Too Fat for Fun July 3, 2008

I got invited to go to Cape Cod for the holiday weekend.  I opted out.  I thought I would visit some old friends over the long weekend.  Then I thought again.  Maybe I’ll go to the beach…..Oh, that’s right…I haven’t put on a bathing suit in 20 years….Well, at least I’ll maybe ask some friends to go on a picnic for the Fourth…..but I might melt in my turtleneck and long pants.

So it’s another year of putting off living my life because I’m too fat.  If I were a friend of mine (and shouldn’t I be?) I would tell me that I’m being completely ridiculous.  That life is too short to play the “when I have this situation, then I’ll be happy…” game.  Year after year goes by, with me avoiding people and events, looking at life with my nose pressed up against the window.  Wishing I could go out and play.

Oh, I’ve been thinner…never fatter….the human accordion.  Lost a lot of weight more times than Brittany Spears has made the cover of a magazine.  But that’s not the point.  Now is all there is.  I may never feel thin enough to go to the beach.  These arms may never qualify for a sleeveless shirt again.  

And I will never get today back.  

Paunch be damned!  What you see is what you get….and if you look real  close, maybe it’s not all that bad…

Lost and Found July 2, 2008

I started cleaning out my food pantry today.  With about half of its contents presently on the kitchen floor, I have been surprised to find what has been hiding amidst cans of baked beans and bottles of vinegar.  Aside from shelf after shelf filled with items that expired before Elvis did, I uncovered: 

 

1.  My passport.  (Hey, at least it was with all my international spices.)

2.  582 Plastic Bags.

3.  Three undeveloped disposable cameras from unknown events. (I’m a little afraid to see what’s in there…)

4.  A frisbee.

5.  A garage door opener (that doesn’t open MY garage doors…)

 

I’m motivated to do a thorough job,  hoping that among these hidden treasures I might find a winning lottery ticket or maybe some cold hard cash.  At this rate, I won’t be surprised if we finally learn the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa.

 

 

The Friendship Pin June 26, 2008

I was on a mission this morning.  Having a list full of errands to accomplish in only a short time, I raced into the grocery store, huffing and puffing down each and every aisle.  Grabbing my change from the checkout person, barely looking up, I ran back toward the parking lot. 

“Excuse me, lady?”  came a somewhat slurred voice.  “Would you like to support our Friendship Cove  (not the real name) Program?”  I stopped to look up and there was a young woman with Down Syndrome seated at a table with a little tin can in front of her.  She appeared to be in her 20’s with a crooked smile that revealed all her teeth and gums. 

“Sure,  I’d be glad to, ” I replied as I threw a dollar bill into the bucket that seemed to so far only have a few coins in the bottom.

“Wow!” she squealed, “thank you So much!  You should have one of my friendship pins!  They are really beautiful!”

“Did you make them yourself?” I asked her as she so proudly showed me her selection of pins to choose from.  (Her handmade “friendship pins” were safety pins that had 3 plastic beads on them.)

“Take more than one, ” she suggested, “you have more than one friend don’t you?  You could give one to all of your friends!” 

“Wow! Thank you So much”, I replied. 

Based on all I learned from that brief encounter, I’d say that dollar was money well spent.   

You Can Dress ‘Em Up….. June 23, 2008

I used to think I had some modicum of class….until Saturday. 

I met my friend for a late lunch where we spent several hours chatting and just catching up.  While we talked, I sipped (ok-gulped) my diet soda.  Our very conscientious waitress was quick to refill my beverage without my even asking, and by the time we paid the check, I had consumed enough diet soda to fill a small bathtub. 

My weekend plans included taking in a movie, and needless to say, finding and using “the facilities” was going to be necessary before making this two-hour commitment.  At this point, the need was approaching URGENT,  as I raced into the nearest ladies’ room.  Busting through the doors, I found all three of the “stalls” (what are we, horses?) occupied, one by a woman actually talking on the phone!  I waited, fidgeting as if I was rehearsing for Riverdance.

I practically ran down the six year old who was the first to saunter (well, it sure seemed like a saunter) from her “relief station”, and although I was practically frantic for relief, I remembered mother’s advice and quickly made my TP triangle, hands shaking all the while. 

One 6-inch zipper away from sanity, I gave a tug…..then a yank…..Oh, dear Lord, what’s the problem?   This can’t be happening…..my tucked-in shirt was caught up in my zipper!  OK…all I have to do is stay calm and carefully remove the shirt from the zipper…..

I gently (then not-so-gently) pulled on the shirt, then pulled on the zipper, only making matters worse.  The shirt was now permanently bonded to the jeans.   Unfortunately for me, the pants were so tight to begin with that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that these pants were moving if the zipper didn’t.  I started to panic and began tearing at the shirt.  Then it came to me.  Take off the shirt.  Bent in half in a space not big enough to turn around in, I wriggled my way half-way out of the shirt.  The fact that the shirt was still stuck in my pants was prohibiting me from removing it fully.  Besides, as I stood strangled by my own attempts at freedom, it occured to me that removing the shirt would not solve the bottom half of my problem.

So…..I did the only thing left for me to do.  I started biting the shirt out of my zipper.  Yes,  my dignity down the toilet (so to speak) I was reduced to my animal instints.  Freedom at any cost.

Clearly not the vision of the perfect lady…..

but thank heavens for sharp incisors. 

The “Missing” Link June 20, 2008

Talking just to hear my head roar……that’s what I thought I had been doing lately with this blog.  After 90 posts (a tiny number in the real blogging world, but monumental for me) I was begining to feel like a broken record, with very little of substance to report.  Nothing seemd funny enough, or profound enough, or even of interest enough to put down.

Besides, to be honest this had begun as a completely self-indulgent journal, a narcissistic way of processing my life’s happenings….just for “fun”.  I hadn’t intended it to be more than that.  And lately, I’ve been remiss….  gotten completely distracted and let the blog slide. 

Then today, completely out of the blue I received the comment, “I miss you.”   Who knew that these three simple words could have such a profound effect. I guess I forgot that anyone was really “listening’.  Thanks, Yara, wherever you are, for that simple acknowledgement……It reminded me how much we all want to feel that our presence matters in some (even) small way….and that our absence would be noted.

Who are you missing? 

Then tell ‘em already……..

The Hypocritical Oath June 14, 2008

So I’m driving down the road today and what do I see but a policeman driving by while talking on his cell phone…..without a head set.  Call me crazy, but I assumed the cell phone law applied to all  drivers (even policemen). 

Don’t get me wrong.  I have great respect for those who put themselves in harm’s way to protect and serve, i.e. policemen, firemen, proctologists…..but it’s always a little disappointing when someone in a position of authority doesn’t abide by the very rules they enforce.

This is probably why I am a lousy disciplinarian.  I find it very hard to tell my son he must clean his room, when he can’t get the door to mine open.  Or why I pray he has not been paying attention too closely to the speedometer when I am behind the wheel, when I deliver my “safety first” message.  And I’m sure the advice to “stop drinking so much soda” is probably more credible from someone who isn’t sitting with a bag a Cheetos in her lap.

Sometimes I think that we should have to prove ourselves up to the task of modelling proper behavior before we accept the position as parents/authority figures.  My favorite motto: “Do as I say, not as I do” has been less than inspiring I’m sure.  

It’s All Greek to Me June 8, 2008

I’m thinking of taking up Greek folkloric dancing.  I went to a Greek festival and was completely moved by the dancing.  The only word that comes to mind (besides “sweaty” and “stamina”) is JOY.  I was overcome with feelings of happiness just watching these young men and women dance the dance of their country of origin.  I was surprised to learn that the folkloric dances of ancient times are alive and well and passed on from generation to generation still today.  This became evident once the performance had ended and the dancing was open to all.  Young and old, fit and fat were out in the circle, communing and exuding joy.

I watched the dancers, marvelling at the stories played out and the endurance demonstrated, all while I munched on a plate full of honey-coated fried dough balls (not  the delicacy’s traditional name…).  I learned that in ancient times, the dance was held in high regard for its educational properties.  Dance was essential for developing personality as well as preparing for battle (!).  According to Plato, “The dance, of all the arts, is the one that most influences the soul.  Dancing is divine in its nature and is the gift of the gods.”

 

…based on the look on the dancers faces……I’d buy that.

Busted June 4, 2008

I’d recognize the tan legs and Nikes from a mile away.  I’m usually quite a sociable person, but I would have done just about anything to avoid this next conversation.   There was no way around it…..no way of denying that I was clearly deciding on what flavor of ice cream to purchase when the manager from my gym spotted me.

“Michelle?” she asked, “is that you?”  Part of her uncertainty probably arose from the fact that I had my head stuck as far as I could into the freezer, hoping the frost on the door would hide me from this humiliation.  The other part is that I’ve probably gained 50 pounds since I saw her last. 

You’ll notice I haven’t blogged about my trips to the gym since my “Aches and Stains” Blog back in February.  (http://lifeonhysterialane.wordpress.com/2008/02/06/aches-and-stains/)  That’s because there haven’t been any.  Well, there probably were one or two since then, but really….one or two?  The only exercise I’ve truly committed myself to is working my jaw muscle.

“And where have you  been?” she asked with a slight reprimanding tone.  Oh, I’ve been pretty much dividing my time between here in the freezer section and the drive-up window at Chubbie’s Burgers and Thighs.  “Well, we miss you at the gym,” she stated as if it were actually true that “they” could miss someone who was never there in the first place.  I think what she meant to say was, ”Don’t you think it’s time to put down the ice cream and hit the treadmill, Porky?”

Perhaps I’m projecting…. it has been on my mind alot lately.  The self-sabotage by sundae.  I know that if I am going to actually sprout those wings, I would have to free them from under several layers of unnecessary pudge.  Ugh.  This becoming magnificent is gonna be harder than I thought. 

 

 

….hey….wait a minute…..what was she  doing in the ice cream section?

Lowdown on the Showdown June 3, 2008

AND NOW FOR THE LOWDOWN ON LAST NIGHT’S SPEAKING ENGAGEMENT:

 

I wondered if they would like it.

 

I sweat like I was filming a Gatorade commercial. 

I coughed like I was filming an asthma medication commercial.

My talk could have been longer.

My veal couldn’t have been better.

A nervous young scholarship recipient quietly told me that I had truly inspired her.

A kind older woman told me not to worry about my weight….that it would come off when I was ready.  (thanks?)

I got flowers.

I got compliments.

I got happy.

 

I knew I was where I was supposed to be.

 

Crawling the Talk June 2, 2008

Well, folks, I’m in full-blown Hysteria mode now, as I am making final preparations for my speaking engagement this evening.  I thought that it would get easier, particularly since I am using a portion of the material I am already familiar with…….but….Nooohhoooooo….

My asthma is kicking in and I already can’t remember my name, let alone what the heck I’m suppose to say to these lovely women of the American Business Women’s Associaton.  And I am the motivator?  (That still cracks me up!)  I will smile and pray, bring a sweatband and overdose on ACTAZIF.  One way or another, in 8 or 9 hours, it’ll all be over. 

So I’m not completely “walking my talk” re: the importance of believing in oneself yet.  I am crawling though ….or I wouldn’t even be showing up tonight. 

Wish me luck.