I did it

I hired a trainer. I have been struggling with the same 10 lbs for the past 2, almost 3 months. I always get here. I start to seesaw between 10 lbs and then I gain it back. For the first time in my life, I don't want to lose this battle AGAIN. I know I have a lot of underlying emotional issues that have prodded me along. I can't stand that I've let this beat me for the last 16 years because that's when my real weight issues started. I'm done. I've made up my mind.

I had my first session last Thursday. I have not been able to move anything without wincing in some sort of pain. I hate it, but it's a start. I'm going to win this one, once and for all because being the fat girl for the next 15 years is not what I had in mind.

Pulsating

That's what my muscle fibers are doing in my legs right now after my speed walk-jog for 3 miles.
I'm not exactly sure if this is good. I imagine soreness in the morning will dictate the answer.

The Neda Effect

I watched a documentary last night that moved me beyond words. It was based on the death of a young Iranian woman, Neda Sultan. During the open elections in Iran, she, along with many others, opposed the primary candidate Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. During a protest following the scandalous re-election of Ahmadinejad, she took to the streets in peaceful protest. She had no idea what she would find. What she found was a bullet to her heart that ended her life in the streets of Tehran and turned her own life as the personal testimony of freedom for millions of Iranians.

I watched her family talk about her life and persona. She was like any other woman I know today. Interested in fashion. Passionate about life and books. Only the freedoms I enjoy myself and often take for granted, she could never fully enjoy simply because of geography.

I am guilty of abusing my freedoms every second of every day. People value my opinion simply because I am human and intelligent. I can walk the streets baring my arms and legs without so much as a second look, though some might scoff given their chubby appearance. I can wear as little or as much makeup as I want. I can pick up any book I want and read it in public whether it's the Bible, Wuthering Heights, or Where's Waldo without fear of persecution. For this, I am sorry I do these things and never appreciate them. Neda wanted those things more than anything. She wanted the freedom to choose whether it be to wear bright red lipstick or voting for a leader she truly believed in. For her sake, I am ashamed I have abused my everyday choices. Because they are my choices each and everyday. They make me who I am and comprise my whole self worth.

For the family of this dear woman, who is now gone, I hope Neda's dream of freedom of choice for all people, not just men, is soon realized. May the hope and light her life brought to those around her be carried on by the Iranian people as they strive to bring this dream to life.

You smell

and not good I might add. This what I was thinking as I sat down to eat my lunch 2, yes 2, tables away from an elderly man at the California Pizza Kitchen. It was a cross between pee and moldy, funky dust. I hope I don't smell like that when I get old.

You can imagine I lost most of my appetite since the smell kept wafting across the room. Good God, oh how I wish there had been another place to sit. ANYWHERE, but no. This is just the kinda luck I have.

Just a note: It is not only impossible to eat your lunch while holding your breath, it is entirely annoying. Somebody give that man more than a sponge bath, preferably with some strong lye soap and a bristly brush. People are trying to eat!

SHUT UP!

The boss called and gave me a review. I'm getting a raise AND (yes, there's an AND!) a bonus. I could have passed out yesterday, literally. It's nice to know you're appreciated when the boss says good job or thanks for all your hard work. It's even better when they say it with money. It makes the ass busting tireless job worth the effort for another year:)

Damn. This summer just got way better!

For the record

I've never exactly been a girl's kinda girl when it comes to communication. I bottle things up. I don't want to talk about it. I would rather glaze over it and sort it out later. Most girls I know wanna talk about it and make it better, etc. I prefer straight forward conversation to mindless chatter. I can take good natured ribbing and dish it right back. When you tell me that's the kinda girl you are too, I guess I thought you meant it. Which is why yesterday I was blindsided by your sudden attitude and overall crankiness about being your parent's bitch (running their errands while you are unemployed).

For the record, get over it. It was your joke I reiterated to you. YOUR JOKE, NOT MINE. Don't call yourself that over and over again. Don't laugh at it 100 times when I say it back to you and get all crazy on 101st time. First of all, I don't care. Secondly, the whole situation is retarded. Take some Midol and call me when you move on.

Vacation photos

My older brother laughing at my bridesmaid dress mishap. The damn zipper kept sticking and I had to shimmy into it from the bottom up or risk ripping the dress. This after I had eaten a big dinner and the dress was 2 sizes too big. My sister in law and other brother were attempting to shove me in it and zip it up off camera. I shouldn't have had that slice of pie with dinner.


The newest addition to the family scarfing Mickey D's without shame. Enjoy it now kid.


Me and my dad after our birthday dinner. He turned 67 and I turned 29. He's obviously not so happy about his.


The four most important people in my life: my 3 brothers and dad

empty my heart

I returned from vacation Tuesday night. Aside from sleeping a ridiculous amount of time (15 hours in 1 day alone!), I shut off the Blackberry, did not check email, or voicemail. I would be lying if I said I wasn't happy to be back in my own home, with my things and my very own space. It's strange though. I live alone with my dog and my schedule. I'm basically content with that 95% of the time. When I visit the family, there's this instant group of people to always spend time with. Genuine people who know and love me. I don't need to second guess their motives. They need no backstory to understand the craziness I am and all to often fully embody. The few days back to my singular life have made me sad for the closeness and bonds only family can bring. I have no family here. When I lived in Houston, I built my own family. I had a support system I could turn to. In fact, I still rely on them a great bit from here.

California is different though. My 2 year anniversary is coming up and I still feel somedays like I just got here. I know my way around. I have my spots to hang, shop, eat, etc. That's why when that familiar number dialed me this afternoon, I picked up. He said hello several times and I sat there paralyzed with so many emotions. I was angry I gave in and picked up. I was lonely and wanted to hear a familiar voice. I was relieved he still wanted to call me because there's still an insecure girl here who thinks no one will ever value who she really is. I couldn't bring myself to speak. There was dead air for about 3 seconds. I hung up and then shut off my phone.

I recently started reading the follow up book to Eat, Pray, Love by Liz Gilbert. If you've never read it, I HIGHLY recommend it. Her newest book Committed is about making peace with entering marriage, again, and resolving her own battle with commitment in general. (Being a commitment phobe of sorts, I definitely relate) In her attempt to warn her boyfriend of just what he's in for, she compiles a list of her absolute worst attributes. Liz felt he should know in case he decided being with her forever was not so feasible after all. Felipe, her boyfriend, tells her a story about when he first started his semi-precious stone business. The dealers would sell these packages of discounted stones. Each package had a few brilliant stones and other less valuable ones with imperfections. He used to marvel at the few perfect stones and purchase the packages with little thought to the other stones. He soon learned, each package always had amazing stones but the value in the purchase was summed up by weather he could salvage any of the imperfected ones. If the imperfected ones could make him no profit, then the purchase, no matter how amazing the other stones, would ultimately be of no worth. And so it was with her. He stated he had long ago accepted the imperfect stones that made her package along with the brilliant ones.

And so it is with Frank. I have tortured myself over how great he could be. Oh the potential he has to be a great this or that. But the truth is no matter how beautiful those precious gems are, they will never outweigh the imperfected stones that accompany his entire package. I cannot change his desire to not communicate or to live in mediocrity. I cannot settle for being simply a mindless wife who bears children and hangs on my husband's every word. While I hope to someday be a wife and maybe even a mother, our ideas of what those roles entail is so different. It would have made the perfect recipe for disaster had we actually followed thru with a marriage.

So, while there are no tears, there is a place in my heart that still aches tonight. I'm not sorry that I hung up on him. I'm not sorry I'm unwilling to accept the package he offered to me. I know there will be a better offer tomorrow, or next month, or whenever. Eventually, this part of my heart will no longer ache and that brings me comfort as I rebandage my wounds.