should go back to the days of long walks through the mall with shopping bags in both hands and pedicures...the days when I had nowhere to be...and all day to get there. I'd feel less stress, but I know I wouldn't be happy.

If I could create a perfect little world...one that ran by MY rules...I make sure that I never have to feel stressed...but I don't live in a perfect world. I know that I cannot escape worry...or fatigue...or stress. There is no magic pill. And although, stress will creep into my life many more times before my life is over...there is something that can help. I saw this commercial the other night and it made me think. It's really a retirement commercial, but the sound of that baby laughing helped me realize that there is a cure of sorts. It may not be permanent, but it will almost always help take the stress or sadness or frustration away. It's laughter.

It has been said that "People don't stop laughing and having fun because they get old...they get old because they stop laughing and having fun!" Who knows if that is true...but what do I have to lose by trying. So the next time my day sucks...the next time I trip...or lose my keys...or embarrass myself...or just screw up in general...maybe I'll try laughing. It may not fix the problem, but it sure can't make things worse either. Just think how amazing life could be if something as simple as tearing paper made us laugh like that baby...

...aM i stRoNg eNoUgH?...

2008-08-15T11:36:00.005-05:00

If you stood outside a mall and asked 100 people to say the first word that comes to mind when you say the word “strong”, I bet you would hear the word muscle and bodybuilder more than a few times. Most of us equate strength with big biceps…with moving something heavy from one place to another. There are hundreds of supplements, pills, and shakes on the market to help people that are searching for strength. Some people go to great lengths to become stronger…even if it destroys their body or even takes their life in the process.

I know it is a great source of frustration for me at times in the gym. I want to press more…to squat more…lift more weight than I do. It’s easy to feel weak when you spend so much time working out…with mostly men. I know at times, I get really down on myself when I don’t do as well as I hope to do in the gym. It’s hard to keep it all in perspective. It’s hard to not let my failure there…creep into the rest of my life. I’m always comparing…wondering…”Am I strong enough?”

I recently read an article that helped me remember that strength is more than bulging biceps and 6 pack abs. In an article called “The Iron”, Henry Rollins talks about how lifting weights changed his life…taught him…made him stronger...in more ways than just the obvious. I loved every word he had to say, but one paragraph in particular forever changed the way I think about strength.He said, “Muscle mass does not always equal strength. Strength is kindness and sensitivity. Strength is understanding that your power is both physical and emotional. That it comes from the body and the mind. And the heart.”

Sure, I still want to increase the amount I can lift. I will always be striving for more…but I realized that I am not as weak as I once thought. In fact, I am much stronger than some of the very people that I compare myself to. I’m far from perfect. I get mad and I say things I don’t mean. I do not always build others up as I should…but I AM a kind person. I DO care. I am very sensitive about the way other people feel. I feel terrible if I think that I have hurt another person. I protect others…even to my own detriment at times.

So forget the fact that my legs did not cooperate with my heart today in the gym. Forget the fact that my one rep max on a dead lift is a warm up for some men. Beauty fades…bodies age…and muscles shrink…but kindness and sensitivity are lasting. So am I strong enough? IN THE WAYS THAT COUNT I AM!

..."iS cHiVaLrY dEaD?!?"...

2008-08-05T12:59:00.003-05:00

It's happened ever since I can remember...every time a man has been rude or does not hold the door for us or another woman and I'm with my mom...she always says, "Well, I guess chivalry is dead!" I've always thought it was so funny when she says that...not funny ha ha...funny as in odd...funny in that it never seems like such a big deal...until YOU are the one with a door in your face. One minute you are carefree...smiling...the next thing you know...your nose is pressed against the glass and you are left asking yourself..."Did that REALLY just happen?"

Last week my daughter and I were out furniture shopping for her room that we are redecorating. It was hot. We were tired. It's hard work shopping...especially on a budget! So we had already had lunch a few hours earlier and we were feeling quite parched. Being the divas that we are (at times)...we decided that it was crucial that we stop for a drink at the nearest 7-11. I paid NO attention to the neighborhood, pulled off the highway, and made my way into the parking lot. Right away I'm thinking..."Not the best location"...there was an auto parts store next to it with lots of strange men fixing their cars right there in their parking space. I looked around. Hmmmm...not the best clientele...but we'll just bop in, grab a drink, and "blow this popsicle stand"! So I parked as close to the door as I could and we made our way into the 7-11...ALL eyes on US! We got to the door and I swung it open with confidence. I figured it's like being in the wild...you don't want to let the creatures "smell your fear". I held the door for my sweet girl to walk through. As I opened it, I even said, "Cmon sweetie! Let's get you something to drink." Before I coud finish the sentence...BAM!...some strange man on a cell phone pushes past my daughter to come out before she can go in! Did I mention that he literally PUSHED her aside?!? OH NO YOU DIDN"T!!!

I went into full fledged Mama Bear...Man Hater mode! I stopped and asked him in a loud, authoritative voice, "What is wrong with you?" He "woke up" from whatever world he was occupying and dribbled some lame apology...funny how forceful a "man" he was before...now he's been reduced to a stammering boy with one question! Before he could fully "spit it out"...I continued with..."YOU should be holding the door for US! At the very LEAST...you should stand back and let us come in or use the other door!" I couldn't stop. I said, "...And how dare you physically push my daughter aside so that you can go out first!?!" I finished with the line EVERY Mom uses at some point in her life..."You should be ashamed of yourself!" He was still mumbling apologies as he walked...quickly...to his car. SIGH. I straightened my blouse and walked into that convenience store...teetering on my high heels...Jackie O glasses still in place...and asked...no one in particular..."Is chivalry dead?". Funny...NO ONE was brave enough to answer...

...hOw cAn i bE sUrE?...

2008-07-29T14:51:00.017-05:00

How do I know that a person really cares? How can I be sure? This is how I KNOW I have a friend that cares. These things make me sure...

My friend brings out the best in me. I am a klutz. I am always late. My friend taught me balance...both physical balance and balance in my personal life. My friend embraces all the qualities that make me who I am...and lets me know that even still...I AM okay...and that there will be someone waiting for me when I arrive...late...as usual...that will still be glad to see me and greet me with a smile. I do everything in the most awkward fashion and I lose my temper...a lot. My friend trained me to be "less awkward" (in the gym at least) and even made me good at some of my endeavors there. My friend is my "outlet" when I am mad...or sad for that matter...a safe haven where I can vent and share my disappointments without harsh judgement. Most of the time, I say the wrong thing...most of the time and I doubt myself and my abilities. My friend treats me like I am good...and therefore I am. My friend tells me that I am capable...and so I go and do. My friend tells me that I am strong...and through him I became so. My friend knows a lot, but still asks my advice...this tells me that I have something to give...that I am smarter than I thought. My friend tells me that I can...and this gives me courage. These things tell me that I have a true friend...someone that cares.

I know that my friend has to go. It makes me sad, but I know that our paths crossed for a purpose. I know it was meant to be. Anyone can find a person to spend time with...to laugh with...to have fun with...but finding a person that touches your life...that leaves you better than they found you...is a gift from God. In this, I find joy.

...wHy iS iT sO hArD tO LeT gO?...

2008-07-25T11:18:00.010-05:00

"WHY CAN'T WE GET ALL THE PEOPLE TOGETHER IN THE WORLD THAT WE REALLY LIKE AND THEN JUST STAY TOGETHER? I GUESS THAT WOULDN'T WORK. SOMEONE WOULD LEAVE. SOMEONE ALWAYS LEAVES. THEN WE WOULD HAVE TO SAY GOOD BYE. I HATE GOOD BYES. I KNOW WHAT I NEED. I NEED MORE HELLOS." ~Charles M. Schulz  

These are the thoughts in my mind that cause the pain in my heart...

Why can't I say goodbye without a second thought? Why is it that I tell myself that I'm okay...and I AM...for a LONG time...and then suddenly...one day...I'm NOT anymore? Why do I try so hard to hold on when I know letting go is necessary...inevitable? I knew this was coming. I thought I was okay. I was not sad. What happened?

I'll tell you what happened...

We laughed. We talked. We ran. He gave me advice and I returned the favor. We were serious and we joked. We raced. I told him my fears and he shared his worries. What happened was friendship in the truest form. And THAT...is what makes it hard to anticipate a good bye...again.

...LiFe LeSSoNs fRoM sAnD DoLLaRs...

2008-07-20T16:03:00.002-05:00

My last post was about my wonderful morning on the beach with my son...and how much he taught me with his search for sea shells. It seems that the lessons were not over. I talked about finding sand dollars and how surprised I was by their "natural" appearance. The night before we left the beach, my husband and I were packing...not just our clothes...but beach chairs and sand toys and gathering all the miscellaneous items strewn around the villa. As I picked up the bag of broken shells, I saw the sand dollars that my son and I found that morning on the beach. They looked so gross. I had done some research online and gathered instructions on how to take the ugly, hairy, brown sand dollars and make them perfect and white, but I wondered if it was worth all the effort. I also knew that I would have to put them in a ziploc bag to bring them home and dreaded the smell that would accumulate inside. Still, I promised my son that we would make them beautiful when we got home. I could not look into those brown eyes and tell him that I had left them...so I dropped them in the bag and sealed the top. When we arrived home from vacation, I took them out of the plastic bag and choked down the urge to gag as the aroma of dead fish followed. I held my nose and started the process of beautifying our sand dollars. I put a mixture of water and bleach in a bowl and dropped them in. The change was amazing to watch. Immediately...the hairy sand dollars were smooth and the brown and green began to fade. I repeated the process...knowing that if I dipped them in bleach too many times...they would become weak and break apart. Two of them disintegrated immediately. One that was especially small and gross was beautiful...perfect. The other two...one small and one large...were still slightly discolored, but mostly white. I was amazed by the beauty that was underneath all that dirt and hair. I immediately thought about how glad I was that I took the time to bring them home and clean them...glad that I endured the smell...glad that I have a little boy that still sees the good...the beauty...the potential in everything and everyone around him and that holds me to the same standard.

My amazement turned into the thought that many times, people are a lot like those sand dollars. Some people are easy to like. They are desirable...strong...beautiful...like the clean smooth sand dollars that made it through the process. There are other people that we are not naturally drawn to. They have limitations and are weak...like the sand dollars that broke when I placed them in the bleach. And still others may repulse us...they are ugly and have a rough exterior. We wonder...much like I wondered about those dirty sand dollars the night before we left...if they are worth the discomfort and time it will take to see who they REALLY are underneath all that.

I learned that people and things are not always what them seem at first glance. If we don't take the time or we are repulsed by appearances, we may never experience the joy and beauty waiting to be found. I also learned that most of my joy came from working to improve the appearance of those sand dollars. Those sand dollars mean something to me because I took the time to go through the process of cleaning them MYSELF...and through that process...and the miraculous end result...I learned some important life lessons.

...beAutY iS iN tHe eYe oF tHe beHoLdeR...

2008-07-09T08:49:00.007-05:00

"BEAUTY IS NO QUALITY IN THINGS THEMSELVES: IT EXISTS MERELY IN THE MIND WHICH CONTEMPLATES THEM." -David Hume

There are moments in life that only happen once...the first time you hold your baby in your arms...your first kiss...the first time you witness something truly spectacular...with your own eyes. For some people...that "something spectacular" is one of the wonders of the world or a beautiful sunset...for others...the simplest of things can seem spectacular. I witnessed this firsthand this morning.

My son spent hours collecting pieces of broken shells yesterday. I kept telling him that those were not shells...that they were just broken pieces...but he did not care. He continued to collect them like treasures. My husband and daughters were going on an early morning horse ride that my son is too young to go on, so I told him that he and I would go out on the beach early...at sunrise...because that's when you find REAL treasures on the beach. I got him up at 6:30 A.M. and we headed out close to 7. He was excited. In fact, he was bugging me to go the whole time I was brushing my teeth. We got our pails...and shovels...and set out on our treasure hunt.

The beach is an amazing place early. It is like a completely different world...not ANYTHING like it is during the day. The pelicans are diving for their morning breakfast...men are fishing...it's quiet and peaceful...everything looks new and refreshed. We saw lots of cool stuff. We saw a man fishing that caught a stingray. My son got to see it flutter and see the big barb on it's tail. Another man caught a small shark and let J watch him take the hook out and throw it back out in the ocean. Then, there was a big shell that we came upon...the shell of a horseshoe crab. A lady told him that they are one of the oldest creatures...that they date back to prehistoric times. He touched the shell and we continued on. An older woman showed us how to find sand dollars coming up out of the sand. We got 4 small ones and 1 medium sized one. I was excited, but also surprised how dirty and hairy and smelly they are when you find them. I expected them to be smooth and white and beautiful. I didn't know until I got back to the villa and did some research that they have to be cleaned and preserved.
I had so much fun this morning on the beach, but still...with all we saw...and all the shells we came upon...intact...my son continued to collect broken pieces of shells. I caught myself feeling frustrated...not outwardly...but I couldn't help but wonder why he kept picking up what seemed like trash to me. As we walked along and he found another piece of shell, he would tell me how beautiful it was...how special...how lucky he was to find it. No matter how many broken shells he found...no matter how similar they were...he found something unique...beautiful about each and every one.

I had my own "spectacular moment" and I learned an important lesson this morning on the beach. I will cherish the things that I learned at the feet of my child. I have to wonder how many times in my life I have walked past things that seem broken...ugly...worthless. I wonder how much joy and how much beauty that I have overlooked in my quest for perfection. My 6 yr old taught me to stop overlooking the beauty that is at my feet everyday. He does not see the shells as they are...broken. He sees them as they could be...as they once were. There is beauty all around me that I never see.

...i uNdeRsTaNd...

2008-06-28T15:36:00.023-05:00

“YOUR WORST DAYS ARE NEVER SO BAD THAT YOU ARE BEYOND THE REACH OF GOD'S GRACE, AND YOUR BEST DAYS ARE NEVER SO GOOD THAT YOU'RE BEYOND THE NEED OF GOD'S GRACE.”
--------------------------Anonymous--------------------------

Everyone has those days. Some of us just have more than others. When I say "those days", I'm referring to days where it seems no matter how hard you try...you can't do anything right...no matter how hard you work...it isn't hard enough...no matter how nice you try to be...the favor is not returned...and then in the end when all else fails, and you decide to ignore it...to keep putting one foot in front of the other...and to try and stay positive or to hold back the tears...it becomes impossible to do so and you suffer yet another failure. "YOU'RE A LOSER!" Those are the words I hear in my head on days like that...days like today.

I'm trying so hard to do something. It's really difficult for me to put myself out there...to step outside of my comfort zone...to make mistakes and know there are more to come, but I know that growth and change can only come if I continue to try...no matter how hard it may seem. When I try and I fail in these times or when I let other people down in the process...it is indescribable...crushing even. I've NEVER wished for fame or fortune...I've NEVER expected special treatment...I just want to feel loved...like I'm worth the air I breathe. It sounds dramatic...negative...exaggerated. A friend once said that I am the most negative person he's ever met. I couldn't defend myself...I know it is true. Even still...he compliments me and reminds me that "I CAN..." It builds me up. That's why I call him a friend.

So many times...things are not as they appear...or seem to be. Anyone who saw me today...standing...laughing...cheering...talking probably thought I was feeling confident...comfortable. I wasn't. I'm a pretty good actress when I need to be. I was scared and unsure...nervous...but I pushed forward. I thought that I had done it...that I had been successful to a certain degree. I was aware of my shortcomings, but still I tried to believe that I did well,...and then I was made aware. It was like a Peanuts cartoon when an adult speaks. The criticism was clear...all the other words were background noise...unrecognizable. I was holding on to the hope that in the end, I would hear "good job"...that amongst all the "wrongs" there was a "right"...at least ONE. No such luck...not today.

I was told that I don't understand. If only he knew. I don't need details to understand. I understand. He is the one that does not understand. He would regret his words if he knew my secrets...if he knew how I truly DO...understand.

...eMbrAciNg LiFe...

2008-06-22T07:28:00.001-05:00

I try to control everything...I worry too much...I always look behind me because I'm too unsure to look ahead...I doubt my abilities...I hang on every word. This is not living. I need to stop covering my eyes and avoiding the roller coaster ride we call life. I need to throw my hands up and allow myself to feel the wind on my face and the thrill in my belly. I need to enjoy life.

...LeArNeD HeLpLeSsNesS...

2008-06-01T22:06:00.003-05:00

I'm not an animal rights activist. I'm not an animal lover...or even an animal liker for that matter. I don't hate animals. I don't hurt animals. I just don't prefer to have a bunch of pets. I don't want to sleep with animals at night or have them sit in my lap. I'm perfectly fine with fur...I eat meat...and I love leather and snakeskin. I think it's safe to say I won't be joining a PETA protest anytime soon...so it goes without saying that I don't read much about "cruelty to animals". I didn't know how circus elephants are "trained" until last week. When I heard the process by which they are trained...it made me kinda sad for the elephants...but it also helped put some things in my life into perspective.

Obviously, elephants are very powerful animals...and much stronger than humans. They have the power to escape from the circus...it's just that they don't know it. The elephants are caught when they are very young and they are chained to strong stakes that are driven deep in the ground. They struggle and fight to free themselves but the chain is too strong. Eventually, the elephant realizes that it can't break free and it quits trying. From that day on, the elephant believes that it cannot free itself as soon as it feels any resistance at all. In fact, a circus elephant can be tied to a small flimsy stake with a thin piece if rope and it will not try to escape because it has been conditioned to believe that it is powerless. This is called "learned helplessness".

Elephants are not the only creatures that can be conditioned this way. Humans can as well. If a person is told how worthless they are...over and over and over again...soon they will believe that they are. If people tell you that "you can't"...or shouldn't...enough times...eventually you won't even try. I wonder if those elephants can ever be "untrained". I wonder if it's possible for them to realize their strength and their ability to go where they want to go. My guess would be that it isn't possible after a certain amount of time.

I've always felt like I can't...like I will fail. So many times I've behaved like a circus elephant. I have the power to tear free and do whatever I want to do, but I rarely try because I worry that I'll fail. As soon as I face resistance...I feel helpless. I worry that I have been conditioned to fail..to lose...to give up. Thinking about this makes me sad. I am so much better than I use to be...than I thought I could ever be. My friend gave me a gift. He brought things out in me that surprised me...glimpses of strength...moments of feeling like a winner. That is priceless. I think that just like the elephant...I will always have some small form of "learned helplessness" that holds me back at times. I can't change what has happened to me, but I CAN try hard to build other people up...to in a sense free them from the heavy chains before they learn to feel helpless. I especially want my kids to grow up feeling like their potential is limitless. I want them to realize the power that they each have within themselves. I want to teach them to fight against any resistance, because I don't ever want them to give up or feel helpless...like me.

...tHe bEsT oF Me...

2008-05-15T08:37:00.005-05:00

My friend once said, "My music is the soundtrack of my life." I've often thought that it would be so cool to have music play in the background...as I go through my day...just like in the movies. Music is so powerful...it can enlighten...it can enrage...it can calm...it can motivate...it can bring out a whole range of emotions...and it can bring the most complicated situation into focus.

I like all kinds of music and I listen to music a lot. Everyday while I put on make up and do my hair...everyday when I do my cardio...everyday in the car...I listen to music. I'm going through some inner turmoil and confusion. I feel drained and I almost feel like I've forgotten who I am in my quest to become more. I was on the phone with my husband the other day and I said, "I just need a break...I just need to loosen the noose...". I immediately thought of a line in a song that I like to listen to when I workout..."The Best Of You" by The Foo Fighters. This song is truly the soundtrack of how I feel right now.

Once...a long time ago...when I was working out...my friend told me to jump up, grab the pull up bar, get my chin over, and hang with my legs straight for as long as I could. I did...and I struggled and winced and squirmed to keep my chin above the bar as soon as it got uncomfortable. Another trainer and his client were watching me. When I fell from the bar and got ready to try again, the other trainer said, "Don't screw up your face and wiggle your legs. When you do that, you take the energy that you need to hold yourself up and transfer it somewhere else." What a metaphor for life. I'm taking the energy that I NEED...to improve myself...and I'm using it to struggle in the attempt to "hang on"...when if I would let the pain and fear and frustration go...I would have what I need "to keep my chin up" and hang on a little longer. I've been giving away the best of me...

TODAY I'M TAKING IT BACK.

...mEnTaL pAraLySiS...

2008-05-01T08:23:00.005-05:00

I remember the day...not so long ago...that my trainer tried to teach me an exercise...an Olympic lift...the Push Jerk. It's a complicated...advanced movement...one that is difficult to teach and even more difficult to learn. I stood there...feeling extreme pressure. I knew people were watching...and I had been given the instructions...over and over and over. I had failed...many times...and I was afraid. There are so many movements involved that my mind was racing...dip...drive up...open the hips...small jump...not too big...fall under the bar...full extension of the arms. I just stood there...mind racing...staring at myself in the mirror...no words...no movement. It seemed like forever and I knew I needed to go...to try again...to move. Suddenly, I almost felt as though I had stepped outside myself. I was thinking, "Why am I just standing here? Why can't I move?" I could see my trainer's face reflected in the mirror...puzzled look...dead silence. Eventually I did try...again...only to fail...again.

As I sat down to journal my training progress for the day...frustrated...I replayed those events in my mind. I tried to make sense of what had happened. I have never been frozen like that before. It literally felt like I was paralyzed...and in retrospect...I have come to realize that I WAS...paralyzed. I was thinking so hard and I was so scared...that I suffered from mental paralysis. I also realized that this was not the first time that this had happened...it was just the first time I had become aware of it.

I started reading the book, "A Return To Love" by Marianne Williamson. Yesterday, I came across a passage that reminded me of this experience and helped give me some better understanding of why this had happened to me. This is what it said...

"A lot of us know we have what it takes-the looks, the education, the talent, the credentials. But in certain areas, we're paralyzed. We're not stopped by something on the outside, but by something on the inside. Our oppression is internal. The government isn't holding us back, or hunger or poverty. We're not afraid we'll get sent to Siberia. We're just afraid, period. Our fear is free floating. We're afraid this isn't the right relationship or we're afraid it is. We're afraid they won't like us, or we're afraid they will. We're afraid of failure or we're afraid of success. We're afraid of dying young or we're afraid of growing old. We're more afraid of life than we are of death."

I was recently given an opportunity...a chance to do something. I have stressed out...cried...and been excited by the possibilities that it could bring. I have known that it won't be easy...but I have also known that it is the right thing to do. It's just that...I was paralyzed...with fear.

It's hard to step into the dark...not knowing what I'll encounter...but to reach the light at the end of the tunnel...I know that I have to walk through that dark tunnel. I'm really scared, but I'm not paralyzed anymore. After the encouragement of a dear friend...I took the first step. It's dark and I'm nervous and I don't know what to expect...but I am trying my best to focus on the light and move towards it. I am fighting the inner voices that tell me that I can't...that say "What will others think?". I know that as long as I can take the smallest steps...as long as I can "wiggle my toes"...I'm not paralyzed...and that gives me hope.

...iT tAkEs PraCtiCe NOT tO qUiT...

2008-04-26T00:29:00.012-05:00

"IN EVERY ENDEAVOR, PEOPLE WHO CONCENTRATE AND REFUSE TO QUIT BECOME THE ELITE." -MARK TWIGHT

Quitting is natural. When I have faced a trial that doesn't seem to resolve itself quickly enough...my first instinct...is to quit. When I feel pain or suffer defeat...my natural response is to quit. I've been a quitter for most of my life. If I was scared...I quit. If I was hurt...I quit. If things got too tough..I quit.

My daughter's swim team coach once said, "After each race, your child should go to their coach before they go to you. The coach will tell your child something positive...something that needs to be corrected...and end with another positive comment." He continued to say, "We are not criticizing your child to make them feel bad, but to help correct their mistakes. We do this because I believe that a mistake that is not corrected, becomes a habit and a habit is harder to correct than a mistake." I think quitting was a habit for me. I know I never intended to become a quitter...but I was...for a long time.

I'm not a quitter anymore. I'm not a quitter because I practice not quitting everyday. They say that "Practice makes perfect." Just as a pianist does not play perfectly the first time they sit at a piano...I did not learn to endure the very moment that I made the decision to stop being a quitter. I don't remember one specific decision. I just know that little by little...I've learned that I can endure...I don't NEED to quit.

Everyday I practice. I practice NOT quitting. When I am sad and I want to climb in bed...when I want to quit my life...I get up and put one foot in front of the other. When I am scared...when I want to quit stepping outside of my comfort zone...I do what I can to face my fears. When someone disappoints me or hurts me...when I want to quit feeling used and close myself off to protect my feelings and my heart...I try to reach out and open up...one more time. When I workout and I feel pain...when I want to quit pushing and stop...I take one more step and go for one more minute.

I'm NOT perfect. Sometimes, I still quit...but I'm getting better. Each time I persevere, I am stronger. Each time I practice not quitting...I become less of a quitter.

...aT hOmE iN mY hEaRt...

2008-04-14T22:01:00.011-05:00

My friend and I saw each other the other day for the first time in many months. I had looked forward to seeing him with nervous anticipation. I was nervous about what it would be like after so much time had passed. I was afraid that we would be different...that conversation would be a struggle. I couldn't have been more wrong!

From the moment I saw him across the room...sitting at a table in our favorite Mexican restaurant...I felt comfortable. We talked. We laughed. It was as if no time had passed. We were able to pick up where we left off. That really did something for my heart and soul. As I've said before...I don't have many friends. I may be nice or polite or even friendly towards people...but I only let a few "special" people into my life...my heart. I have missed my friend like crazy. Something reminds me of him almost everyday...a song...a trail...an exercise...many things trigger memories. He's gone and won't be back...I settled that with myself a long time ago. He's happy where he's at...so I will put MY feelings aside and be happy for him too.

I don't know if I'm really dumb...or if I'm getting really old...or if I'm just very perceptive...but I seem to be learning more and more about life these days. After worrying about and anticipating our meeting for no reason...after having a lunch that was heaven to me (good food and one of my favorite people to share it with)...after driving away...still smiling 5 minutes down the highway...I realized that people may leave us physically, but if they are truly our friends...they never really go away because we keep them in our hearts.

When my friend called me a couple of months ago and said he was on his way "home" from Taiwan...I immediately thought that he was coming back...here...because I thought of THIS as home. When I realized that he was referring to a place very far away...a place he now calls home...I have to admit, it made me a little sad. I understood him staying there, but couldn't handle him calling it "home". The word home means a lot to me. Home is a familiar place...a place filled with people that know our stories...our history. Home is a place we can come to at the end of a long, hard day...for rest...a safe haven...a place to recover and renew. Home is a place where we can be our true selves. Our home is a place where we can rejoice when something good happens...we can sing in the shower...and jump for joy on the bed. The walls of our home keep our secrets. It is our sanctuary.

What I realized the other day, was that...when I am with my friend, my soul is relaxed and my heart is at home. His mailing address is not what matters. What matters...is that regardless of where he lives...or where he calls home...I'm secure knowing that a part of him is always here with me. If he wants to call Montana home...it's really okay...because he is always at home in my heart.

...like the night before Christmas...

2008-04-10T22:05:00.002-05:00

There are certain times in everyone's life that are memorable...times that are universally memorable. Christmas...getting married...having a baby...the first day of school...these are a few that come to my mind when I think of memorable times. They are times of excitement... nervousness... happiness... and anticipation.

I'm not a patient person. I don't like to wait...and I'm not one for surprises. I like to know how and when things are going to go down...so that I can prepare...so that I can get rid of some of that dreaded anticipation. I hate the way my mind races...trying to figure out what will happen. I worry about the outcome. Will it be as great as my mind has built it up to be? Will Santa bring what I wanted? Will my baby be healthy? Will the other kids at school like me? Will I be happy? What will I do if I'm not?

I realized tonight...that ridiculously enough...not only do I try to plan every detail so that things go the way I think they should...I try to plan my reaction...in advance. The anticipation sucks...but as much as I dread it...the anticipation is part of what makes these times memorable...exciting...great.

Tonight feels kind of like the night before Christmas for me. I'm so excited. The day that I have been waiting for...for a month...is here. I'm so happy. I will get something that I have wanted...something that I had given up on. I'm so scared. If this is not as good as I hope it will be...I'm not sure how I will react. I'd like to say that I can't control it...que sera sera...that life will go on...that it doesn't matter...but I'm not so sure about that.

My friend...the one I have missed terribly since he left months ago...is here...in town. We are going to meet for lunch tomorrow at our favorite restaurant. I have been looking forward to tomorrow ALL WEEK! I can't wait to see him with my eyes. Sometimes, I almost feel like I am forgetting what he looks like. I can't wait to talk...to laugh...he ALWAYS makes me laugh.

Today I started to feel nervous...which I didn't expect. When we talk...when we are together...I am always comfortable. Unfortunately, the anticipation is starting to mess with my mind. I'm afraid we won't have anything to talk about. I'm afraid he is seeing me out of obligation..not desire...that he will be in a rush to get done and leave. I'm afraid that maybe he will have changed...maybe he won't think I'm so great anymore...that things will be awkward or not go well. I'm afraid that if things don't go well...that I will be sad...REALLY sad.

My mind plays tricks on me, but my heart is different. My heart reminds me that he is my friend...a true friend...one that is there NO MATTER WHAT. My heart remembers how happy I am when we spend time together...when we talk...when we laugh. My heart tells me not to worry...to enjoy the moment that I have waited for. It would be "easy" in a way to give up or brace myself for the worst, but I won't. I will be confident in my friendship. I will trust my friend. Tomorrow will be everything I am hoping for.

...lUcKy...

2008-04-02T23:43:00.008-05:00

I've never considered myself lucky. I don't win contests. Opportunities don't just fall in my lap. I have to work for anything I get...I always have. I trip on cracks. I often say the wrong thing. I laugh at completely inappropriate times...times when I'm scared or nervous or when I am trying to avoid crying. It never fails...it rains and my umbrella turns inside out...getting me wet in spite of my effort to stay dry. I've always wanted to be lucky. When I was a little girl, I would sit in patches of clover...searching for a lucky four leaf clover...sometimes for hours. I never found one.

I don't get a chance to read much in my everyday life. If I'm sick or recovering...or if I'm on vacation...I'll read several books, but normally I don't take the time. Almost two months ago when I was laid up after surgery, I went through a week where I read 4 books. One book was a memoir written by the author of another novel I read years ago, Alice Sebold. She writes about her brutal rape and beating when she was a freshman in college and how it changed her life and her relationships as she struggled to deal with what happened to her. The title of her memoir is, "Lucky". It is titled as such because upon giving a description of the events and where they took place, the police told her that another girl had been killed and dismembered in the same place that she was attacked. They told her that in comparison...she was "lucky". It's an ironic title...a title that makes one stop and ask what it really means to be "lucky".

I started my marriage dirt poor. I cried every month when I had to pay the bills. We had one car...with no air conditioning. I got up at 4:30 AM to get ready to be at my job by 6AM at a convalescent home where I changed elderly people's diapers and fed them and sat with the ones that never got a visitor. We wore coats in our house in the winter because we couldn't afford to heat our tiny, old house. I watched other students...my same age...that were married and lived in nice apartments and that drove new cars that their parents paid for. I felt jealous...unlucky. It's been a long time since then. We are no longer dirt poor. We are very comfortable. Now I know that we were not unlucky. We appreciate what we have and where we came from, because we had to work hard to achieve success. Now I realize that we were lucky to have had the opportunity to become stronger and more grateful during the years we struggled to "make ends meet".

I've had to watch my weight my whole life. I'm not naturally thin. I always looked at "skinny" people and wondered why I couldn't be lucky like them. At one point, I weighed 200 lbs. I was miserable. I lost the weight. It was hard and it took me a long time. I had to fight for every pound I lost. I still fight...everyday...to maintain my weight loss. Now, I know that I am the lucky one, because I am in better shape. I am stronger, because I have to work to be thin. It's a conscious choice and only I can take credit for what I have become.

I have never been a "popular" kind of girl. I always had friends growing up, but I never had many...and most were guys. I've always felt insecure and socially inept. I am easily misunderstood. People that don't know me think I am a snob. I'm not. I am better now than ever, but I still have few friends and spend most of my time alone. I look at the groups of women together in restaurants during lunch...talking...laughing. I watch them from my table...alone. I think how lucky they are. I wish I wasn't alone. I feel unlucky. Then I get a phone call from a dear friend and my perspective changes. I may not have many friends, but I care so deeply for the few I have. They are not disposable...or one in a pool of many. Each one holds a place in my heart. Each one has made a difference in my life. That is worth more than a lunch date full of giggles and fake small talk. I am lucky to have a few true friends that I cherish.

This ironic title has helped me reevaluate what it means to be lucky. Life doesn't have to be easy. Friends don't have to be many. Money does not have to come free. I don't need to win contests. Raindrops eventually dry up. It's okay to struggle...to go without...to be left wanting. Sometimes, lucky is a state of mind...a choice. I am lucky, because I work to be so.

...pOweRfuL bEyONd mEAsUrE?...

2008-03-18T10:16:00.001-05:00

"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate,  but that we are powerful beyond measure.  It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.  We ask ourselves, ' Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?'  Actually, who are you not to be?  You are a child of God.  Your playing small does not serve the world.  There is nothing enlightened about shrinking  so that other people won't feel insecure around you.  We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us.  It is not just in some; it is in everyone.  And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people  permission to do the same.  As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

-Marianne Wiliamson

I sat on my bed with a sandwich Saturday afternoon. I turned on the TV and surfed for something to watch while I ate. I couldn't find anything so I settled in and left the channel on a movie that I really had no interest in..."Akeelah And The Bee". As I watched...surprised that it was better than I expected...I heard a part of this quote. I put down my sandwich and immediately searched online for the quote in it's entirety. It was like a switch flipped in my head. I pride myself on the fact that I tend to see the world a bit differently than most other people...but this was something truly different...life changing...thought provoking.

"Am I really inadequate or do I pretend to be? Do I pretend because I am afraid? Am I afraid of my own greatness? "

I'm not sure that I know the answers to these questions. I do know that I have lived my life worrying about what others think...worrying that I won't measure up. What I didn't realize until I heard those words, was that I have not only lived in fear of not measuring up...but I have lived in fear of achieving too much. I'm afraid I won't be good enough and people won't like me...and I'm afraid I'll be too good and people will hate me for it. I'm not sure how to change the way I feel...how to harness the power that I have within...but I guess recognizing that it is there...is the first step towards truly becoming "powerful beyond measure".

...wOrDs tO liVe bY...

2008-03-12T08:09:00.004-05:00

I love collecting poems and quotes, and I LOVE to shop! I have an addiction to buying workout clothes...and jeans...and shoes... As I was shopping for lululemon workout pants...(still haven't worked up the nerve to spend that much on a pair of workout pants...no matter how great they make a butt look)...I saw this and I LOVED it! It's from both worlds I love...shopping...and quotes. It's a bit hard to read, but if you click on it...it will enlarge. It contains some great "mantras", some good advice, and many words to live by. It made me happy, so I thought I would share...

Here are the top three things on here that I need to work on:

1. "DO ONE THING A DAY THAT SCARES YOU"

2. "SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE REPLACE THE WORDS 'WISH', 'SHOULD', AND 'TRY' WITH 'I WILL'. INEFFECTIVE PEOPLE DON'T.

3. "CHOOSE A POSITIVE THOUGHT. THE CONSCIOUS BRAIN CAN ONLY HOLD ONE THOUGHT AT A TIME."

What do YOU need to work on???

...mIss AlmOsT...mIss mAyBe...MiSS haLfwAy...

2008-03-06T08:55:00.010-06:00

I love Grey's Anatomy. Those darn writers and their stupid strike really screwed it up for me this season. I have characters that I like and ones that I don't...ones that are in between...

I love George...he's the guy friend that is always there when you need him...when everyone one else has left or given up. My only complaint...he's such a tortured wuss sometimes...and Callie...UGH!...can't stand her. I call her "McNasty Man Face". Dr. Bailey...she's the bossy "Mama" that you can't help but love. Even when she's mad...she makes me smile. Christina is annoying, but I can relate to her torturous pursuit of perfection and her inability sometimes to be close to people...her fear of being vulnerable. "McSteamy" is a pompous ass...a hot, sexy pompous ass. He's the bad boy that we all love to hate...the one we know we can't trust...but still can't resist...still want. Sometimes, I think I'm one of the few women in the world that HATES "McDreamy". I don't find him to be desirable...in ANY WAY. He's selfish and indecisive. Alex...he's the guy that tells it like it is. He doesn't sugar coat anything. He's unapologetic...but when Denny died and he carried Izzy off the bed...I loved him. Speaking of Izzy...Izzy is my favorite. I love her moments of greatness that come out of nowhere...her "blonde brilliance". It is so unexpected...such a breath of fresh air. I love that she is so much more than the beauty visible on the outside. It cracks me up when she jumps to crazy conclusions...and they're usually wrong...like when she thought "Mc Nasty Man Face" wanted to "fight" her in the cafeteria. I can relate to her crazy moments when she loses it and freaks out...inappropriately...in front of everyone. I LOVE that she laughs at inappropriate times...I can SO relate to that one...just ask Dr. Collini!

And then there is Meredith...I have a love/hate relationship with Meredith. Her constant self reflection...her self absorbed rants...her never ending internal issues can drive me nuts...that's the hate part. But I can't totally hate her, because I can relate to her in some ways...not in the screw random people way...or the "me me me" way...but in the broken...damaged..."I have issues" way. It's hard to be strong and talented and capable and likeable...and indecisive and fragile and scared and difficult at the same time. I know because I live it...every day...so as much as she drives me nuts...I can't hate her because it would be like hating a piece of myself.

So often, I've referred to myself as "MISS ALMOST"...almost smart enough...almost nice enough...almost strong enough...almost pretty enough...almost skinny enough...I feel like I'm...almost...but never enough. When I got the Grey's Anatomy Soundtrack and heard the song, "Miss Halfway"...I said, "That's me! I actually hear those voices in MY mirror everyday!" That's me..."Miss Almost...Miss Maybe...Miss Halfway". Take it or leave it! Love it or hate it! That's me.

...tOO oLd???...

2008-03-04T08:38:00.005-06:00

I have always hated the thought of getting old. Even when I was 13, I specifically remember saying that I was going to have plastic surgery when I "got old" and that I wanted to die at 35 because I would be "too old to do anything". Some things change, while others remain the same. Being older than 35, and in the best physical shape of my life, has changed my adolescent thoughts of what is "too old"...at the same time, being older than 35 also validates the fact that I don't want to get old. I hate wrinkles. I hate fighting gravity to keep my butt up where it should be. I spend a lot of time and money trying to look my best and not look like a frumpy old "mom". I feel like everyday, I'm fighting a losing battle against time. I do what I can, but believe me...no one is mistaking me for a twenty something!

I took my daughter to her first concert almost a week ago. I didn't really feel up to it physically being only 2 weeks after surgery. My sister was more than willing to take her for me and they would've had fun, but I wanted to be the one to have that first experience with her. As I stood there waiting to buy her a concert t shirt..I thought about how long it had been since I had been to a concert. It all felt so unfamiliar. I mean what happened to holding up a lighter during the concert? Now they sell flashing glow sticks! I looked around and saw all the girls...excited...squealing...wearing homemade shirts expressing their "love" for their favorite Jonas brother. When I looked over at my daughter smiling...her braces reminding me that my baby is growing up...I suddenly felt so old.

Where did the time go? When did I become middle aged? When did my every move become so "embarrassing" (according to my 12 yr old)??? You hear "old people" say that their life has passed in the blink of an eye...that they still feel young on the inside...which seems unbelievable when looking at the outside. We are told to take time to stop and "smell the roses"...to enjoy every moment...because time is fleeting. I always thought it was a crock...a bunch of crap...but I had a moment where time stopped for me standing there...surrounded by shiny braces and high pitched screams.

I realized that time is more precious than any of us think...that it will slip away from you if you are not careful. We should hold onto the "moments" in life as if we are trying to carry water in our hands. It will always pass...go away...eventually slip through our fingers...but we should carefully hold onto it for as long as possible...long enough to make memories. I realized that I can't stop time...I can't stay young forever...and wrinkles are inevitable. I'll probably always be embarrassing to my children...and I will never be 25 again...but I will always have the memories that I make.

The music started and all the girls' painful screams pierced through my ears. Everyone stood...even us "old" parents. My daughter started jumping...hands in the air...dancing with a sense of hesitation and the awkwardness that comes with being 12. I stayed still for a moment...knowing that any movement or enjoyment on my part would be humiliating to my daughter. I couldn't take it anymore! I threw my hands up and started to dance right next to her...waiting for her reproach. Just a short while earlier, she was correcting me for pretty much anything I was doing...and she wasn't being nice about it. I braced myself for some harsh words...but to my surprise...she turned and smiled and jumped a little higher and danced with a little more confidence. For a brief moment...I was young again...and together...we made a memory.

...soMetiMes gOOd guYs dOn't fiNisH LaSt...

2008-02-22T09:53:00.002-06:00

Some say that good guys finish last. I hate to admit it, but being the ultimate pessimist...I have always agreed with this. I am not implying that it is bad or wrong to be a "good guy"...and I am in no way suggesting that guys should all be mean and reckless. I've just seen it happen with people I like way too many times...and I'm embarrassed to say that I had my share of crushes on a number of "bad boys" in the past as well. I can think of a handful of guys that I was so attracted to in college. It almost seemed...chemical...uncontrollable. I knew it would never last and I knew my heart would suffer in the end, but still...those were the ones I wanted.

Now that many years have passed and I am "an old married lady"...one that chose a "good guy" in the end...I see how dumb it really is...this stupid law that we girls perpetuate. It is funny that what I once did, angers me now when I see it happen to guys that I love... family... friends. I remember just about 6 months ago...I was feeling frustrated...wondering how a sweet, but immature girl that I know couldn't see how great what she had was...and worse...wondering why such a great guy would accept that and STILL want her after being hurt like that...more than once. I was so mad that she was breaking the heart of someone that I love, but my only solace was that I hoped that one day...she would look back and regret the decisions she made out of youthful ignorance...that she would see that she wasn't going to find a better guy than the one she was throwing away.

That "good guy" has struggled and been through a seriously life changing experience since then. He's been through some pretty challenging times...externally adapting to a new life...and internally finding balance in that new life. I've often wondered how someone so great could be alone...why he seemed to finish last in love.

Now...he is happy. Finally...he has won the prize...a prize far greater than the one he sought after for SO LONG. He has found his "exception"...the girl that is smart enough to see what the others did not...one worthy of him. Nothing is ever certain. People can change over time...but I pray that for his sake...this is it. Lucky for him, there are exceptions to every rule. Lucky for us girls that fall for the "bad boys"... there are still "good guys" that keep trying and don't give up...even when they finish last a few times.

...QUALITY vs. QUANTITY...

2008-02-18T01:22:00.019-06:00

Most women don't want a big butt. Most women live in fear that their butt will look big in their jeans. Most women that work with a personal trainer want help becoming smaller...especially when it comes to their butt. Well, it's pretty obvious by now that I am NOT like "most" women...in this way or in many other ways. I like my butt big and round.

My old trainer, my friend...he understood and he delivered...I had a big butt...a really good, high, big butt. But most people...most people think I'm crazy...they wonder why ANY woman would WANT a big butt. My new trainer is surprised by this. He asks, "Do you REALLY want a "badonka donk butt"? My brother asks me if I know I'm a white girl...and YES...I know I'm a white girl. Lots of people think it's a joke...it's understandable. So, one day, I'm talking to a big, body builder type trainer at the gym. We are talking about my workouts...my diet habits...just random "workout stuff". And then...somehow...we got on the subject of my butt and my desire for it to be bigger. He laughed and said, "Now remember...there's a difference between quantity and quality!" We laughed and the conversation ended...but it got me thinking...not just about my butt...but about everything in my life.

The last few days...laying in bed recovering after surgery...I've had some extra time to think. It is so interesting to see who in my life is really here...when it's hard...when it's not fun...when I need help...when I have nothing to offer. I've always felt a bit sad that I don't have many friends...worried that I'm not good enough. I feel unlucky...like I'm missing out on something. I was home alone on Saturday...it was quiet...I had just woken up from a good, hard, drug induced nap. I was laying in bed, trying to wake up, and I decided to open my computer. A friend sent me an e-mail checking on me. After reading it, I thought about my friends and I thought about those words I heard not so long ago... "Now remember...there's a difference between quantity and quality!".

AHA! Everything became clear. No, I don't have a large QUANTITY of friends, but the few I have are QUALITY friends. I have a sister that is the best friend I will ever have. She's been there my whole life...she doesn't just know my history...she's part of it. She knows my darkest secrets and she has been a part of my greatest joys. We can speak to each other without saying a word. She can tell me things that no one else can. She is my greatest cheerleader. She thinks she needs me...that I am the strong one...but I know that it's the other way around. She is the reason that I tell my daughters, "You will never have a better friend than your sister." S, I love you with all my heart!

I have a dear friend...one of my favorite people in the world. I like him so much that I let him tell me what to do...and I don't let ANYONE tell me what to do. He has pushed me to my limits and he has comforted me in times of sorrow. He has helped me see the world differently and helped mold me into the best version of myself. No one makes me laugh like he does. He is far away now...and I miss him all the time...but even after all this time...when we speak...it's as if no time has passed. When we speak...I am happier than I was before. We can talk about anything...from frozen dinners to religion. He has an amazing...almost scary ability to call or text me at the very moment that I need him the most. He IS truly my real life super hero. W, I feel privileged to call you my friend!

I have a new friend...my new trainer. We are just beginning to know each other, but still he has shown genuine concern in times of trial. He has been my workout partner and has helped me accomplish one of the things I thought I would never do...because he refused to believe me when I said, "I can't." and he didn't give up on me. He has reminded me that there is always room for improvement. His texts and emails over the past week, have let me know that I may be gone but I am not forgotten. J, I haven't known you long, but I'm glad that our paths have crossed!

Last but not least is my husband...not only is he my partner and my love...but he is my friend. We may be two very different people with very different ideas at times, but we always find a way to meet in the middle. He has put up with me for many years...and he has sacrificed HIS wants for mine...many times. After almost 2 decades, we haven't run out of things to talk about. He has loved me for better or worse...fat or thin...happy or sad. He appreciates my strengths and forgives my weaknesses. He loves me when I am most unloveable...he allows me the space I need to grow...and he's given me the most precious possessions I have...our kids. I love you, P!

I've realized that while I've been looking for more...I should've of been appreciating the abundance of what I have. What I have, may not be great in numbers...but what I have...is precious...priceless. What I have...is QUALITY!

"i'M nOt a BoY!"

2008-02-04T12:30:00.000-06:00

It seems like girls hate me. I have had some really good girlfriends in my life, but they have been few and far between. I wasn't a sorority girl. I've never had the big group of girlfriends that hangs together on a regular basis. All the "girls" at the gym take classes together, while I prefer to lift weights and flip tires...you know..."boy stuff". They all congregate and talk to each other...but they just stare and whisper when I'm walk by. I'm not sure why it is this way...but it is. It hurts my feelings but I can't change the way people react to me. I had to accept the fact that I'm different than most girls a LONG time ago.

Most of my friends have been guys. Guys don't create drama...they don't call to ask what you're wearing...they don't need an entourage to go to the bathroom...they respect strength and calluses...and they don't hate you for trying to look your best. I'm a pretty straight forward kind of person, so it's easy for me to offend girls...most of my guy friends have always found me to be funny...a refreshing change of pace. They don't take everything so personally. We girls...we tend to personalize everything. It just feels easier...more natural for me to be friends with guys...even now. It used to be alot easier than it is now. Now it's hard because I'm a grown, married woman with children. If I am not careful, people could get the wrong idea about my friendship with a man. It stinks because we can't really go to lunch or movies. Consequently, I spend alot of my "free" time alone.

When I was younger and single, there was always the fear of someone developing a crush...but that was never much of a problem for me. Even now, when I've had good friends that were men...I've had people warn me to be careful. I always laugh it off, because I never even imagine any of these guys being attracted to me in the least. In the movie, "When Harry Met Sally", Harry says, "It's impossible for a man to be friends with a woman he finds attractive.". I think that's true...so I always feel "safe" with my guy friends. At the same time, I question the way they see me and it affects my self esteem. It bothers me.

The thing that bothers me is that I feel like my guy friends think of me as a boy...like I'm one of their poker buddies. I don't want them to be attracted to me, but it's hard on my ego. I want to be able to be friends, but I still want them to treat me like I'm a girl...I want to feel like they see me as...feminine. It's not that they are mean to me or treat me badly in any way. It's quite the opposite...it's just small things. For example, I don't want them to spit and burp in front of me...because boys don't do that in front of girls that they respect. If they care what a woman thinks, they control themselves and are on their best behavior. I feel like the men at the gym...the ones that I can "hold my own with"...and my personal trainers that I come to consider friends...don't see me as a girl...as a lady. I know alot of this is my fault...I always try to be such a bad a**...I'm always so tough. The thing is...I'm not really tough...seeming tough is my protection. It hides how vulnerable I really am...but no one else knows that so it adds to the whole "boy" thing. I wonder if I come off as masculine. I don't mean to. I feel like I'm very feminine. I wear cute, tight jeans...I get my nails done...I have flowers painted on my toes...I'm obsessed with shoes...and I almost always wear high heels and makeup. It's so frustrating, because I wonder what exactly it is that I do that makes me come off as one of the guys.

I actually have to clarify one thing...the thing is...that I want my guy friends to see me as a girl...and if they treated me as such, it would be great. HOWEVER...I would ONLY want them to do this if they could remain comfortable around me...familiar. I would never want them to behave in a super professional, proper way when it comes to me. I LOVE that they are so comfortable around me...I just wish they could see me from both sides of the spectrum. I wish they could see that even though I'm strong and I work out hard...I'm also fragile and sensitive some times. I wish they could see that even though I sweat like a boy when I'm working out...that when I come home, I take off those sweaty clothes and I shower and put on makeup and high heels. I wish that they could see that even though I try not to be a baby about things and I never demand to be waited on...I still want to have the door held for me...I still want to be protected and treated like a lady. Some days I want to scream "I'M NOT A BOY!". I don't say anything because I don't want them to do these things because I tell them to...or out of pity or duty...I want them to see past the tough exterior and I want them to see me for who I am and treat me accordingly. I guess it's impossible to have things both ways. I just wish they could see me for what I really am, because what I am...is a girl.

...RiSiNg fROm tHe AsHeS...

2008-01-31T16:41:00.000-06:00

I'm a passionate person. I don't always express my thoughts or show them outwardly in an obvious way...but I always feel them intensely. When I like something...whether it's food, a person, or an idea...whatever...I really like it...love it...think it is the best. When I don't like something...I really don't like it...I have no tolerance for it...and there is not much anyone can do to change my mind. Consequently, my emotions can swing pretty far in either direction depending on the day and circumstance. When I am sad or hurt...when I fail...when I am disappointed...it is so difficult for me to overcome. I always succeed in overcoming eventually. It's just that I feel like it's almost impossible to right my wrongs...to forgive...to start over. So, I struggle and get "stuck".

I think sometimes I get stuck waiting...waiting for someone to help me...to save me. I'm not the kinda girl that gets "saved". I've never been good at being a damsel in distress. I don't wait in the tower for my prince. I usually try to find a way to get myself out. Sometimes it makes me feel sad, like I'm not worthy of saving...so I've never really given anyone the chance to save me. I always assume that he doesn't, but if the prince ever shows up...I'm already gone. I wonder if it's because I'm not pretty enough...or maybe it's because I'm not likeable...or as good as all the other "princesses". Sometimes, I wish things were different. Sometimes I am glad.

I read a quote once that said, "You save yourself or you remain unsaved." and that's how I've always tried to live...like a phoenix. The phoenix was a mythical bird that lived for 500 years. There was only one phoenix at a time...all the phoenix had was itself. It was thought to be able to restore itself when it was hurt or wounded. I find it interesting that it was considered invincible...NOT because it couldn't get hurt...but because it could repair itself when it was hurt...even the phoenix could get wounded. After 500 years, it was said to build a nest that it would ignite in flames. The nest and the bird would burn so intensely that they would both be reduced to ashes. Out of the ashes, a new phoenix would be born. The phoenix is a symbol of rebirth and renewal, but not only was the phoenix thought to be reborn...it was thought to come back stronger than it was before.

I've had some things going on in my life in the last week that have felt a bit out of my control. Some days, I feel stuck and I get mad...mad because I wonder why I always have to deal with this kind of stuff...mad because my perception is that somehow I am different or less fortunate...mad because it's not fair. The fact is that even if I am unlucky...even if it isn't fair, I can't change it. That's how life is. We take the cards we are dealt and try to make the best hand possible. You win some and you lose some. Life is a journey...a test...a time of growth...a trial. We should all want to become better than we are, but it doesn't happen overnight...it's a process. Our trials can make us stronger, but it's not easy...or quick...or painless. It takes effort. We learn from our mistakes. I am no where near being able to compare myself to a phoenix, but I'm trying. I'm trying to take things one day at a time...and when I'm consumed by the "flames" of life...I will try to rise from the ashes...a little stronger each time...like a phoenix starting a new life.

...holding my breath...

2008-01-25T13:33:00.000-06:00

I do it all the time. I do it when I'm scared..when I'm surprised...when I'm in pain...when I'm worried...unsure. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it until I hear someone say, "Breathe!". I don't realize how uncomfortable I am until I draw in the first breath and the feeling of relief washes over me. A few days ago I experienced that relief.

My friend has been gone. He still is. I knew I would miss him when he left, but I underestimated how much. He was so many things to me...a coach...a friend...a running buddy...a sounding board...a student...a teacher...a confidante...and more. I laughed with him. I cried in front of him. I learned from him. I succeeded because of him. He made me happy many times and even made me sad a few times. He helped me realize my potential and changed me for the better.

I was sad when he left, but more than anything I was worried. I was worried that he wouldn't find what he was looking for...worried that he would never come back to train me...worried that he would forget me. In a sense, I've been holding my breath since September 14th. When my friend called me a couple of days ago, I felt relief...I took a breath. I don't think he'll ever be back, but I am learning to accept that. He's my friend and if he's happy, then who am I to tell him to do something different. I just have to keep breathing and be thankful for what I have...my memories...the things I've learned...no one can take those things away from me. I should be grateful and aware of every breath I take. Buddha once said, " "Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn alot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us be thankful."

It's time for me to stop holding my breath. It's time to breathe so I can live.

...bAd mOmmY...

2008-01-20T23:18:00.000-06:00

I wasn't a little girl that carried dolls around. In fact, I never remember having a specific doll that I especially liked or played with. I never get "baby hungry" when I hold someone else's newborn. I love to hold them and see their tiny features. I love to cuddle them...and smell their necks...and kiss their cheeks...and then give them back when they start to cry. I've sat in circles of women that talked about how after they gave birth, all they could think was..I want to be pregnant again...I want more babies. After I had my babies...I always thought...I'm glad that's over and I'm not doing that again any time soon. I just smile and quietly wonder. I've always wondered if I am...somehow...less of a woman...a worse mother because I don't feel like most other women .

Being a mom can be one continual guilt trip for me, if I'm not careful. I always worry...am I doing enough?...am I really cut out for this? I remember when my kids were so little...5, 2, and newborn...I was so overwhelmed some days. I couldn't wait for the day when they would get older...the day that I didn't have to change diapers...the day that I could go to the mall without a stroller...the day that I could carry a purse again...a real purse, rather than a diaper bag that doubled as my purse. The list goes on. I foolishly thought it would get easier, and before I knew it, the day came...my kids aren't babies anymore.

As my children get older, the day to day challenges haven't gotten easier...they have just changed. We don't have tantrums in the grocery checkout because they want candy anymore, but when I make them turn off video games to do homework or tell them to go to bed or to set the table...we have tantrums. I use to hate the glares from strangers when my kids would cry in stores, but I would gladly welcome those glares to never have to hear "I hate you. You're the meanest Mom in the world.". My kids don't cry when they are hungry anymore, but I have had to endure tears and complaining when I make them eat one bite of their vegetables. I wanted "a break" when they were little. I was always so tired. Sometimes, these days I wonder if they even need me and I miss the way it felt to hold them in my arms and rock them to sleep.

I wonder if I am a bad mommy because I didn't dream of babies when I was a girl. I wonder if I am a failure because I'm always late. I wonder if I am worthy of this job when I lose my temper. I am ashamed to admit that some days, I want to give up. I'm ashamed because good moms don't give up...they keep trying...no matter what...and I want more than anything to be a good mom. I want to teach my children well. I want to make lasting memories with them. I want them to be proud to introduce me to their friends. I want my children to know that I mean what I say. I want them to know that even if I'm late, I will ALWAYS be there. I want them to know that even though it's hard to hear hurtful words said in anger, that I will always forgive them...again and again...as many times as I need to. Mostly, I want my children to grow up never questioning the depth of my love for them...so even when I am tired and frustrated...defeated and floundering...I will never give up. I will never walk away. I will never stop trying to be a better mom...and I pray that when my children are grown they won't think I was a bad mommy.

...It's time to drop the anchor...

2008-01-16T22:49:00.000-06:00

I'm not a person with alot of collections in my house. I don't collect figurines or snow globes or anything like that...it's never been "my thing". The only thing I really collect is quotes. Whether they are poems...or movie lines...or quotes from famous people...whenever I come across a quote that is inspirational to me...I write it down and add it to my "list". I've even been known to pull out my cell phone in a movie to type in a quote or a line that I like...one that is worthy of my collection. Yeah, it's weird, but it's what I do.

In the movie "The Guardian", there was a line that I thought of as I sat down to write today. Kevin Costner's character, Ben Randall, is teaching the young men that are in the Coast Guard about how to be good "rescue swimmers" and this is one of the things he tells them: "There will come a time when you might have to decide who lives and dies out there. It's a terrible responsibility but it's one you will have to make as a rescue swimmer. The bigger reality is, its also something you are going to have to live with as a human being. There will come a time when you will have to say no. The most important person to keep alive is yourself."

I've been thinking about letting go...letting go of the things in my life that are drowning me...the things that will kill me in a sense if I continue to hold on to them. "The most important person to keep alive is yourself." I heard that line in my mind as I thought about some of the people and things that are like an anchor around me. Sometimes it's easy to let go...and sometimes it takes the feeling of struggling to tread water before I realize that I have a decision to make.

I don't let go or give up easily...especially when it comes to the people that I care about...but there's only so long that a person...even a strong person...can tread water before they drown. I can't control other people. I've learned that the hard way. The only thing I can control is myself. I have to make my own decisions. I have to know when to walk away...when it's time to save myself...because the fact is that these so called anchors in my life that are dragging me down are not chained to me...I am holding onto them...I have to let go...I have to drop the anchor or I will drown. It's hard to walk away before you're ready. It hurts to mourn someone that is still alive. Sometimes, we have to choose ourselves over others in order to live.

..."FERGALICIOUS!"...

2008-01-11T17:22:00.001-06:00

I write a lot of serious...sometimes sad stuff, but I'm not a sad person. I want to write about something that brightens my day and makes me giggle when it comes to mind. There's a proverb that says, "Laughter is the best medicine." Years ago, I wouldn't have believed that, but today I know that is true. It makes me sad when I realize that I have gone through an entire day without laughing. I used to laugh all the time. I don't know why or what was so funny, but my friend used to make me laugh almost everyday that I trained with him...sometimes it was a giggle...sometimes it was long, loud laughter. Consequently, when something funny happened to me, I loved to tell him about it, because he appreciated the humor and usually had an equally funny retort. There's one particular "funny" that is my favorite.

I remember one day, my oldest daughter and I were stopping by Target. I don't know what for, but she wasn't exactly thrilled. You see, she's almost 12, she hates to shop, and I am the most embarrassing Mom ever! She was complaining as we walked in and I was trying to bite my tongue and ignore it. We got what we needed and waited in the "10 items or less" line. You couldn't help but notice the cashier right away. He was kind of a goofy lookin guy with an outgoing personality and a quick wit. I started to watch him closely because I noticed that even if they resisted at first, every customer..old or young...cranky or cheerful...left his line smiling at the very least..most left laughing. As we approached our turn, I noticed a man behind me. He was hard not to notice. He was a big, muscular guy, mid 20s, Corona tshirt, camo shorts, and backwards baseball cap. He looked like a manly man. He was holding something under his arm. I noticed that it was almost as if he were hiding something, but turned around to pay for my purchase and take my turn at a laugh. I don't remember what the cashier joked with me about, but he did and I laughed...not a roll on the floor laugh, but a small giggle. As I turned to walk away with my daughter, I heard the cashier say in a really loud volume..."FERGALICIOUS! DUDE, AWESOME FERGIE!" Surprised...me and my daughter turned to see that what this guy was hiding was a Fergie CD!!! The guy was not finding this funny...in fact he looked VERY embarrassed...and that just egged this funny cashier on. My daughter and I continued towards the door and our car. As soon as we got outside, we simultaneously looked right at each other and broke into hysterical laughter. My daughter's response through laughter was, "COME ON! A guy buying Fergie?!?" I immediately texted my friend whose reply was something like, "OMG did you ask him if he wanted to borrow some panties?" Again more laughter. My reply, "Nah, I think he already has his own!" My friend and I texted back and forth and my daughter and I would burst into laughter any time we thought about what had just happened.

Now, if we want to laugh or we're feeling silly, all my daughter and I have to do is look over and yell "FERGALICIOUS!!!" and it brings immediate laughter. Laughter can fix so many things. Laughter can bring people together and create memories. That day, laughter helped me go from "the most embarrassing Mom in the world" to someone that wasn't so bad to be around. I dare to say it brought us closer. It changed the entire mood of our trip. So, Corona man...thanks!...Your embarrassing moment created laughter and fun and memories for me and my daughter!

I'm the BIGGEST LOSER!

2008-01-08T22:11:00.000-06:00

I sat on my bed and cried off and on for two hours. I had a good day today. I wasn't sad when I sat down on my bed to relax and watch TV, but I get so emotional every time. I can't disconnect myself from people that I don't even know. When other people see me, they automatically assume that I have nothing in common with the people that I cry for...that I couldn't possibly understand their pain. They have no idea that some days when I look in the mirror...I don't see me...strong...thin...healthy me... I see those people looking back at me.

Four years ago, I weighed 200 pounds. I decided that I was ready for a change. I don't know why the number 200 "woke me up". I don't know why 180 or 197 didn't. I just know that I opened my eyes and made a decision. I decided that I didn't want to be out of breath at the top of my stairs anymore. I decided that I didn't want to hate my reflection in the mirror. I decided that I couldn't remain a prisoner in a body that felt uncomfortable and foreign to me. It took me several months to figure out what worked for me and in the end it took me over a year to lose 70 pounds. I didn't go to a doctor. I didn't take pills or starve. I ate better and I ate less and I started working my body. I NEVER thought I could go from a size 18 to a size 2/4. I've never been strong. I've yo-yoed between being fairly thin and being slightly chubby off and on throughout my life, but even when I lost weight, I was never fit...never this small.

My body has changed, but sometimes I think that my mind has not. I struggle to see what others see. That is why I cried tonight while I watched "The Biggest Loser". I cry just thinking about it now. When I see those men and women on the television, I feel their pain and struggle. I KNOW how hard it is...everyday...even now. I know what it feels like to be ignored in stores. I know how it feels to see people's faces when they haven't seen you...in a while...since you gained weight...the disappointment and the shock that can't be masked with kind lies and fake smiles. I know how it feels to wake up hopeless.

My life is totally different today. Today when I walk in a store, sales people look me in the eyes. They speak to me. They help me. Today when I walk in the gym, I feel like I belong there. Today I run to the top of the stairs and back down again and hardly notice it. Today I enjoy shopping and trying on clothing. Today I notice men noticing me..and they no longer have a look of pity or disgust on their faces. Today I am no longer ashamed, but I am proud...proud of how far I've come...proud of the sacrifices that I have made and the lessons that I have learned.

I am not a fat girl anymore, but the fat girl that I once was still lives inside me. Sometimes she's barely noticeable...sometimes she overpowers me. She overpowers me with fear...she tells me that what I see in the mirror is just an illusion...that I am ugly and fat...that it will not last. I'm trying to learn to quiet her, but she is an important part of who I was...who I am. When I see a fat person, I do not judge. I do not make fun. I do not make assumptions. I hope. I hope that one day that person will "wake up" like I did and be reborn. The fat girl that I used to be has made me...kinder...stronger...more grateful. She motivates me to get up every day and work hard...rain or shine...cold or hot...sick or well. So while I will never totally abandon her, I need to ignore her when she lies to me and puts me down. I need to teach the "old me" to accept and love "the new me"...to not be embarrassed by the stares...to believe the compliments...and to accept my beauty.

...wHy cAn'T i bEliEvE?...

2008-01-06T01:20:00.001-06:00

Why can't I believe that I am worthy of being loved? Why can't I believe that I am beautiful?...worthwhile? Why can't I believe that dreams really do come true? Why can't I believe what I am told?...that I am loved...that I am capable and strong? Why can't I believe the ones I love?...friends...family...It seems that no matter how many times I am told, I NEVER believe. I doubt. I question. I rationalize and eventually...I reject...sometimes out loud, but mostly in silence with a nod and a fake smile. When I receive a compliment, I wonder if it is a cruel joke or simply given to me out of pity or even duty.

One day a couple of months back, I walked in my bathroom and looked at myself in the mirrors that surround the room. All I could see were flaws...wrinkles on my face...imperfections in my body...the list goes on. I decided to get ready for the day, go out dressed well, and try to carry myself with confidence. I was hoping that I could convince myself that I'm okay through my interaction with other people. So, I put on my cute, tight size 2 jeans, my pink, expensive 3/4 length sleeve jacket, my perfectly matching pink high heels, and I headed out for the day. All day...everyone stared...all day...I was worried...worried about what they were thinking. I created what I fear. I wanted people to see me...to think I looked better than everyone else...and they saw me...but I didn't feel better...I felt...different...strange...bad. I walked through Target at the end of the day before going home. I acted confident, but I felt scared. I caught a man staring. It embarrassed me. I pushed my basket faster in the opposite direction and I looked away. I had to go back to get something I forgot and there he was again...the same man. He had a kind face and he smiled at me. Before I could escape like I had before, he walked towards me...he wouldn't take his eyes off me. He said, "Has anyone told you that you look pretty today?" Shocked and at a loss for words, I spit out one word..."No." He said, "Well, you do. You look pretty." Dumbfounded again, I said one more word..."Thanks." and I walked away. I didn't feel better. I didn't feel good, because I didn't believe. My first thought was, "Do I look so pathetic...so desperate that a stranger felt that he HAD to pay me a compliment?" I know that was not the case, but I told myself that it was. I would not allow myself to believe what he said.

I don't ever remember a time in my life that I felt differently. I'm never...enough. I've always felt second rate. I've always felt "almost" good enough...but not quite. I've always felt like a consolation prize. I'm not sure why..I have a few ideas, but I guess I'll never really know. It has made me seem...hard...tough...and uncaring, but I'm really not. I am soft and fragile...scared and worried...all the time. I want to believe...I just don't know how.

...grandma's swing...

2007-12-16T23:12:00.001-06:00

Almost all of my relatives and immediate family were born in San Antonio, Texas. I am no exception. There is one difference though. While all of my relatives lived in San Antonio, my family moved to Arlington, and that's where I grew up. Every year, or even twice a year, my family would drive to San Antonio as our vacation. My mom would stay at her parent's house, and me and my sisters would stay with my Dad at my Grandpa and Grandma's house. We would visit my mom's family, but because we stayed with my dad's parents, most of my memories are there.

My Grandma's house was very old. My great grandfather built it himself. It was a unique house because of it's age. There was a bathtub that stood on feet, tall ceilings, and even a bathroom that had an old toilet with a chain up high that you had to pull to flush it. My grandparents were German. Sometimes my Grandma would speak to my Grandpa in German, especially if she didn't want us listening. She also gave prayers in German. Grandma raised Dachsunds. Her favorite one's name was Schatze, which is German for sweet heart.

My Grandma had lots of costume jewelry in lots of old, fancy jewelry boxes. My sisters and I would sneak them open and look at her jewelry. If she caught us, she'd say, "Uhhh, Uhhh!" in a deep growly voice, and we would close it up quickly. Oh we wanted to try it all on so bad, but we knew we better not. It was special to Grandma.

We had to be creative or it could get boring at Grandma's house. My grandparents had a detached garage and a big open, square drive way behind their house. Grandpa would go out to his shop and get down an old, red wagon and we would take turns pulling each other around the driveway. Our favorite thing about Grandma's was the swing that hung from the ceiling of her front porch. My sisters and I would sit on that swing and just go back and forth, back and forth for hours. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the warm, humid air and hear the way that the chain creaked every time we swung back and forth. My grand parents had that swing there the whole time they lived there. After Grandpa died, Grandma moved to a townhouse to be closer to my aunt and to be in a safer neighborhood. The swing stayed behind.

A few years later, my grandma moved here, closer to my parents, because her health had started to decline and she needed help on a daily basis. She was not ready to give up her independence so my parents got her an apartment within five minutes of their house. They helped her pay bills, took her to doctor's appointments, and took her dinner every night. They basically did anything she needed because she could no longer drive. One of the highlights of Grandma's week was Sunday dinner at my parents' house. She loved to see my three children. They also loved her dearly. Over the years, Grandma's health got worse, and a few years ago she passed away in a hospice home...right before Christmas. I made some precious memories in the last years of my grandmother's life. As I helped care for her and enjoyed her, I grew to love her in a different way. When Grandma died, my sisters and I got to split up her costume jewelry and jewelry boxes to keep as a special memory of her. It was the first time we got to really see all of her precious things that she had protected all those years. I keep it on my bedside table and it reminds me of her.

As I think about all the things I remember, her dogs, the old wagon, my grandma's jewelry, my mind always returns to that creaky, old swing. I cried on that swing, and I laughed on that swing. I talked to my sisters on that swing, and I sat alone and rocked back and forth...back and forth. Over the years, I grew up. I outgrew the old red wagon, but no matter how I changed during the years we visited my grandparents, young or old, I never outgrew grandma's swing.

...LiaR, LiaR paNts oN FiRe!...

2007-12-13T15:50:00.000-06:00

It's always kinda funny to me that when you ask a woman what qualities she is looking for in a man, she'll usually always have honesty in the top three. Honesty is important and I do believe that it is a worthy attribute to look for in a relationship for obvious reasons. It's interesting though...I always wonder how many "honest" guys never get a chance because they are not attractive...or rich...or funny...or successful...in addition to their honesty. People are ashamed to say, "I want a good looking guy." or "I want a great kisser." We think it seems shallow, but is it not true? There HAS to be some sort of attraction to get things started. We want honesty, but we are afraid to be completely honest. In a sense, we are all liars.

When I was in college, my best friend Kiem used to say "96% of all jokes are true". Me and Kiem had a...funny relationship...almost like the boy and girl that like each other...only the boy pulls the girl's hair and the girl pretends to be disgusted. We were never anything other than friends...inseparable friends. We had a funny quick witted relationship filled with lots of playful banter, so of course I had to argue and disagree with this philosophy the first time I heard it. A joke is a joke. Jokes aren't true...or are they?

How many times do you say something that gets a reaction that is unexpected, only to say "Oh, I was JUST kidding!"? As I think about this, I realize that this happens ALL the time. Sometimes we are afraid to be honest, so we jokingly say what we mean. Then, if there is any sign of upset or confrontation, we can always say we were "just kidding". I went through a whole day....conciously paying attention to what I said...when I was "just joking". Many times...I wasn't joking.

No one wants to be considered a liar. I know I don't. Maybe my friend WAS right...maybe we should "joke" less and just say what we mean.

...sHaTTereD gLAss aNd sUpeRglUe…

2007-12-05T12:59:00.001-06:00

The memory is so vivid…so clear…I remember what the classroom looked like…the other kids’ faces…especially his. Mostly, I remember the way I felt…the painful lump in my throat…the flush of my cheeks…the surprise…the way I held back the tears and masked the pain with a confident shrug. I remember hearing those 2 words, over and over and over again that entire day. I’ve heard those words in my mind at various times in my life for the last 25 years. I was 13 years old and in 7th grade. I was insecure and I never felt pretty, so when those words confronted me…in front of the entire class…they shattered what little self-esteem I had. 2 words…that’s all it took…”YOU’RE UGLY!”

His name was Scott Coppinger. He wasn’t good looking. He lived in a small run down house on a street near mine. He was skinny. He wasn’t popular or looked up to, but it didn’t matter. In fact, those facts made the situation worse, because if a skinny, ugly, nerdy guy thought that, I could only wonder what other people…people that “mattered” thought. I remember walking in the classroom and hearing someone teasing him. I laughed as I walked in, and then everything went in to slow motion as he turned and shouted those two words at me…loudly…in front of everyone. I remember the way I felt. I remember taking my chair, but I can’t remember the rest of that day. I do remember that I did not go home and tell my parents. I was too ashamed.

Childhood and adolescence is brutal. It’s almost like wild animals or a primitive culture…eat or be eaten…kill or be killed. Most everyone has had an embarrassing moment in school or been put down. It’s what people do with those words that help define them. Some people use the torments or unkind words to excel…to succeed or to become better than they were. Some people choose not to believe…to forget...to ignore. Some people cling to the hurt and feed it and nurture it until it has become a part of who they are. I haven’t been called “ugly” in a long time, but I still feel that way sometimes. Some people would be surprised to hear that…think I’m lying even.

It’s like going to a thrift store and seeing a beautiful crystal vase from a distance. You are drawn to it…can’t believe it’s not taken…that it’s in a thrift store. You turn it over to find that it’s Waterford crystal and it’s being sold for pocket change. How can that be? Don’t they know what this is worth? And then…you see it. You see that this vase has been broken and glued back together. It is no longer perfect. What was once an expensive, fine piece of crystal, has no real worth any more. Sometimes I feel like a shattered vase that has been carefully super glued back together. If you don’t pay attention or look closely enough, you won’t notice the cracks…the hurt…the disappointment…the pieces of my heart that have been shattered over time.

It seems like a depressing thing to say, but it’s true. Until I sat to write this, I always felt worthless, because I am broken…damaged…from all the times I was dropped…shattered. As I remembered that terrible day…the one that had a real impact on my life and the way I see myself…I realized that if I treated myself, the way I treat others, my life would be so much better. I would never in a million years think of my children as worthless just because they make mistakes and they are not “perfect”. I would never turn my back on a friend, because of bad choices they made in the past. If someone told my daughter, what I was told, I would tell her not to listen to hurtful lies. I would tell her about all the wonderful qualities she possesses. I wonder why I can’t…won’t do that for myself.

Today, I am saying goodbye to Scott Coppinger, once and for all. I have chosen to carry his mean words and the hurtful memories of that day around with me for 25 years. I don’t want to lug them around anymore. Yeah, I’m a mess…broken…no where near perfect, but I’m not alone. I haven’t cornered the market on pain. There’s no such thing as a perfect person…one that has never been hurt…or damaged in some way. We are ALL full of cracks hidden by superglue and we are all probably stronger because of it.

...hUrTs So gOOd...

2007-11-30T12:48:00.001-06:00

From the time my kids were old enough to crawl, I've taught them to be careful. It's for their safety; their protection. I gave them plastic utensils with rounded edges. I "kid-proofed" my house. I was there to catch them when they fell taking their first steps. I taught them not to touch a hot stove, and to be careful not to shut their fingers in the door. I taught them just like my mom taught me and her mom taught her. No matter how careful a parent is, accidents happen. Bones get broken. Eyes get poked. Knees get scraped. Hands get burned, and fingers get smashed. It's a part of life that all parents try to protect their kids from for as long as they possibly can, but in the end, all kids get hurt and feel pain.

By the time we're adults, it's an accepted fact of life. We know that we will get hurt and feel physical pain somehow...somewhere...sometime, but we are programmed from an early age to avoid pain...at all costs...just like I programmed my children when they were babies. We are taught that pain is bad. Pain is scary. When we feel pain, we do everything we can to numb it...bandaids...ice packs...medicine. We want the pain to go away...fast, and we are careful never to repeat the action that caused the pain in the first place.

My body is sore and tired today and my heart hurts. Today, I feel pain, but I guess that's not so unusual for me. I workout...hard..and everyday I feel pain because of this. Sometimes, it's my back. Sometimes, my legs...my butt...my arms. Sometimes, it's my heart; my soul. Sometimes it's hard to tell where it hurts. I just know I feel pain. It hasn't been until recently that I learned to appreciate pain...to like pain. No, I'm not some kinky masochistic freak. I'm someone that has learned to respect pain...to understand it...to work through it...to live in it...to use it for my own benefit rather than fighting against it.

Pain teaches me. It refines me. Sometimes when my muscles ache, and I scramble for the Advil and ice packs, I stop and take a step back. My body is sore...hurting...because today I used it. I worked hard to make myself the best I can be. When it hurt, I didn't stop...I pressed on and grew stronger. When it was hard...I rose to the challenge and built endurance; confidence. The pain, the hurt is an affirmation that I did the best I could. When my heart breaks and my soul is battered, it is because I have been hurt..somehow...by someone...maybe an unkind word or a disagreement...maybe loneliness or disappointment...maybe unrequited love or even betrayal. This pain is much harder for me to embrace. It is very tempting to do whatever I can to ignore this pain...to find a way...any way that I can...to keep from feeling this pain...to stuff it down...to build a wall and shut myself off from the possibility. I've learned that it is important not to push this pain down but to feel it...to acknowledge it...to learn from it, because this pain also teaches me...even makes me better...stronger too. I am learning that it is better to risk this pain than it is to be alone and sacrifice happiness...love...friendship. It may be harder for me to accept the pain of heartache than it is to accept physical pain, but surviving heartache helps me appreciate those that truly love me...that handle my heart and soul with care. It reminds me that the way I treat others really does matter.

Pain is a part of life. It comes whether we invite it or not...embrace it or reject it...work with it or against it. Everyone has experienced the strange phenomenon where pain actually feels good physically. An example being the fact that massaging a sore muscle can hurt so bad and feel so good at the same time. It only takes a moment, but if we jump up at the first touch, afraid to feel the pain, we cheat ourselves out of the pleasure that follows. I will continue to see pain as a positive force in my life; a catalyst for change. I will use it as a gage for progress. I will be patient and brave and wait until the misery subsides and allow the pain to "hurt so good"...again...and again...and again.

...like a hamster on a wheel...

2007-11-13T14:14:00.000-06:00

Making beds...washing dishes...doing laundry...taking kids to school...to swim...to soccer...these are just a few of the repetitive tasks that I do almost everyday. They never end. Even if I make beds and do laundry everyday...I'm never really finished, because more clothes get dirtied everyday and those beds get unmade again every night. Many days it is mind numbing. I feel like a hamster on a wheel...feverishly running as fast as I can...around and around and around...not sure where I'm going...never getting any further than I was before...just keeping up.

Sometimes I fantasize about how my life would have been different had I chosen to stay in college...if I had chosen an exciting career path...stayed single...possibly even traveled the world. I try to imagine how different things would be had I chosen this cosmopolitan lifestyle. I imagine a very clean, modern, expensive apartment...with a view...I don't know what the view would include or where it would be...but there would be a view. I envision shiny stainless steel appliances...a fridge with no calendars or hand drawn pictures. I imagine peace and quiet...time to read books uninterrupted...and restful nights of sleep...no nightmares or monsters in closets. I imagine myself in expensive high heels and designer "power suits". I imagine gourmet dinners and lots of parties...glamorous parties full of important people.

Before I know it, my fantasies are interrupted by the cries or demands or giggles of my three children...and I reenter MY world...the one where traveling includes kids that whine and can't carry their own carry on baggage, a beach right here in the US, and days spent doing nothing but lying in the sun reading novels, building sand castles, and breaking up arguments...not hiking the Inca trail or sailing the Mediterranean on a yacht...the one with a comfortable home rather than a modern apartment...the one with a view of the elementary school from my back porch rather than a cityscape...the one that includes jeans and the occasional high heel bought on sale at Macy's rather than Manolo Blahniks and Armani suits...the one that includes McDonald's Happy Meals and Subway sandwiches, not gourmet meals...the one that includes parties, but not glamorous parties...these parties include jump houses, balloons, birthday cakes and squealing children that have had way too much sugar...no fancy hors d'oeuvres or important people. I wonder what I've missed all these years that I've been living as a suburban housewife...and then I realize that I'm looking at my life all wrong.

I have missed out on the glamour and excitement. I have missed out on exotic travel and gourmet meals because of the choices I made...the choice to leave college...to get a minimum wage job and help support my husband while he finished his degrees and accomplished his goals...the choice to have children...to quit my job and stay at home...the choice to spend my days in parks on picnics...in museums...at water parks...and on field trips, not in a board room...or an expensive restaurant for a lunch date...or the first class cabin of an airplane on my way to a business trip. I try to turn my thinking in another direction...I wonder what would I have missed had I chosen the other life I sometimes dream about???

I would have missed out on the miracle of hearing the heartbeat of the life growing inside me for the first time...the surprise of the first kick inside my belly...and the overwhelming feeling of love that washed over me the first time I held my newborn baby in my arms and counted their ten perfect fingers and toes. I would have missed the sweet smell of a baby's neck after a bath...the ability to stop a cry with one kiss...and the feeling of two small hands wrapping around my neck to hug me tight. I would've missed out on the excitement of the Easter Bunny...the thrill of the Tooth Fairy...and the magic of Santa and his elves. I would have missed out the on pictures drawn with crayons that say "I love you, Mom! XOXO" that hang on my white fridge...the one I keep hoping will grow up to be stainless steel someday. I would have missed out on the comfort of my leather couch...the one that I chose, because it was distressed and I knew it wouldn't show the scratches and spills that come with having kids. I would have missed some of the most precious moments of my life...ones worth far more than a pair of Manolos or an apartment with a view.

So, while I still daydream about what could have been...and while I still hate the mundane, repetitive tasks I perform everyday...I am grateful for the choices I have made. What I have is priceless...more valuable than gold. So, I'll continue to get up everyday and wash and clean and do the same tasks that I did the day before, but now maybe I'll stop and be grateful rather than resentful. I'll continue to make the same beds and I'll calm familiar cries. I'll cook out of obligation...not desire...and I'll drive a minivan (the one thing I adamantly said I would NEVER do) to swim and soccer practice...even when I don't want to. I'll be a hamster on a wheel, because the laughter and the hugs and the kisses that come with the job, make it all worthwhile.