Just Me

Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?
      Ian - What A Girl Wants

I was not born to stand out.  I am sure someone, somewhere would like to debate that, but I really am okay with it.  I have spent a great deal of my life just wanting to be included.

In barely over five days, I will venture to Lexington to see one of my dearest friends.  I haven't gotten to actually spend time with her in many years, so I am thrilled to get to go.  

While I am there, Rachel has planned a get-together, where I am hoping to get to meet some of my cheerleaders.  I am SO exited.

And SO terrified.

Many of my insecurities are rearing their ugly heads.


What if I don't fit in?  
What if I say something stupid or offensive?  
Will I make a good impression?  


Will they even like me??


These are some of my never-ending questions that are running on a continuous loop through my head.

At just over 30, I have basically figured out who I am.  While I still have my moments, I am fairly comfortable in my own skin.  I can easily be lost in a crowd of three and find myself generally unremarkable.

I'm just me.

But you know what, just me is just fine.

I learned long ago that part of being who I am is not trying to fit into the mold of others' expectations.  Like everyone else, there are a lot of facets of my personality.  This blog post would go on forever if I tried to explain "me" to the world.

So, I am at the point where excitement is overriding the nerves.  I am both giddy with anticipation to see one of my oldest friends (in terms of length of friendship ONLY) and to meet the newest ones.

Just them.  Just me.

I can't wait!

Cuts Like a Knife

Z has a affinity for H2O.  It is my fervent belief that he is part fish. He must be, as I have never had to fight to get him in the bathtub.  He would be eternally pruney-fingered if I would simply allow him to spend as much time in the water as he wants.

It is this joy of the water that I got to experience with my son, husband, Mom, and Pop this past Sunday.

For the last few years, The Company has sponsored a summer event at Nashville Shores, a water park situated on the shores of Percy Priest Lake.  We get a bargain price on tickets that includes all day fun, food, games, and parking.  We went for the first time last year, and so I knew we were going to go this year as well.

As we went about the park, finding more and more fun, we found ourselves in the Lazy River.  There are currents under the water that keep everyone moving around the space, regardless of how much energy you expend (or how little).

It was during this little venture with my family when I heard it.

The comment.

As I was walked along beside my husband and son, I heard someone say "Look there!  It's the white hippo.  And there's another one!"   The only people of larger size around were me and another woman walking further ahead.

It has been quite some time since I have been subjected to verbal assaults from people in public arenas.  The last time I dealt with them was because of the fact that we were an interracial couple in an small-minded town.  I don't believe that I have heard comments about my weight since before I stood up to my brother as a teenager.

As I looked back, I realized those comments weren't from some immature kid whose parents hadn't taught him better manners.  They were from a 30-something guy whose parents hadn't taught him better manners.

I will be honest, I was taken aback by the fact that someone my age would be so disrespectful to other human beings.  Not to mention that he was so bold as to state this as close to me as he was.  After all, I am fat. Not deaf.

When I look back on how I would have previously handled my emotions in the face of such a hurtful remark, I remember the pain.  Comments about my weight had the power to slice me to ribbons in an instant.  No matter how many times I had worked to feel better about myself, the words could destroy all of that work in an instant.  I buried myself in food to hide the pain those damaging words would inflict.

Now, it's completely different.  I have worked to heal myself, both outside and in.  I have changed how I eat, how I live, and how I feel about myself.   No longer do I need to hide myself away and smother my feelings with food.  No more escape.  No more fear.  I AM strong. I AM beautiful.  And I am NOT a damn hippo.

I also would have previously allowed John Doe to return my blistering gaze with his smirk and cowered under the power of my own inadequacies.

Not this time.   I didn't rail.  I didn't even bat an eye.  I looked back at Mr. Doe and politely stated:

"Oh, look!  It's a jackass in his natural habitat!"

Smirk gone.  Balance restored.  Fat Girl: 1.  Loser: 0.

Cuts like a knife?  Not anymore.

Transition

Tran*si*tion  [tran-zish-uh'n]  noun.  "A movement, development, or evolution from one form, stage, or style to another."

Change is coming.

In reality, change is always coming.   It is the inevitability of change that is, in the end, its constant.  You might not know what is going to be different, but you can count that something is going to be different.

My job is transition, literally.  90 days ago, I left my rotational position to join a previous boss in The Company's Transition department.  It is my job to guide the newest members of The Company through training and their first twelve weeks on the phone.

Fear. Trepidation. Excitement. It all comes out in Transition.   We have those who have worked in a call center, those who haven't.  Those who have worked with customers, those who haven't.  Those who will be successful, those who won't.  And it is my job to usher them in and guide them along.

This past week, my first Transition class graduated.   And my second class started training.

In the midst of this, I had to say goodbye.

My wonderful friend Scott is moving on to another position.  It's a perfect one for him, one that will use the skills he spent years perfecting.  He is smart and brave, even if he sometimes doubts both of those. He also doubts what he can do, but he should know that he will be amazing in the new role.

What's not amazing?  It is a position that is not in our call center.  For the last nine months, I have worked with him nearly every day. Joked with him nearly every day. Lunch, nearly every day.  Same trainings, same time. I have learned about Family, Librarians, and Betty.  And I have gained a forever friend.

Tomorrow, that will change.  Tomorrow, I am on my own.  Tomorrow, I am in transition.

I know my abilities, although I tend to question them.  I like people, although (as previously mentioned) it takes me time to open up.   And I know I can do this, although I'd rather not do it alone.

But, it is time to change.  Rearrange.  Rewrite the agenda.

I am in Transition...

...in more ways than one.

The Introverted Extrovert

I am a people person.

Sort of.

I have never had an issue with speaking to people on the phone, which I suppose is beneficial in my line of work.  I like solving issues and working to relate to them.

The funny thing?  I have serious issues doing this in person.  Every personality test I have taken has labeled me as an Extrovert.  Essentially, I am supposed to be completely comfortable in group settings.  I should be thrilled with the idea of interacting with new people and working a crowd.

Yeah, not so much.

I am rather inept at those situations.  I don't mean to be standoffish, it's just my go-to habit when I want to prevent rattling to the point of being that annoying person.  There doesn't seem to be much middle ground for me.

A couple of weeks ago, I RSVP'd my son for the birthday party of one of his daycare classmates. It was a spur of the moment decision.  It wasn't until the morning of said party that I realized the full impact of this decision.

I was taking my son to a party.

A Pool Party.

With people I had NEVER met.

I still wonder why I did it.  I know I'm not comfortable in these situations and, truth be told, I am a bit of a hermit.  I like to be at home.  I don't have some overwhelming desire to be a mover and a shaker.

So, we went.  Z obviously had fun.  He is part fish, after all.  It also appears that when you stick 15 kids in a pool with a water slide their size, you don't have to worry about social ackwardness.

As for me, it was a little difficult.  I normally have the buffer person.  There is at least one person I know, so I am not completely alone in the new situation with new people.

This time, no buffer.  No one I knew.

Commence freak-out.

Thankfully, there was one of those extroverted extroverts who truly doesn't ever meet a stranger.  She was kind and chatty, making the discussion effortless for me.   Which works for me.  Once one of these highly friendly, knows-no-strangers people breaks the ice, I am welcome to go with it.

So, it appears that I will be attending more birthday parties and accepting invites for outings.  I am hoping that this might help me step out of my comfort zone and meet new people.  Additionally, I hope this helps Z become a little more outgoing and independent.

And that I learn to do the same.

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.

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.

Ends and Beginnings

I cannot believe how quickly 2010 passed.  Regardless of how I would like for time to stand still, it inevitably continues to speed by with no hint of slowing.  To know where I am going for 2011, I have to look back on where I have been through last year.

Last year, I found myself wanting more.  Not more stuff, I have plenty of that.  I wanted more to my life.  More joy, more belonging, more of that seemingly undefinable feeling that makes a person sigh with contentment.

And so, I set out to find more.

The first thing I wanted more of was life, which required me to actually work on having less.  Less food, less excuses, less resting on my previous failures.  This didn't come at the start of the year.  I didn't really decide to have more of life until I had the first conversation with Dr. B on July 31st.   The goal was set (lose 50 pounds by the end of the year) and the (meal) plan was put in place.

Results?  42 pounds gone.  Was it 50?  Nope.  But that wasn't important. What is  important is that I lost the excuses and the defeat and instead of  "I didn't meet my goal. I give up" (my previous M.O.), my thought was "I ROCK!!  I lost 42 pounds!!"

And now I have more.  More confidence.  More support.  And more room in my jeans (I really need to go shopping).

I also have more joy in playing with my son.  I don't get tired as easily, which means more time to play together.   So much more.

I also went for more belonging in 2010.  I had grown tired of feeling out of place, so we found a new church in 2010.  And the happiness and comfort in this decision carries us into 2011.   Each time we enter the church, someone new greets us warmly.  It is as if we have been part of St. Paul's all our lives.  Just today, I was told how lucky we were to have found a church family like this.  I find it more God's intervention than luck, but I knew what she meant.

And so, I say goodbye to 2010.  But I am not saying goodbye to the lessons learned and the more that I gained.

In 2011, I am holding on to more life, more joy, and more us.  My life is full, beautiful, blessed.  I enter 2011 with hope and excitement.  I am in a position to enjoy more of life by working my weight loss plan.  My goal this year is to lose 100 pounds.  It's daunting, yes.  But it is also completely within my control to do it.

And I WILL do it.

Pick One

It never ceases to amaze me the boxes we try to put each other and ourselves in.  We want categories: black, white, gay, straight, fat, thin, short, tall, smart, not-so-much...boy, girl.

I am not now, nor have I really ever been, a fan of the box ideology.  I don't get why I can't just be me, whoever that is.  And I will be the first to tell you that it probably changes daily.

That's also why I try to prevent putting my own child in a little box.  Take this afternoon for example. We have started a family tradition on Sundays.  After church, we hit the Big M for a happy meal.  They are very known for carrying two different toy campaigns at once.  Currently, the choices are Transformers figures or Sanrio watches.   This, of course, leads to the economical way to ask which toy a child would like.  When I placed my order today, I got the expected "is that toy for a boy or girl?"

The manager I worked for was quite unique in this regard.  When I worked for the Big M in high school, she  was adamant that we asked in terms of the campaign.  She wanted no parent to feel compelled to place his/her child in the gender box.  So, today, when I was asked that question, I responded with "a Sanrio watch, please."

I won't put my child in a box.  He watches Dora AND Diego.  He has Transformers AND Sanrio watches.  He likes Scooby Doo AND Disney Princesses. He plays with cars AND cuddles his teddy bears.

I don't want my child to pick one.  I want him to be free to like what he likes and be who he is.

Whoever that is.

And even if it changes every day.

Out of Place

My entire life, I have felt on the edge.  In school, I wasn't exactly a standout.  I did well academically, but while there were those around me who had one subject they excelled at over the others, I didn't.  I was the jack of all trades and the master of none.

This has really continued into my adult life.  As I have gotten older, I have probably become more and more guarded.  With a hidden desire to find my place, this doesn't really help me reach that end.   I want to feel like I have a place, I am just not sure really how to find it.

My self-esteem issues as a child and young adult have passed into my adult life in some aspects.  I want to be accepted for who I am, even though I am still learning who that is.  I spent such a great deal of time being looked over that I am not exactly sure what it feels like to be looked at. 

Six weeks ago, I decided to make a major change for us as a family.  My son and I started to attend St. Paul's Episcopal Church at the advice of some wonderful people.  It was a huge change, but I believe change, when entered into at the best time, is a good thing.  When I first started attending, I was amazed at how friendly and welcoming everyone seemed to be. I was cautiously optimistic, really waiting for it to change.

It had been such a long time since I felt that warm, welcoming feeling that I had grown accustomed to cold distance. I am fairly confident that this isn't how you are supposed to feel in church, but it had become that way.  I felt like I was opening myself up to those around me (in our old church) and not feeling much in return.  My method of stepping out is to take a couple of steps forward and wait for the same to be done on the other side.  Over time, we meet in the middle.  I felt like I was walking across a never-ending chasm.  That no matter how many steps I took, I would never reach the other side.

Since we started attending St. Paul's, I have felt such a renewed lease on belonging.  I have begun to believe that the welcoming nature of the people in this church is at their heart, not just how it will be in the beginning.  A couple of weeks ago, I decided to ask for a nametag to be made.  St. Paul's does this so that people can get to know one another.  For me, making this small decision was the first step on a journey to be a part of something.   I feel like a piece of the whole.  In a world where most people fight to stand out, I simply want to fit in.   And at St. Paul's, I do.

Even without that nametag, I have never felt more welcome.  People I have never met before greet me weekly like I am an old friend.  My son has been cuddled and coddled and has been more open than I have ever seen him.  

Each week, I feel more and more like this was the right decision for us.  I know that this is just a small, small step on a much longer journey.  I am enjoying journey and following the road before me.

I can't wait to see where it leads.

Speed Bumps

Today was weigh-in day.  Yeah, well.  I would love to say that I hit some magical goal, birds started singing, the sun started shining, blah blah blah.
Instead, it was very perfect that it has been cold, drizzly, and blech outside. The perfect day for staying in bed, pulling up the covers, and sleeping through it. 

But rather than curl up with a good book and some hot tea, I went to face the scale. And today, the score stands as follows:  Scale 1.  Robin 0.  

I am going to be very transparent and honest with myself and say that I have not been following the meal plan.  I got off track with the wedding a couple of weeks ago, and I have had trouble getting back into the groove.  I started a new work schedule around the same time, and I haven't worked to find my flow.

So, what's a girl to do?  Why, text her BFF for a much needed perspective.

Me:  So, I weighed in this morning *sigh* one step back...

Her:  Don't look at it as a step back, just another step on your weight loss journey. You are learning a whole new way to live, it takes time and patience. You're doing great. A step back would be quitting altogether. This is just a bumpy stretch. You'll get through it and be better for it.

And with those words, she shows again how amazing she is.  I am continually thinking that I have to be strong enough to do this on my own.  This time, I have to reach out.  I understand that no one can make me eat well, exercise, and stay on the path.  But I also understand that without the support, I WILL fail.

And failure just isn't an option.

So, I WILL get back to the plan.  I WILL exercise daily. And I WILL reach out when I need a reminder that I can do this.

Because I CAN.  And I WILL.

We Interrupt This Program...

So, I know I had planned on excursion research, but today's post is taking a slight detour.  We'll move on to Belize tomorrow...

Today was the tentative final fitting for the Matron of Honor gown (aka The Dress).  I say tentative because if it still didn't fit, then it would require alterations to let the dress out.  Not exactly an exciting prospect.  As a reminder:

At last check, our hero (aka me) was able to get the dress zipped.  That was an accomplishment in itself.  It had been 12 weeks since the dress was ordered, and I had just started the meal plan.  However, at the first fitting, the dress was less than flattering.  To be quite honest, I felt a lot like a sausage in an unnatural casing (but it DID zip!). 

That fitting was 17.6 pounds ago.  

As with weigh-ins, I was freaking out.  I know that I have been doing very well and sticking to the plan (with a few extras thrown in).  I have also been exercising daily.  But, last week's shopping trip served to make me a little skeptic about how well this dress would work out. 

It was certainly an ego boost early in the morning.  The dress fits wonderfully!  No sucking in, stiff back, praying craziness required.  I did have to help for the zipper, but only because my go-go-gadget arm had been left at home, and I couldn't reach the hook and eye closure (didn't even realize it was there last time). The dress is now hanging in my closet, awaiting our flight to Wilmington, NC.  

My next stop was to see if I could find shoes to go with the dress I bought for the rehearsal dinner and some new tennis shoes.  A little background:  shoe shopping is a nightmare for me.  When I want shoes, I do the opposite of what most other people do.  I look for my size and THEN look to see if it is a style that I like.  When you wear an 11 or 12 size woman's shoe (depending on the style),  your options tend to be limited.  

I walked past a table with a super cute pair of wedge-heeled sandals.  I took a chance and decided to look for my size.  Lo and behold, they had them!  And they are VERY comfortable!  With one knee surgery under my belt and another forthcoming (eventually), that's a tall order.  

Not only did I find those shoes, I also found a pair of tennis shoes.  K Swiss makes the only shoes that aren't extravagantly expensive and have a solid sole (again, a necessity due to the aforementioned issue with knees). They also have shoes with those requirements that don't resemble orthopedic shoes. 

When I normally shop for shoes for hours only to leave empty-handed (or bare-footed, as the case may be), it is a triumph when I can find what I need in less than 20 minutes.  Not only that, but both were on sale (which is ALWAYS a good thing).

All-in-all, today was a very good day for boosting self-esteem and reaffirming that I am on the right path.  There are days when I just want to give in and give up.  Today was NOT one of those days.  Today was the kind of day that reminds me that taking care of myself is important.  It reminds me to keep pressing on towards my goal,  Maybe not without feat but certainly with purpose.  

And with that, we now return you to our regularly scheduled programming.  Tomorrow, Belize.

Skinny Days

Skinny days.

If you have had them, then you know what i am talking about. They are those days when your self-esteem is at a peak. You don your clothes and just feel great.

Today is one of those days for me. I got up, hung out with the boys for a little while, then got ready for work. As I was getting ready, I just felt good. The crap from two days ago is out of my system, I feel light on my feet, and am back to my "normal" self (normalcy is, of course, subjective).

Prior to today, I really hadn't "felt" the weight loss. Others have commented, but I was still feeling oblivious to it. Today, I don't. I really feel energetic and bubbly.

So, I enter the weekend hopeful. It is suposed to rain, but that just means indoor activities. I am thinking about venturing to some shopping. We'll see. I don't want to spend a great deal of money on clothes, but I cannot continue to wear baggy, saggy clothes in my current position.

All I know is that today I feel good. I take it day-by-day, and it helps to let me know that the path I've chosen is a good one.

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