Unplugged

I am going to give fair warning: the next few posts will be Cruise-centric.  I would apologize for that, but in the end, this is my blog and the topics are my prerogative.  I appreciate your visits...I really do.  So, I will try to keep the extended versions offline and on paper only.

It has been a long time since I have been detached from some form of technology.  I work for The Company, after all.  I carry two Android devices, have Facebook and Twitter accounts, and text like a fiend.  I, like most people, enjoy the instant gratification that comes with connecting to others in an instant.   Recently, my BFF Rachel have decided to connect offline in an effort to bring that more personal touch to our communication.

This past week, Hubs and I made the decision to be as unplugged as possible.  Since Z stayed behind with Nana and Pap, we did need to have at least one voice device for emergencies.   So, I changed one of the Android phones to a really basic flip phone, its purpose only for calls and minimal text messaging.

I will tell you that this initially became the plan once we realized the cost of connecting when on the ship.  For the bargain price of $100, you can purchase 250 minutes of Wi-Fi time.

Yeah.  No.

Add in the cost of maintaining a global data plan (even with my discount) and it just didn't make fiscal sense.

More importantly, this trip's purpose was to reconnect, recharge, and rejuvenate.  We spend so much time moving in opposite directions that it was so wonderful to be moving in sync.  Hubs and I really had an opportunity to hang out together and just be us.

I do have to tell you that I also took this as an opportunity to really examine the hold all my connections have on me.  Every time Hubs asked me a question to which I didn't have the answer, I realized that my first instinct was to Google it on my Android browser.  Nearly every meal, I had an overwhelming desire to text either Rachel or Tom to figure out what in the world I was choosing for my dinner (more on the food in a later post).

And yet, I am still in no real hurry to reconnect completely.  Those blog posts might take some time, since Z is filling me in on his wonderful week.  I did want to make sure that my wonderfully supportive friends knew we were back safely (a priority only achieved by instant communication), but I still have tons of unread emails.

I know that I have to dive back in full force soon.  There are messages to answer and connections to be maintained.  Questions will arise that need research and conversations will occur online that I will just itch to join.

But I come back to it with a new perspective.  Unplugging is good.  Reconnecting, even better.  Technology has its place and purpose, but there is also a time to log off.

And that time is now.



   

Giving Up

This past week, I gave it all up.

I threw in the towel and decided I have had enough.

All this food restriction, exercising, hunger, and changing of my food relationship have just left me a different person.

You see - the cruise is now in just under three days, and two weeks ago, I had absolutely nothing to wear (literally).  I scoured online sites looking for clothes that I could take, realizing that they are few and far between because Spring clothes just aren't out yet.

After finding a couple of gems (clearance from last year's Spring/Summer collection), I still needed more to take with me.  So, I made the decision to unearth a few totes that have taken up residence in my closet over the years.

Every time I have tried to lose weight in the past, I hold on to my larger sizes.  I am not sure if it's this idea that I am going to fail or just prudence on my part because every other time I have failed.

But this time, as I was digging through the items and finding Spring/Summer clothes that now fit again (yeah me!), I realized something.

I am NEVER going to be that person again.  I have worked too hard to even allow the idea that I might fail to enter the picture.

And so, with a very light heart, I bagged up the clothes that are now too large and packed them off to my local Goodwill dropoff.  They have a mission in which I believe and work diligently to employ those who might otherwise struggle to find a job.  It is almost impossible to find good condition plus sized clothes at Goodwill, mainly because the cost of them means they get worn until they are nearly falling apart and unable to be donated.   So, the clothes are serving a great purpose and will hopefully soon find new homes.

And with that, I have given up.  I have given up the idea of failure.  I have given up thinking food is going to make anything better.

And I have given up on giving up on myself.  

I'm So Vain

When I got my first pair of glasses at age nine, I thought the world would come to an end.  I had put it off as long as I could, choosing to move closer and closer to the front of the room in an effort to prevent the end of life as I knew it.  Glasses were so not attractive, as a couple of my classmates had already learned.  Since I already held the "chubby girl" distinction, I didn't need to add "four eyes" to that (although, I really still don't understand that taunt).

However, that year, my highly observant teacher sent home the dreaded "I think Robin needs glasses" note.  My mother promptly carted me off to the eye doctor, where I was fitted for my first pair of glasses.  Due to the traumatic nature of the experience, I have blocked out what that first pair even looked like.  Rest assured, since it was the mid-80's, I highly doubt they were anywhere near as cute as the ones above.

I detested my glasses.  Even once cuter styles emerged, it was a long time before I began to appreciate the tools that afforded me the gift of sight.   The one pair that was the exception was a gold pair of square frames that once belonged to my mother.  They fit perfectly with my tie-dyed, bell-bottomed sense of style (yeah, I was that girl).  I wore those until they could no longer stand up under constant adjustments and lens replacements.

Once those glasses were retired, I began to ask for contacts.  It wasn't until after I turned 16 that my request was given serious consideration.   I was granted reprieve from my glasses, only to learn that the first contacts I had required more care than I expected.  I can count more times than I care where I stuck them in after a night of enzyme cleaning without scrubbing the eye-frying cleaner off.   I did move into the land of disposable contacts later on, which eliminated that step.

While I was unemployed, contacts were a luxury we could ill afford, so they were briefly retired.  Once we moved and had vision insurance again, I decided to go back to them.  Alas, my work environment is a dry one, and I again let them fall by the wayside.  I also stopped really paying much attention to how I looked, so glasses were fine.

Since I have taken the time to focus on myself and my health, my "vanity" has transferred to other parts of my life.  I made a promise to myself that I would no longer purchase warm up suits to live in (which had been the norm).  Regardless of how I feel on any given day, I make an effort with my clothes, hair, and makeup.  I get my hair cut ever 8-10 weeks, and I took the time to find makeup that works for me.

Today was my 23rd-ish eye exam.  I went in to get my routine check, and the new eye doctor asked if I had considered contacts.  I explained the above issues, and she recommended the daily wear.  You wear them once, and then you toss them.  With the idea that they could be worn every once in a while without needing storage or cleaner, I was sold.

I walked out today with a five day trial, so we'll see.  I have always loved the idea of skipping glasses.  A whole new world of sunglass options open up, which is perfect for the cruise.  With the amount of sunshine that will be around, contacts will come in handy.

One more piece of vanity.  One more moment to think of myself.

And, you know, it's not such a bad thing.

Old School

Yesterday, while out and about having time with my boys, I happened to see a Blockbuster video with signs in the windows declaring that "Everything Must Go!"  I missed the closing of my local Blockbuster for movie deals, so I had hubs pull in.

I was particularly looking for a copy of Pixar's The Incredibles (which I refuse to pay full retail for now that it is several years old).  No luck there, but we did find several Indie films (for me), a NASA documentary (for hubs), and some Care Bears (for the boy).  For my take on "boy" things, please see here.

I have fond memories of the Care Bears.  The Care Bear movie was the first one I remember seeing in a theater.  I was on a mother/daughter vacation when I was little in Savannah, Georgia, and I felt like I was all grown up.

As my son watched the episodes in the collection to the left, I was taken back to my childhood and that trip.  To rushing out of bed on Saturday mornings to see my favorite Care Bears (Good Luck Bear and Hugs 'n Tugs) and Care Bear Cousins (Tender Heart Elephant).  My Care Bears went with me to watch their animated counterparts in action.

After he finished watching the first collection, he moved on to this:

This is touted as the Care Bears' "first CGI Animated Movie!"

Within the first few minutes, I began to wonder if this was a good thing.  With all fairness, there are 16 years between these two DVD's.   There is a push to move away from old school animation.

And it is sad.

As I pass each birthday, I look back on the things of my childhood with fondness.  Nostalgia takes over, and I grow wistful with remembrance of movies, music, and stages of my life that have moved into the past.

While "classic" Disney movies like Beauty and the Beast and Snow White are "Digitally Remastered" to be brighter and improved, they are not subjected to a complete overhaul with new sub-par versions of themselves.

I battle with how I feel about this.  I like the updates, but I am concerned about the potential for a time to arise when the joys of my childhood have well and truly passed away.

And so, I don't waste a moment.  I take every opportunity to share the loves of my childhood with my son, hoping that when he has children he will do the same.

Heavy

While I was perusing the endless world of On Demand searching for "something special" per request of Z, I saw a commercial for "Heavy," a new series on A&E.  In the same tradition of "Intervention" and "Hoarders," "Heavy" focuses on two individuals looking to save their lives by changing their eating and exercise habits.  

Rather than focus on weight loss surgeries (which I believe to be entirely necessary for some people, but that's another post), the show takes two people out of their lives for 30 days to work solely on retraining them in the areas of food and weight loss.  They employ trainers, dietitians, and therapists to ensure that all aspects are addressed.   There is no competition here.  No prizes to be won, other than getting life back.

So, I thought I'd take a peek.

I was very struck by Jodi (one of the participants) on the first show.  In the middle of exercising, she had a breakdown.  It's one that I have had time and time again.

You see, when I have started on this journey in the past, I have been excited about the beginning.  I go in with guns blazing, knowing that I am going to do it this time.  I am not going to fail.

Jodi was the same way, but she found herself stumbling over the same roadblock I have in the past: the expectation that you should be doing more.  It's the idea that you can take it off in an instant.  That you should be dropping pounds like sweat.  You have spent so much time ignoring yourself that you expect to be superwoman.  And you have watched so many episodes of "The Biggest Loser," that you believe it's completely normal to lose 8-10 pounds a week (not outside the highly regimented life of The Ranch, it's not).

For me, when that didn't happen before, I gave up.  I figured if I couldn't see immediate results, then it meant I had failed...again.  But this time, it's different.

And I have no idea why.

Ever since I had a Twitter conversation with Holli a couple of weeks ago, I have been trying to find the answer. I know my relationship with food is different, I just don't know why.  I know that I have stopped looking at it as "I only lost X pounds/ounces, whatever" this week and now think "Sweet!  Lighter than last week!," but again, I don't know why.

And, while I wait for that answer to come to me, I keep pressing on.  I look at how far I have come.  I am now six pants sizes and two shirt sizes smaller.  I play with my son, and he doesn't have to slow down.  I enjoy finding new ways to eat my old favorite foods, and I have discovered that I really do like to cook.

My journey is far from over.  But I no longer think I have miles and miles left to go.  I enjoy my small victories and know that I am making changes that will last a lifetime.  I know that I am teaching my son to have a healthy relationship with food and a love of being active.

As a check-in, I am almost halfway to the 30 pounds I wanted to lose before the cruise leaves in March.  WHEN I make it, I will be a total of 60 pounds lighter (which is the average weight of a 9 year old boy).

On the eve of the six month anniversary of the start of this journey, I am healthier and happier than I have been in such a long time.  I love me.  Not in the egotistical, narcissistic way.  But in the way that drives me to be better for myself.

In the end, maybe that's the answer.  Maybe it has to be about me first.

And now, it is.

Just Enough

A month ago, I received a very daunting bag of goo and some instructions.  A coworker of my husband's had sent home the Amish Friendship Bread starter.  I haven't had any in such a long time that I readily agreed to take the starter.

Basic info:  you add stuff to the goo on day six.  On day ten, you add more stuff, split the goo, add more goodies, bake, keep one of the new starters, and give the other three away with the instructions.  The smell of cinnamon fills the house as it bakes. 

I am now on my third round of baking.  Once you have given one away, that person now has his/her own Friendship Bread starter (and three more of his/her own to give away).   So, you have to find new people who want them.   Each time, I have wondered how I am going to find three new people to give the starter.

And each time, all three end up with new homes.

On the last round, I gave a starter to a dear friend at work.  Yesterday, we were discussing that it was almost time to bake and he said he wasn't sure if he had everything he needed.  I told him not to buy a lot of extras, I thought I had plenty. I knew I this was true of the baking soda, baking powder, and pudding needed for the bread.   I thought I also had enough flour to share, since he was only one cup short.

In order to have enough flour to make the new starters and the bread, you need three and a half cups of flour.  When I measured the amount of flour I had left last night, I had four and a half cups.

One cup extra.  Just enough.

To add to that, when I went to use the sugar from the canister, I had three cups of sugar left.   And what do you know?  You need three cups to make the new starters and bread.

Just enough.  

Cautiously Optimistic

I have mentioned before that I try to be an optimistic person.  I know there is much suffering in the world, some of it in my own family in Kenya.  I know I have been blessed.  

It's part of what makes my current assignment at The Company difficult to digest on some days.  I know it's your lifeline.  I get that.  It is important, however, to keep everything in perspective.

So, in an effort to get back to what I love (working directly with reps at The Company), I applied to work with the newest members of The Company's family (the new hires).

Internal candidate form completed. Resume updated. Impressive cover letter written. All submitted before the deadline.

And then the call.

I got a call last night telling me I would have an interview TODAY, as in less than 24 hours later.   Providing the silver lining is @bluebelleinbg, who keeps me centered in the craziness.   The bright side provided? Less time to stress.

So true.

I woke up, donned the suit, and planned to get to work early to pull data I needed, easing into my day.   Got Z up and dressed and on the way out the door, when I saw my first roadblock to an easy day.   The flat tire.

But, still a silver lining: I had a four hour drive between home and college and was taught before my first day of school how to change a tire.  Additionally, the tire was flat at home instead of out on the road with my toddler.    

So, off came the suit, on came the grubby clothes.  Hubs woke up and provided muscle and 12 minutes later, the tire was changed.   With the promise of a new tire by afternoon, I left my car in his capable hands, donned the suit (again), packed up the boy, and was on my way.

The interview went okay, I think.  I tend to be very critical of myself, and it is easier to think of all of the things I should have said instead of what I said well.

I remain cautiously optimistic.  I hope my qualifications and passion can outweigh my mediocre interview.  I would LOVE to have one of the two positions.  My caution doesn't outweigh my desire to be successful, it is just insulation to ensure that I can continue to be successful in the face of challenges.

And so, I wait for news.   We'll see how it goes.  Either way, I am prepared for the answer.

And waiting for the silver lining.