Declutter...

How's it going with the New Year's resolutions?  I didn't really make any.  I did, however, jump on the bandwagon of choosing one word to define and direct my goals for this year. 

(Before I share it, though, I want to say an early 'Happy Birthday' to my kid...  Happy birthday, Evan! I love you and miss you! Can't wait to have you back home.  Praying that God has some exciting things just around the corner for you and that this year is going to be YOUR year!)

The word I've chosen for 2013 is DECLUTTER.  And that's a doozy of a word.  For me, anyway, it encompasses a-whole-heckuva-lot. 

My hopes to declutter in 2013 (if all goes according to plan) will affect every area of my life, not just my home (although that will be a big part of it).  This isn't just a "I'm finally gonna get organized" kind of thing, although I certainly hope that will happen.  It's more of a "I'm gonna achieve peace and contentment if it kills me" kind of thing.

Here are the specifics, in a long, rambly nutshell.

DECLUTTER my home 
This will actually be the easiest (although not easy), so I'll start here.  My housemates and I do not need 49 t-shirts that are suitable only for sleeping or cleaning house, or 17 pairs of jeans that no longer fit, so that's where I'll start, with decluttering our closets and drawers. 

Ever since getting "sick" (I was diagnosed in 2008), my deep cleaning skills (aw, who are we kidding?  Deep?  Snort!  My cleaning skills, period) have really suffered.  I just don't get down on my hands and knees for anything anymore...  Unless someone drops M&Ms at my feet.  And even then...  It's gotta be a pretty good handful.  So, I'm envisioning something akin to entering a wardrobe and suddenly finding myself in Narnia.  Some of our closets haven't been investigated in a long time and God only knows what I'll find, is what I'm trying to convey.  I don't know if I should expect the process to be tedious, exciting, terrifying, or a combination of all three.

I'll have to remind myself not to feel wasteful when it's time to say goodbye to a "perfectly good" piece of clothing, or fearful that I may get rid of something I'll need in the future.  God will see to my future needs.  But He will not clean out my closets (believe me, I've asked).  Apparently, only I can do that.

I hope to blissfully and thankfully let go of the things that no longer serve us, instead of fearfully clinging to stuff, "just in case."  When I begin to worry that I'm letting go of too much- that I'm really, really going to need these things, I will remind myself of the wise words in Matthew 6:25-34. 

When I daydream (and I will), that I may someday wriggle my buttocks back into the size 8 jeans I've been hanging onto for 22 years, I will declutter my thinking by reminding myself that if I succeed in becoming a size 8 again (heck, even a 10) that accomplishment will deserve a brand new pair of jeans, not some tired, old, out-of-style pair (...My way-too-small Wonder Woman t shirt is not going anywhere, however. Let's just make that clear right now.  You will not even pry it from my cold, dead fingers, because I will be buried in it... even if it has to be slit up the back to make it fit).

Anyhoo...  The unnecessary, material CRAP in my life- It's all going.  And I hope, by the end of the year, I'll have a whole slew of posts showing my progress. 

DECLUTTER my head
This is a biggie, because the success of this one will determine the outcome of every other goal I've set.  I want to rid my head of the centuries-old (okay, maybe not that old, but "half-a-century-old" doesn't roll off the tongue), self-destructive patterns of thinking that bring me down every day. 

While writing this post, I had the pleasure of reading a post called Drops of Awesome, which was shared on Facebook by a friend. If you didn't see it there, I hope you'll read it here.  Honestly...  If you're prone to beating yourself up the way I do, reading this will be one of those epiphany-inducing, life-changing things.  For me, it was pure serendipity... or not. The timing of it was more like a "God thing," as it so closely reflected the new direction my own thoughts have been taking. 

I want to be kinder to myself; cut myself the same amount of slack I'd give you...  Stop looking at myself with a destructive, self-sabotaging throw-the-baby-out-with-the-bath-water mentality that says I'm either perfect, or I absolutely suck.  Cuz guess what?  I'm never, ever perfect.

I hope to focus more on the little, but good things I do- the "drops of awesome"- instead of constantly beating myself up for all the ways I fail each day.

DECLUTTER my time
This one doesn't need much chit-chat, does it?  I mean... just that fact that I'm sitting here blogging right now with laundry to be done, or bills to pay tells you I could find more productive ways to spend my time. On the other hand? What would the two of you do without me?  

I definitely want to carve out more meaningful time with my kids, though.  Not just homeschool time.  Not time spent together watching tv.  But memory-making, fun, REAL time. 

DECLUTTER my body
I want to be healthy.  I want more energy.  I also want to be smaller, but mostly, it's the health thing.  I want those things so badly, yet I never achieve them. 

I think we've established that I'm a picky, horribly unhealthy eater, right?  Seriously, I'm like a 4 year old.  I'd say at least half the foods offered on healthy meal plans are ones I think of as gross (Fish?  No.  I don't do fish.  Veggies?  Sure.  I love loaded baked potatoes, corn on the cob- covered in butter and salt, or a nice healthy salad... topped with bacon, cheddar cheese and blue cheese dressing.  Legumes and beans?  I'll eat beans in chili, but that's about it.  Hummus?  I don't even know what that is.  Never had it.  Don't want it...  See?  I'm ridiculous).  So, when I do try to "eat healthy?" I get hungry and feel deprived... which becomes overwhelming, depressing and, ultimately, unrealistic. 

I know I'll never be healthy if I don't tackle the pickiness problem.  I need to learn to work around it,  or with it- gradually, instead of expecting to change it over night.  This goes back to that idea of throwing the baby out with the bath water.  My approach to eating healthfully (like my approach to everything else) has always been too all or nothing.  I throw out all the junk in the house, eat one "last meal" of good food (like taco pizza followed by chocolate sheet cake or peach cobbler...  You have to really treat yourself the night before you meet your doom, y'know?), then go to bed full, but already feeling sad and deprived over the life I'm leaving behind, and plan to change my entire life beginning at 7:00 the next morning.

It's all about how quickly I can lose a certain number of pounds, instead of being about a sustainable life change.  It boils down to too many radical changes too soon;  too many yucky new foods that I don't know how to prepare.  I'm defeated and eating ice cream by 3:30 pm.  Then, I wait for the next Monday to begin again, because in my all-or-nothing head, diets always start on a Monday, so ultimately every Sunday night becomes a "last meal" night before the "fresh start" on Monday morning.  Is it any wonder I'm fat?

This year, I'm going to focus on feeding myself the way I'd feed a toddler, since I'm so good at behaving like one.  I'm trying to introduce new, healthy foods a little at a time.  Making gradual, positive changes seems so much more doable to me than taking away all the bad foods I love so much.  Right now, for example, I can't imagine a morning that begins without Diet Pepsi. I cannot envision drinking nothing but boring, plain water. Ick. So, for now, I will cling to my beloved DP, but also add a glass or two of water to my day.   I will eat my taco pizza, but with a salad or handful of baby carrots. 

This morning, I had a whole grain English muffin for breakfast.  It had butter and jelly on it, but I ate something whole grain for breakfast.  Yay, me!  Usually, I don't eat breakfast at all, and when I do?  It's chocolate.  Progress, people!

It will be about ADDING, not TAKING AWAY.  Drops of Awesome.  Hopefully, by the end of the year, I will have a bucket full of awesome- those bad foods I adore and crave will have been replaced one by one as I learn to make and like healthier choices, and the process will not have seemed so overwhelming and difficult. 

DECLUTTER my spirit
I want to rid myself of any activity, thought or thing that detracts from my relationship with God and is unhealthy for my soul.  If my spirit suffers, my relationships with those I love will suffer, and of course, I suffer as well.  I want more time in His Word and spent in prayer.  Easier said than done, but that's the goal.  Also?  Maybe I need to think more carefully about what I spend my time watching and reading.  What area(s) of my life am I still withholding from God?  Maybe I need to look more carefully at the people in my life, which leads me to...

DECLUTTER my peeps
I've already touched on this topic a little in my last couple posts.  I use up way too much time and energy dealing with people who do not add anything positive to my life.  Those days are done (I hope).  I do not wish to become more selfish, but maybe a little more self-focused (in a good way!); just in remembering to consider my own well-being and emotional/spiritual health, along with others' when choosing who and what deserves my time. 

DECLUTTER my marriage/other relationships
This does not mean I'm getting a divorce or leaving my family.  Nor am I devising ways (sinister or otherwise) to get rid of family members (heehee).  I'm not even plotting ways to change their behavior.  To me, this means choosing to lay aside my own behaviors that add nothing positive to my relationships.  

Do you have anyone in your life with whom you argue?  Do those arguments ever seem to be um...  let's say "redundant," or unproductive?  Do you ever feel as if you've been having the same, dang argument with someone- over and over and over- for years, with no resolution?  Help me out here, guys.  Surely, I can't be the only one, can I?

What's that oft-used saying about the definition of insanity?  Isn't it "doing the same thing over and over, but expecting different results?"  I've thought of that expression quite a bit this last year, since I've pretty much been living it.  Sometimes, it's like I'm in that movie Groundhog Day.  That can start making you feel a little nuts, after a while, guys.  It's not healthy.

When we know certain words, tones, attitudes will only lead to an argument (or all-out, knock-down-drag-out fight) that has no positive solution, what ultimate purpose does it serve?  Arguing for the sake of "fixing" something can be healthy, but, there comes a point...   A point when you know you're not arguing so you can solve or help.  You're arguing so you can hurt.  You're arguing just because that's what you do with this person.  And that can't really even be called an "argument" anymore.  It's bickering.  Petty, obnoxious bickering. 

Oftentimes in relationships, it seems we see a storm brewing and steer toward it; we say our well-rehearsed, destructive lines, with feet even more firmly planted in our already deeply held positions, then we walk away no closer to a solution; only more angry, bitter, and frustrated than before. 

Lather, rinse, repeat.
 
I want to be done with that.  I want to feel like I'm moving forward and making progress, not spinning my wheels.  My life is (at least) half over.  Why waste one more day with anger or petty behaviors?  Those things clog and clutter my relationship with God and affect people I love.  Why give any person that kind of power over my life?  I can't make someone else stop hurting me.  But I can respond to hurt differently.  I can't make other people get along with me.  But I can stop actively participating in conversations that have no productive outcome or benefit.

This will be one of the harder goals to put into practice.  It will mean biting my tongue... A LOT...  And I'm not a tongue-biting kind of girl.  I don't know if you've noticed that.  It will mean refusing to take the bait.  It will mean saying I'm wrong when I know I'm right.  It will mean letting the other guy "win."  So what?  If I can live a calmer, happier, more peaceful life, am I not winning, too?

I think the theme of DECLUTTERING will be a frequent one here in this coming year, as I delve into all the areas of my life that need a little trimming.  I hope I'll have heaps of progress to share. 

What about you?  Did you choose a word, theme, or goal for the year?  Any words of wisdom to share as we all venture into this new year?  If so, I'd love to hear it! 

You know, you all have gotten very quiet and rarely comment.  What gives?  What's the fun in doing all this talking if no one talks back?  Maybe your word for this year should be COMMENT!

Question:

I've been kicking around the idea for a while, of keeping a separate blog/journal on health and weight stuff, to talk about topics relating to that and to track my progress as I try to lose weight and reclaim my health, but I keep procrastinating- wondering if it would be of interest to anyone but me, or just a waste of time.  Then, a friend suggested I do it, so I'm just wondering... 

If I started a second blog to talk about and track my progress on health and weight related issues, would you read it?

It's GO time... (exceedingly loooonnng post)

I've been planning to give an update on my stupid health issues for over a month now, but when I stumbled upon this old post, written a little over a year ago, I didn't want to put off writing this any longer.  And it's probably going to be a long one (even longer than my usual), so don't say I didn't warn you.  In fact, I almost split it into two (or three) posts.  If you have no interest in my health, and only come here to hear me say something funny, or extremely stupid and/or personally embarrassing, do yourself a favor and skip this one.

I was humiliated and ashamed of myself as I read last year's post about all the changes I was pledging to make the day before my 43rd birthday.  Needless to say, those changes never happened.  Any weight that I lost was minimal, and quickly regained as soon as I returned to my old, familiar eating habits.  In fact, of the 40 pounds I lost 3-4 years ago, I have now gained back... 40 pounds.  It was gradual; I'd gain 10 lbs here or there, then lose 5, then gain 15, but now it's all back, just the same.   I am now the fattest I've ever been.  Again.  And it shows. 

My Chaz Bono chin/neck appears to be on the verge of giving birth.  I've

decided to name my chin/neck, since she has become such a prominent member of the family.  You see her before you see the rest of me, so it felt rude (and impossible) to keep ignoring her.  She is now Laverne.  I bought Laverne a lovely scarf, but she doesn't like it.  It's itchy.  Naming my chin/neck caused my gigantic arse to become jealous, so it had to have a name, too.  Since my backside is so large, I felt that each side needed a name of her own.  So, now...  The left cheek is Mary Kate, and the right is Ashley (and are you thinking, "Oh, gross," right now about this pic?  It's okay if you are.  You can say it.  Gag if you want to.  That's not me.  Did you think it was me?  Seriously?  Not quite.  Not yet).

Anyway, I still have the same health problems I blogged about in that old post, along with one that I've been keeping a secret from almost everyone.  Only a few friends (and of course, my immediate family) (oh, and the people my husband has told, "so they can pray for me," even though I asked him not to say anything) know about it. 

The "big secret" will be of no interest to my friends in Bloggerville.  It will only matter to those who know me- those who've been kept in the dark about it- or who've been basically lied to every time I told you I'm fine.  If you fall into that group, I'm sorry.  I'm nowhere close to fine. 

Supposedly, I have Fibromyalgia.  I haven't even decided yet if I believe Fibro exists (which is not to say that I think people are lying about their pain.  I don't.  I believe it has become a very popular catch-all diagnosis in recent years when a doctor doesn't know what else is wrong with a patient, to the point that some people are being misdiagnosed with Fibro when they actually have something else). 

Actually, the onset of my "illness" and all the continuing symptoms line up most closely with Lyme disease, from what I've determined through my own research since all this started.  Here's what happened... 

(If you want to shorten this post, and couldn't care less about Fibromyalgia or how I got "sick," skip all the blue type and jump to the end)

Several years ago, I started running a fever and feeling achy, like the flu was coming on...  Only it never did.  I had a solid week to ten days of high fevers and feeling really tired and out of it (but no other flu or cold symptoms, like coughing or congestion, nausea, etc.).  And when I say tired, I mean laying down to take a little nap, then sleeping for the next 18 hours.  This happened several times throughout that week (Thank God Darrell was home at that time to help with the kids, at least).  It was weird.  But, again, we thought I was coming down with something, so it wasn't that weird.  The aches kept getting worse, but finally the fever stopped.  I expected to get better, but the aches and fatigue continued.

After a couple weeks of that, I went to the doctor.  He asked me if I'd had a tick bite and/or a rash when I first got sick, and I said 'No.'  This ruled out Lyme, as far as he was concerned.  But...  Wouldn't it be possible to get a tick bite and a rash in a place you wouldn't necessarily see?  Especially if you're, um, large-ish, like myself?  Now, several years after the fact, I wish the Dr. would've just tested me for Lyme anyway.  He thought it sounded more like Leukemia and tested me for that, as well as for Lupus.  Both were 'negative,' so he said Fibro was the best fit. 

I have never heard or read of another case of Fibromyalgia that initially presented itself with fever.  Plus, I continue to have bouts of unexplained fever.  In fact, I've been running a fever every day for the last three weeks.  Whenever this happens, I hate it.  I always feel like I'm just about to get sick, but never do. 

During the time of waiting to see what was wrong with me, I also started to notice that, as the fatigue became worse and I was feeling more tired, I was actually sleeping less.  It's as if those 10-18 hour "naps" in the beginning were God's way of prepping me to never sleep again.

I don't know what the heck it is, but I do know that I am in pain, to some extent, almost all the time.  Often intense pain.  It does go through 'cycles' (for lack of a better term) where it gets better or worse, but some part of me is always hurting.  The cycles of pain do not seem to follow the cycles of fever, either.  There is no absolute pattern to any of it. 

Right now, as I write this, the bones and muscles all around my collarbones and in my pelvic/hip areas feel like I've been beat to crap in a bad car accident.  I've had times when it's hard to walk, hard to lift my own baby, hard to get myself in and out of the tub or the car.  Oftentimes, weakness comes with the pain, and you can see me visibly shake as I try to lift a glass.  It's ridiculous.  To watch me walk around during these times, you would think I was 40 years older than I am. 

Because of that, I have become a hermit of sorts, even avoiding phone conversations (especially with my mom, who probably thinks I'm a horrible daughter for not keeping in touch as I should.  Sorry, Mom).  The kids always say I have a "pain voice" and they can hear it when I'm hurting.  It took them a while to learn the difference between my pain voice and my angry voice- lol, but now they can hear me say "hi" and know immediately that I'm in pain.  And it's just hard to make small talk or focus on a conversation when you're in pain.  When I'm hurting the worst, I will avoid you like the plague.  I won't go to church, or the store, or any other place.  I'm like an old cat, who will slink off to a closet to die alone (speaking of which...  I just realized I haven't seen Mama Kitty since yesterday...  Hmmm).

The long and short of it is that Fibro has added about twenty years to the way I feel and the way I function.  My "Quality of Life" sucks.  I'm lost in a constant brain fog (pain distracts you from everything else).  I'm slow.  I'm unproductive.  I'm...  pitiful. 
Aside from the pain, the most frustrating aspect of this is the extreme fatigue.  I am tired all the time (but can't sleep, which is also apparently a normal part of Fibro) and always feel worn out, as if I've just been through a rigorous work-out. 

And guess what?  When people see a big woman who says she's tired and is having trouble getting out of a chair, you know what they think?  They think "LAZY!"  "LARD*SS!"  They think, "Maybe you should put down the cake, honey."  That's what they think.  You can see it in a person's face, sometimes...  you know, when they're judging you and making assumptions about who you are based on your weight.  I hate that part of it, too.

I'm no longer on any pharmaceuticals for it.  I tried several (for years) and they didn't work.  I think this lends more evidence to the idea that I have something other than Fibro, but what do I know?  I'm not the one with the degree on my wall.  I'm just the one in pain.  And currently, I'm the one in pain with no health insurance, so there won't be any further testing or prescriptions in my near future.

In addition to the Fibromyalgia-or-whatever-it-is, I still have uncontrolled Diabetes (the fat chick kind, Type 2- not the "born with it" kind), high blood pressure, ridiculously high cholesterol, HORRIBLE insomnia (and have I mentioned I can't sleep?) a bad thyroid, and a hormone imbalance that drives me up the wall ( PCOS- Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome).  And, as long as I'm listing ailments, I've had a new, weird thing going on...  In the past 8 months or so, my armpits have started hurting, too.  What the heck is that?  I have no idea whether or not that's part of Fibro, or Lyme, or any other thing, but it seems like a strange area to be hurting.  It's even painful to shave or put on deodorant.  As if the rest wasn't enough, huh?  Well, I've always had to be a little unusual.  I guess my pits are no different.  I'm a mystery, wrapped in a pancake. 

Wow.  This is a lot of rambling.  Look at all these words!  Are you even still here?  Am I flipping talking to myself again?

It's a little late to make a long story short, but basically...  It's time to take the bull by the you-know-whats and do something.  I don't know what.  But something.  If I don't change my ways, I'm going to die.  I don't mean that to sound all melodramatic, like I'm dying today, or anything...  I just mean I can't reasonably expect to be around for my children's children if I'm going to continue choosing to ignore my health (or at least the parts of my health that I can control, anyway).

I can't do anything about the constant pain or fatigue.  I'm stuck, there.  And the point of mentioning it in this post, is not so that I can whine and complain.  This is not a "poor me" thing.  This is about me being fed up with all the things in life that are beyond my control, and wanting more than ever to get control over the few things I'm able.  I know my weight is to blame for some of this. And some of this is to blame for my weight.  And really, the only thing I have a real shot at controlling is my weight.  And by controlling my weight, maybe I can have a little control over the diabetes, cholesterol, blood pressure, and just maaaaybe, my life expectancy (not that I truly think I can control how long I'll live, but you know what I mean...  I'd like to add a few years if possible).  I'm hoping I can find the strength to knock down this one huge domino in my life, and then that domino will... well, you know how dominoes work.

As far as getting the weight issue taken care of...  I just don't know how to do it.  I know that I'm not going on another diet.  I'm more interested in learning how to eat better, healthier, and more organically, than I am in following some restrictive plan that will leave me feeling deprived and only yield short-term results.

I just want to live a healthier life and feel better.   That sounds like it should be easy.  Why isn't it easy?  Am I really asking for too much?

If you read Looking For George, I'm looking into a lot of the same things Elaine is interested in (bio-identical hormones, etc.) trying to live as naturally and healthfully (??? Healthfully?  Is that a word?) as possible without a reliance on pharmaceuticals.  I'm trying to find more natural ways to manage pain and insomnia effectively (which I haven't yet) and trying to figure out a healthier diet for myself and my family.  That's where I'm struggling the most.  I've told you guys before that I don't know the first thing about eating (or cooking) healthy food. 

I'm very confused right now about what exactly qualifies as healthy and what doesn't.  A lot of "lite" or sugar-free products, like yogurt, for example, contain Aspartame and/or lots of other chemicals.  So is it really better to give up the calories, but eat the chemicals?  OR should I be looking for more natural, unprocessed products that may have a higher calorie count, but contain less "crap?"

I may or may not blog about my little Journey to Health, and my progress (if there is any).  I haven't decided yet.  If I'm successful, will it even matter to anyone but me?  Does anyone have the slightest interest in hearing that one of my fat rolls shrunk by 1/8 of an inch?  And if I'm not successful (again), do I really want my failure recorded here, staring back at me for all eternity, in black and white?  If I do blog about it, maybe it will help keep me accountable?  Or maybe it will just help me lose the 2 readers I still have...  I don't know. 

I certainly will not blog my starting weight, but my goal is to lose 75 pounds, and give Laverne, Mary Kate, and Ashley their walking papers.   I want to be running around outside with Sammy this Summer.  I want to get some type of activity into every day.  This will be very hard to stick with on my "bad pain days," but I hope to do something, even if it's only walking around the block.

I may blog more about my plan, once I know what my plan is going to be.  Right now, I'm confused.  And frustrated.  And feeling like the odds are against me before I even start.  But...  I still have a tiny bit of hope, too.  I feel a change is coming.  And it's just got to be a good one, right?

The Cow Says...

That's going to become the title of my blog, I think. And I shall sign all my posts "Heifer."

I'm fat, is what I'm indicating there.

You're shocked, I know.

Of course, I'm always fat, so this is not new news to any of us, and I'm really no fatter now than any other day, but some days the magnitude of the fatness seems... well... bigger. It hits me harder.

I've been feeling crappier about myself than I have in a long time. A long, long time. Maybe it's because "Forty-Three" is approaching soon and my goal in my late thirties was to have all my weight off by 40. Big, big FAIL. Then last year, I was supposed to lose all the weight for my son's wedding. Remember that? Yeah. Ummm... Huge FAIL.

Or maybe it's just because I look like crap. Yeah, that could be it. I may be onto something with that one.

I was at the mall today, buying school clothes for the kids and saw an adorable shirt I would have liked to get for myself. Loved, loved, LOVED it. The problem? I was in one of those ridiculous teenager-y kinds of stores, where there are huge pictures of really hot, half-naked young people, locked in passionate poses, hanging all over the place, and where everything is sized in miniature, you know? *Large* actually means maybe a size 8, or something. XL is like a size 8.3. Usually, I wouldn't even see anything in those kinds of stores that would catch my eye. My taste really isn't "Teen Ho-bag." So, I either keep myself busy helping the kid find something, or I'm trying to zone out and remain in my happy place, while I wait patiently for us to leave the store and its booming, crappy music behind (oh, man... that sounded so OLD). But this shirt was sooo cute- not at all the popular "I Aspire to Become a Prostitute When I Grow Up" style. So I pointed out the shirt to the girl behind the register (she was a fat girl, too) and asked if there was any chance in Hades that the shirt would fit me. She said probably not. Of course. She said she'd given up trying anything on in that store, because nothing fits.

I don't want to shop at flippin' fat chick stores. I don't like "fat chick" clothes. They're not cute. I want cute.

I'm not cute.

My skin looks like I'm 49. My hair is crap. And... is it falling out? Why, yes. I believe it is. Thank you for asking. My body is crap. I am crap. Is this a mid-life crisis I'm having here? Do I need to buy a sports car? Hope not. I can't afford one. I'm old and poor AND fat. Jeez. I can't catch a break.

Please don't mistake my remarks as a manipulative ploy to get you all to say, "Oh, no- you look great." That's not what I want. I don't want anything. I just want to sit here and blow up balloons for my pity party until I'm lightheaded and half sick, and complain and be a big baby. And of course, I mean "big" in the literal sense. Tomorrow I will probably feel better... Right?

Yeah... tomorrow will be better.

Um, not to treat you like a dufus, or anything, but that last part was dripping with sarcasm, in case you missed it.

What do you think?

I've been eating a lot of omelets lately. I mean a lot. I ate one for breakfast this morning, and I'm craving one already again for lunch. We went out for breakfast two weeks ago, and instead of ordering french toast, or something like that, I ordered an omelet. I paid someone to make me eggs. That is mind-boggling to me. I guess I should mention that I don't like eggs. That is probably a significant detail. I'll eat them if someone has fixed them, but they are never my first choice and I never, ever fix them for myself. Until now.

I've also been drinking tons of frozen Dr. Peppers (they're like an Icee) from the convenience store up the street. I never, ever drink Dr. Pepper, except for when I was pregnant with Livie and I craved the frozen ones like crazy. Just like I have been lately. I'm a loyal Diet Pepsi girl, and don't even like the taste of Dr. Pepper. Except, now I do.

This morning, when I was making my omelet, Evan said, "Man, mom, what is your deal with omelets all of a sudden?"

Then Alex goes, "Ya pregnant?"

No. I'm absolutely NOT pregnant. But it made me start thinking... Is it possible to have pregnancy cravings when you're adopting? I mean, can your mind play games with you like that? If so, is there a name for it?

I just weighed myself and I've gained five pounds... Okay, fine. I lied. How did you know? It's really six seven eight lbs. Geez, what are you, a detective or something? Five is close enough to eight. Yeah, like you never round down on your weight. Gosh. Five Eight pounds of eggs and pure sugar from the Dr. Peppers.

So, I appeal to the collective smarts of my wise and experienced blog buddies... What gives? Has my mind convinced my body I'm pregnant? Is that possible? Maybe it's just the stress of hoping for our referral, BUT then wouldn't I be craving my favorite comfort foods (mac n cheese, chocolate, etc.)? Why would I be craving things I don't like... especially 8 flippin' pounds worth? What say you?

Weekend in Review... Lots of Photos

We had so much fun with the kids last weekend. We went up to Kansas City early Saturday morning for an arts, crafts, and music festival at Missouri Town. The arts and crafts for sale were bogus for the most part (which was disappointing only to me), but we still had fun. The demonstrations and people dressed in period costumes were interesting. I think I told you I really go for all this historical crap- not enough to walk around dressed like this, but still...
It was also a weekend full of animals. This guy kept ramming the fence right in front of me with his humongous head because I was focused on taking pictures instead of giving him carrots. Scared the frap out of me.
Was so glad Alex wasn't there to see this big guy- his only thought would have been to shoot it.This was the biggest ox I have ever seen in my life. His name was Moses. He liked being scratched behind the ears.
And more animals.After we left Missouri Town, we did a little shopping and went to stay the night at Darrell's mom's. On Sunday, we took the kids to the KC zoo, and again had a great time. More monkeys... They look like they're in a cage, don't they? Right where they belong!If it wasn't for the kids tugging my arm to move along and see something else, I could literally spend the whole day there watching the gorilla. I adore him! Isn't he gorgeous? These are not very good photos, but I think he's such a beautiful guy. I wish I could have zoomed in closer and gotten really good, clear pics of him. Truthfully, I wish I could just get down there with him- face to face, but he'd probably rip me in half. I got some halfway decent pics of other things, though. Loving my new camera, even though I don't have any photographic talent.
My diet took a serious hit. Serious. We ate at my all-time favorite place on earth: Dixon's Chili. There was just no way I could be faithful to my diet and pass up Dixon's. It's not just good, greasy food to me- it reminds me of my dad, and everything good about him. It was his favorite spot, too. Eating there feels like I'm honoring his memory, even though that sounds goofy, and it makes me miss him. I'm sure he's looking down on me with pride as I pass on the Dixon's torch to his grand kids!! Then on Sunday, we stopped for great KC BBQ. You cannot visit Kansas City without eating BBQ. And don't even start debating with me about Memphis vs KC. I don't want to hear it. Memphis BBQ is good, but KC BBQ is better. And you poor Texans don't know how to BBQ, I'm sorry. You seem to think you do, but sadly, you do not. My goal with this post is not to hurt feelings or start any fights, though- so we'll leave it there and move on.

I'm telling myself that all the walking we did for two days straight will counteract the bad food choices. I'm hoping, anyway. I have to be bikini-ready for my Florida vacation in two weeks. ...Yes, of course I'm joking. I'm like that. I wouldn't make innocent bystanders look at this jiggly mess in a bikini. I'm not heartless, for Pete's sake.

The whole time we were gone, I was a little worried because we left Alex and Mike at home for the first time. I can't imagine one good reason why boys at 16 and 18 would not want to go to the zoo with Mom and Dad, but whatever...

I know what I was doing when my parents went out of town and left me alone at home as a teenager. It wasn't good. I was nervous about what was going to happen during our absence, as I remembered some of the (ree-hee-heally fun) things from my youth (If my mom is reading... That one was a joke, too- of course. I never did anything bad while you guys were out of town. I cleaned the house, read books, and volunteered at a soup kitchen. I was always in bed by 9 p.m. Yep).

Anyway, the house was still standing when we got home and the boys appeared to be "normal-" No vomit on their clothing or the floors, no glassy eyes looking back at us or beer breath rolling out of their mouths. No skanky girls hiding in closets. That's always a good thing. My bedsheets did not appear to have been... um... oh, we'll say- slept in. If you know what I mean. I really don't want anyone... um... sleeping in my bed besides me. Not that I really think my boys would do any of these things. They're good guys. I'm proud of them. BUT... Teenage boys, even really good ones, do things they have been ever-so-kindly instructed not to do; stupid things. Especially when they feel more like men than boys. AND... Mamas worry.

We were so tired when we got home late Sunday night. Our butts were dragging the ground and it was really hard to get going Monday morning. It's always fun to cram a lot of activities into a weekend, but you definitely pay for it Monday. I was still kind of in a fog all day yesterday, too- so I guess our whirlwind weekend really kicked my butt.

Darrell and I went up to our PD yesterday to get our fingerprints done for the FBI background checks, but they couldn't get good prints. They tried on me several times, wasted about 4 printing cards, then told us we'd be better off going to a different town with better equipment so that the prints won't be rejected. That's the joy of living in a really small town! We'll try again on Friday. Alex has to come with us, too- since he's 18. He will also have to come with us to KC when it's time to get re-printed. I sent in my request for our I600a extension (really important piece of paper from our gov't allowing us to adopt), so we should get a new fingerprint appointment for that pretty soon. Why can't you get your prints done just once and use those prints for all the different background checks? It's such a hassle. But all will be worth it!

Now, we need to start getting ready for the SW to come on Nov. 1st, which means it's time to let my OCD tendencies take over! YEAH! I leave in 12 days for Florida and will return only 4 days before the homestudy visit, so whatever I'm going to get done has to happen before I go. Obviously, my family will destroy all my hard work while I'm gone, and I will use the four days to frantically redo everything.

I'm still here

My family hasn't murdered me yet, although I've done plenty of whining and by now, deserve to be taken out back and horse whipped.

I've lost two pounds... Shouldn't I have lost, like, 12 pounds by now? How long have I been on this stupid thing? Seems like a long, %&#$!!* time. I can already tell that my ultra-picky eating habits are going to be my undoing. I don't like any of my food choices and keep eating eggs, chicken and salad, salad, chicken and eggs. Yuck. In a couple weeks, I can start adding some carbs back in, so at least I'll be able to have some fruit or something. I need to start gathering recipes and learn to cook the way healthy people do, instead of cooking the way fat people do, so that I have more options. I basically need to relearn everything about the way I cook and eat.

The worst time of day is in the evening. I start craving something chocolate so bad I can hardly stand it. But I'm still trying. I haven't given up yet.

Thank you for the supportive comments on the last post. I've been rereading them to stay motivated. I appreciate it, guys!

And, Christina- if you're reading... Since you have your comments off right now (which I totally understand), I can't tell you on your blog how awesome I think it is that you're trying to get the information out there for people to make an informed choice. But, I think you deserve some props, so I'll give them here. That goes for you too, Elaine! I said I wouldn't venture any further into the political stuff, but I appreciate what you're both saying and doing. People need to become informed and open their eyes before they cast a vote. This is not a decision that should be made for us by the media. This is not a popularity contest, or a celebrity fan club- it's the future of our country. Thank you both for speaking up.

Day One Questions

Oh, Dear Lord. I'm not going to make it. I did not have any chocolate for breakfast. I haven't had any since yesterday afternoon. There is not a single Milano cookie or M&M in this wretched house. What kind of idiot doesn't keep a little somethin,' somethin' stashed away for an emergency? And what the %#%! kind of lame-*$$ diet doesn't allow chocolate for breakfast?

It's madness, I tell ya. My diet plan says I can drink vegetable juice at breakfast and eat a salmon frittata. What the... ??? If I'm not going to eat a vegetable, I sure as *&$%# won't drink one. Vegetables should not be consumed before 12:00 p.m. It's another well-known and documented rule. I'm certain of it. And what the flip is a salmon frittata? If I'm not mistaken, salmon is a fish, correct? Am I suddenly stuck in Bible times? Who eats fish for breakfast? I should warn you I'm feeling a tiny bit grouchy. Sure, it's undetectable to you- but it's there.

Is chocolate withdrawal a real thing? Let's say it is. I have the shakes. I'm sweating. I think I may be hallucinating- I'm fairly certain an old Buzz Lightyear doll just said something to me, but when I asked him to repeat himself, he wouldn't, so I can't be one hundred percent certain on that one. I think my hair may be falling out. Is that normal?

This is a disaster. I'm going to cave before lunch. I'll be having a Hershey's Syrup I.V. drip, please. Make it a double.

D Day

Diet Day. I'm starting Monday. Why Monday? Why not start making positive life changes today? Well... I'm not quite finished with the stupid diet book that explains what I can and cannot eat, but I will be by Monday. When I finish it, I'll have to make a trip to the store to buy all the yucky, barely edible stuff I'm allowed to eat- odd, foreign-sounding things like "Lite Cheese," and "Leafy Greens." Do they sell such things at a regular grocery store, or do I have to go to some specialty place? I do not believe I've seen "Leafy Greens" on the ice cream isle. I may have to venture beyond- possibly step into unknown territories, like that "Produce" area, although I'm not sure what that is. It's a place I've only heard about, and frankly- I'm a little scare of it.

Also, Evan and I had already planned an afternoon out together on Sunday, after church. We're going out to lunch- just the two of us- at our favorite place and then seeing a movie. I cannot possibly be expected to sit at my favorite restaurant, grazing on a piece of lettuce, while watching my son eat my favorite things, without crawling across the table and grabbing fistfuls off his plate... Can I? Of course not.

Besides... All diets start on a Monday. It's a rule. Go look it up if you don't believe me.

I can hardly wait to start (lie). I'm really looking forward to eating healthier (bigger lie) and feeling better (that one's true). This diet seems to have a buttload of fish in it. I do not eat fish. No seafood of any kind, unless it's crab rangoon... Does that count? I don't think I should eat something that drinks the same water it just peed in, or had sex in. Of course, I eat cows and I'm sure they pee in the same pond they swim in. Then again, so do little kids, but that's neither here nor there. This topic has really taken a turn.

Anyhoooo... I'm going to be replacing all that fish with chicken, so guess what I'll be eating pretty much every day of my life from now until I die, or can't stand it anymore?

The first two weeks are going to be the strictest/hardest. I will not be a happy girlie. I'm going to whine and feel sorry for myself for the entire 14 days. Maybe even 18 days. Or 25. My dear family will grow to hate me, as will many of you, I'm sure.

I also bought the book Elaine recently suggested, "Potatoes Not Prozac" (Thank you, Elaine). Got it used for one penny (plus S&H) on Amazon. I'm really eager to start that when it comes. I definitely think I have a slight sugar/carb addiction. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. And I've been checking out a website my SIL suggested all about women's health issues (Thank you, Jackie). I'm also considering checking out WW (as several of you suggested. Thank you, all!) if the S. Beach thing doesn't work out so well. So this fat little leaf is preparing to turn over. But she won't be happy about it. No, not at all.

I would like to call upon my praying readers to start lifting me up, please. I'm going to need all the prayers I can get. So will my family. They will probably want to kill me by Day 3.





Farewell, dear friends. At least for now. Parting is such... a huge, depressing pain in my gargantuous butt. I'll be back for you someday. You won't recognize me at first- I'll be the (almost) hot, (kinda) skinny chick, sobbing with joy and lovin' you like a five dollar... oh, nevermind. I promise you, my beloved, I will return.

Bliss

You know that saying- "Find your bliss?" ...Well, I did. I found mine. And, as I should have known all along, my bliss was hiding in a small carton that bears the names of my two BFFs and trusted psychiatrists, Dr. Ben and Dr. Jerry. My bliss is Pumpkin Cheesecake ice cream. Who knew? Thank you, Doctors. I may be living on three minutes of sleep a night, but you've made my waking hours joyful again (Speaking of my lack of sleep... Thank you to all who commented and emailed with ideas for me! Much appreciated! I'm definitely going to try your suggestions and I'll let you know how it goes).

I've always been of the opinion that if a dessert or snack isn't made of chocolate, there's no sense in wasting the calories. I do loves me some pumpkin pie around the holidays, but I don't sit around and crave pumpkin like I do chocolate, so I was a little surprised at how much I LOVED this stuff. It is so, so, so good. I don't even know what made me grab it at the store the other day, but- Oh. My. Goodness. I'm glad I did.

I'm sorry, M&Ms, you'll have to try harder if you want to keep your hooks in me. Mac-n-cheese, you now have a rival for top comfort food. And, Chocolate Mint Milano cookies? ...Nevermind, we're still okay. You won't be leaving me anytime soon. I'm sorry I scared you, sweetie.

Hey... What was that noise? Oh. I think it was the sound of those two Honeybaked Hams that are my arse trying to bust out of the seams of my jeans. As you may have guessed from the better-than-sex ice cream description, that whole diet plan of mine kinda tanked.

Once my son's wedding was over, and I was so disappointed in myself for not losing the 35 pounds I had hoped to lose (because I kept cheating and procrastinating until I only had like 3 weeks to get serious about losing it, then was disgusted with myself for not being able to do it in that amount of time), I slowly reverted back to my old habits (and by slowly I mean it took one or two days).

I really need to do something. The weight I did manage to lose is creeping back on fast. I am so sick of myself. I'm sick of the "I'll go ahead and eat this, then I'll start my diet tomorrow" game I've been playing with myself since I got pregnant with my first kid. That was 19 years ago. Nineteen flippin' years of looking in the mirror and feeling humiliated and disappointed by what I see. Nineteen years of trying to avoid having my picture taken because that fat chick staring back at me makes me feel so ashamed. Nineteen years of holding onto clothes two sizes too small because I'm gonna lose this weight "soon." And I'm tired of using food as the answer for everything... If I'm stressed, I snack. If I'm upset, I comfort myself by stuffing my face. If I'm happy or celebrating, let's get the ice cream out! If Darrell and I get a rare chance to go out on a date, it's dinner and a movie with popcorn- extra butter, please. I'm sick to death of it. But on the other hand...

I hate being "On a Diet." I hate eating different meals than the rest of my family- cooking one thing (a yummy thing) for them and something different for myself. I hate plain, boring, grilled chicken all the frickin' time. I don't like fish, most veggies, or other diet-friendly foods, so I'm stuck with a pretty repetitive food plan when I try to eat right. It gets old fast. I can't stick to that forever. It's time to accept the fact that I am never going to give up chocolate... or bread, or pasta, or Chinese food... completely and forever. Just ain't gonna happen. I have to find a reasonable balance between what I want to eat and what I know I should eat. It's too bad those things seem to be mutually exclusive. But, as I said, I have to do something. Even my doctor said so... and that's bad. So I'm taking her suggestion and I'm going to give the South Beach Diet a try. Yay. I believe that means no pasta, or bread, no (sob) chocolate, or anything enjoyable for the rest of my life- isn't that correct? Did I not just say that ain't gonna happen? I bought the book today and, oh boy, I can't wait to get started. Hear all that excitement in my voice?

Trying to get the rest of the fam on board for a healthier lifestyle, though, will be like trying to stop wild horses. Darrell is a big Pepsi and chips kind of guy, and the Meat and Potato King. He isn't going to change that anytime soon. And as long as I'm buying and cooking that crap for him, it's hard to keep the kids out of it.

You know somethin'? Sometimes when I try to peer beneath all this fat, I almost think I could be halfway good-lookin' if only I wasn't buried under all this lard. I wasn't too darn bad when I was younger. Not exactly a hottie, but not bad. If only I would have known it and appreciated it at the time. Maybe I can lose enough on this new diet to be not-quite-a-hottie-but-almost, again. Ya think? My eyes aren't hideous. At least I have two of them and they both look the same direction at the same time... for the most part. My smile is so-so. It would probably be better if it wasn't surrounded on every side by such a ginormous expanse of face, but it's not horrible. I have all my own teeth, which is really saying something, considering my geographical location. My hair is passably decent on the rare days I make an effort. Can a house frau in her forties be almost hot? Is there such a thing as a "Luke Warmie?" Wish me luck. I'm sure I'll keep you all posted on how the new diet goes, since I know you have nothing better to do than wonder about the size of my backside.

HOLY MONKEY... The scale says whaaat?

Geeyyyaaawwwwsh. I stepped on the scale this morning; something I've been dreading and putting off for weeks. I was not happy with the number staring back at me. I still haven't started that diet I was talking about a while back, and my little indulgences just keep getting worse. You know those Fisher Price toys where you turn the dial thingy in the middle to an animal, then you pull the handle down on the side to hear the noise that animal makes? I was seriously expecting to hear, "The cow says... MooooOOOOO" when my feet touched the scale. I could hear that little toy guy's voice in my head as I stepped on it.

This past week has been so stressful, and I am definitely a "stress eater." The whole miserable, depressing Vietnam mess, sicknesses, 3 college visits for Alex, everybody's overlapping schedules, Dr.'s appointments, homeschool barely getting done all week, kids' basketball out the wazoo, and the laundry is hopelessly BACKED UP again. Both of our dryers are broken at the SAME TIME. One turns but doesn't heat, and the other heats but doesn't turn. What are the odds? No, seriously... What ARE the odds?

Yes, we have two dryers. One washer, but two dryers. That may sound like a luxury to some. I understand... BUT- Two words for you: 1) Six and 2) kids. My laundry room does not currently smell luxurious. You may recall from the power outage before Christmas, I am not a huge fan of the dirty laundry smell. We have roughly 25 loads, give or take, each and every week. Not too big a deal. When it gets backed up, that's 25 loads sitting around, taking up space, all at the same time. School clothes, church clothes, playing outside in the dirt clothes, I-just-put-on-another-clean-t-shirt-and-got-ketchup-all-over-it-even-though-I-wasn't-even-eating-ketchup clothes, towels, sheets, and sports stuff. Oh, Dear Lord- the sports stuff...

Show of hands: How many of you know a teenage boys' gym bag, clothes, and shoes smell a bazillion times worse than a normal person's? OK, good. So we're all on the same page, then. How are they manufacturing that smell? Where does it come from? It's unholy. The only way a normal person can smell as bad as an athletic teenage boy is to:

• Number One- Die and decompose for several days,
• Number Two- Allow the family cat to urinate on you repeatedly, postmortem.

I'm sorry, that's kind of yucky. And possibly uncalled for. I hope you weren't eating. And I mean no disrespect to cats, the deceased, or my boys. I love my boys dearly. They do take showers. Really, they do. It's just a universal part of being a teenager, but in this house it's multiplied by 3 of them, and a week of disgustingly overdue laundry.

Anyway, what was I originally talking about? Oh, the scale. My weight. My gigantic, fat face. The other day, as I was putting another cookie into my gigantic fat face, I had the thought that as soon as the stress dies down a little, I really am going to get serious about losing weight. My son's wedding is in FIVE MONTHS. I gotta do something. As soon as things get back to normal, as soon as I'm not such a stressed-out mess... Then I realized something. I've been waiting for that day for 18 years! I chose to marry a man with 3 children. We had Alex nine months and 2 weeks after our wedding. Mike came along 19 months after that. Then Evan, then Tuck, then Livie. We started Bri's adoption process when Liv was 4 months old and spent the next 23 months not knowing when our daughter would join our family (and you guys who have or are adopting know what I mean. Adoption and Stress always go together, am I right?).

It was a real "light-bulb" moment. I left NORMAL behind a looonnnng time ago. The day when the stress stops is not coming. And I don't mean that in a bad way- honestly. I love my big family and wouldn't change the choices I've made. I'm just saying that it's time to face facts and stop making excuses to eat and stay fat one more day. There will always be a reason to wait one more day. There will always be stress. I'm sick of it. It's time to handle it like a big girl.

So, this is it. Tomorrow, Chelle turns over a new leaf. Again.

UPDATE: The above post was typed late last night. It is now Mon. morning and so far, so good. I kept my word, and the new leaf is turning. This morning I did not eat Oreos, M&M's or any other digusting treat for breakfast, and I did not drink a little coffee with my cream. I had a diet muffin (which was yucky- we won't be doing that again), a BANANA (did you guys know about this stuff called, "fruit?" Am I the only one who never heard of it before? It isn't made of chocolate. Apparently this thing I ate this morning grows on a tree and is not made of chemicals. Go figure...), and fat-free creamer and Splenda in my coffee. Somewhere in this house, we have a treadmill. You would think something of that size would be fairly hard to misplace. I'll dig under the clothes piles and see if it turns up. Life Change 08: Operation Chelle Reduction is off and running!