I cut my hair. Something I swore I'd never do. Not just because Donnie hates short hair, but mainly because I always thought my hair was my beauty. Silly. I know it sounds absurd, but there was a time when I wouldn't even wear my hair in a ponytail for fear that it would expose so much of my face, which I so deeply felt wasn't good enough. I thought only girls who had gorgeous faces could afford to wear their hair up. Not average girls like myself. No, girls like me had to deflect from their "averageness" by having long flowing hair.
I'm not sure at what point in life I decided to embrace what God created in me. The beauty that glows so brightly now when I look in the mirror, is vastly different that what I once saw. The face looking back at me now is so much more confident and glorious than the one that stared back at me in my twenties. I could speculate I suppose. The reality of having beautiful friends who were equally discouraged about their appearance. Finding out that the popular, most beautiful girls had all the same inhibitions about their bodies and physical appearance that I had. Discovering that people whom I found to be the most beautiful were the very people whom others found so very unattractive.
At what point did we as women decide we weren't good enough for the rest of the world? When did we become so vain? When I was a little girl I never once looked at myself and thought so negatively of my appearance. I never thought, my nose was too big, my ears not proportionate, or pirouetted to scrutinize my thighs. I never wished I was smarter, stronger, thinner, prettier. There must have been some point in life when it all changed. Some point when I became engrossed with my appearance to the rest of humanity and let myself obsess about my body, my freckles, my round face, short legs, chubby tummy, and big arms. Yes, I'm certain that if I could go back in life and change one thing it would that one day when I stood at that mirror facing all my imperfections and the moment when I told myself I didn't measure up.
How many wasted moments in time have we spent as women worrying about "not being good enough"?
I believe life is a slow process of constantly trying to reinvent ourselves as women. Its a never ending maze, once we get one thing right, we allow ourselves to see one more thing we missed. The cycle to measure up is endless. I am not quite sure at what point I decided I would overcome this obstacle and embrace what God created in me, but there was definitely a moment in time when I decided to allow Him to turn the tide in my life. I refuse to be put in a box. I won't allow myself to fence me in. The possibilities of this fantastic life are endless, and I won't allow the rest of the world to shape me into something I am not. Into its idea of beauty.
So, I cut my hair off. Partly because I was curious what it would feel like as I've never once had short hair...but mostly because I wanted to prove to myself that I am beautiful without it. Sometimes that's what it takes, drastic measures in life to prove to ourselves as women that what God created in us is far more beautiful than what the world or our warped senses of reality could ever endeavor. Each of us are beautiful creations. Pleasing to the sight of the only one who truly matters, our magnificent creator. The one who sees past the cellulite, past the bad skin, the big thighs, the blemish we work so hard to hide, the one who sees straight through to what the rest of the world gets mere glimpses of. Reality is who we are when we stand alone facing a mirror, when no one else is around to impress, when there is just You, and.....You. The moment in time when you have no one but yourself and who He created within you. Find that. Embrace that. Then let the rest of the world see it too.
Then, and only then will you be truly Beautiful.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Epitaphs
Wandering thru a cemetery on a breezy summer day is something to leave you pondering the meaning of your life. The meaning of a life in general. Not so much the typical “Why are we here?”, “Where did we come from?”, “What is my purpose?” questions, but more so the question of life itself.
Sometimes when its quiet, I like to let my mind wonder just to see where it takes me. The mind is a wonderful thing, with the power to dream, fantasize and imagine. The power to store images from years before, memories you had since lost sight of, ideas and philosophies on life that you had forgotten existed there at all.
Are you thirsty?
Sometimes when its quiet, I like to let my mind wonder just to see where it takes me. The mind is a wonderful thing, with the power to dream, fantasize and imagine. The power to store images from years before, memories you had since lost sight of, ideas and philosophies on life that you had forgotten existed there at all. On Sunday I did just that. After paying respects at Donnie’s moms grave site, I walked past countless others as I stopped to read the tombstones. “To know her was to love her.” was boldly written in memory of a 16 year old girl. Her picture tucked gently in the embedded stone locket. She was beautiful, with long blond hair and crystal blue eyes. I wondered what had happened to her. A car accident? Cancer? Suicide?
“He always stood for what was right and good, We will forever cherish his memory.” This stone was old and the epitaph worn. WWI was above his name. Although it’d been nearly 50 years since he passed on, there were fresh flowers in the metal vase. I thought, for someone to have been here with fresh flowers, how old must they be to remember him? A daughter? Grandchild perhaps? I continued to walk past the tombs... a baby, a mother, a son, a beloved sister to all… “Goodbye ole fishin’ buddy”, “Sleep, my little one, sleep”….I closed my eyes and tried to envision them, my minds eye seeing numerous iridescent people floating thru the cemetery surrounded by fields of daffodils and fluttering butterflies. Envisioning men of war, peacefully surrounded by all the colorful flowers, floating thru eternity as if they were meant to be there all along. My beautiful visions were crashed with the reality of pain that went along with the passing of my own dear grandmother. The pain that came with the passing of my mother in law. The tears that I watched my husband shed by her graveside. The regrets I saw portrayed by his dad, for all the things he wanted to say but didn’t, all the things he wanted to do but didn’t, and all the pain he felt he’d caused. Regrets. Regrets that I didn’t have time for my own dear grandmother in the few years before she died. I remembered her calling me for help with cooking one day, she sounded frail, and cried that she just couldn’t finish her dinner. I had things to do, and was so busy that day. I didn’t have time, but went anyway. I Rushed through helping her so I could attend to whatever task it was that I found more important, and jetted out the door. Only to realize a few short months later that she was gone. Poof.
Why are we always surprised by death? Even when we think we are prepared we still seem to experience this numbing shock. We had 5 weeks to absorb the idea of the death of my mother in law. But I fear that even had we had 5 years, we would have been just as shell shocked. We are created to live, and then we die. We know this. No one ever thinks they will live in this body forever. Yet it never fails when we lose a loved one, we always seem to feel short changed. We stand there wondering what happened? Why? How God could allow it? The bottom line is we will never know the answer to those questions. We are not in charge. There is not a huge bearded figure clothed in white up above the clouds saying “Ok, now its that ones turn…stroke, *poof*, that one, heart attack,*poof*, car crash, *poof*, house fire, *poof*”. We live our lives and sometimes things happen. Sometimes our bodies age and give out on us, and sometimes unfair things seem to happen to really good people. Such is life.
One day I will die. Its out of my control and it is guaranteed to happen. It is the one sure thing I can count on in life. And so I beg the question of myself. How will I be remembered? Fifty years after I die, will someone be leaving fresh flowers on my grave? Will my grandchildren grow up and say, “Remember when?” Or will my legacy casually fade over time. How can I leave my mark on this world. I’m not famous. Not an actor. A singer. Not a philosopher who’s ideas will be written across the pages of a world renowned book.
Why do I feel the need to be remembered anyway? Why do I feel the need to amount in the end to more than I amounted to in the beginning? Even the humblest of human beings want to be remembered for something. It is the drive within us, the drive to be noticed, loved, admired, respected. The thing that causes us to question our very existence here on planet earth.
Grasping death in its entirety, acknowledging that it is a part of life and ultimately inevitable for every person will bring you to a place of freedom. It will cause you to live each moment as if it were your last. To love. To give. To hope and dream. To stop what you are doing and give of your time and yourself. I have this little thing that I like to do. When I am asked to give of myself and find that I’m thinking I have better things to do at that moment, I ask myself a question. “If I don’t do what I intended to do, if my plans don’t come to pass….Will it really matter ten years from now? Will it matter in light of eternity?” If I can answer “no” to that question, then it’s a good way to measure whether or not it really matters in life at that moment. I’ve learned that even the most dutifully planned out details fall through. The most prepared people will experience failure and in the end, life happens. And at some point, even death happens.
Lately God has dealt heavily with me on this subject. Every person matters. Every life matters. Every homeless person, drunk person, drug addict, every orphan, every criminal, every child, mother, father, good or bad matter. Our gages in which we measure the purpose of a life, the importance of a life, is severely skewed. I believe it was Dr. Suess who said, “A person is a person, no matter how small.”
Every person you encounter will remember you for something. Will it be for the ugly way you treated them in the checkout line at walmart? Or for the hurtful words you dealt them when things didn’t go your way at work? Or for the way you talked about them when you thought no one was around to remember? How do you want your life to be remembered? Fifty years from now, will someone be leaving flowers on your grave?
Are you thirsty?
Thursday, May 6, 2010
The hardest Job on Planet Earth, Raising Kids
I thought I was a great parent. After all, I’ve managed to bring three kids to the ages of 10, 6, and 4 without so much as even ONE stitch or major emergency room visit. When we go out to restaurants, older people are always commenting on how well behaved our children are. To which I beam a “Thank You” and pretend to happily receive the “Mom of the Year” award. To my defense, when they do act like total complete idiots, I have always had the ADHD to blame. I simply reply, “His medicine wears off around 4pm, I’m sorry.” or, “She hasn’t had a nap today, she’s cranky.”
This is all fine and good while in the public eye, but step into my car around 3pm when I pick them up from school and you will see a whole other side. My kids do not play video games or watch television programs that show one iota of aggression or murder or theft or vengeance. Yet, I have never seen three children ready to unleash the wrath of an army on one another as mine seem to feel the urge to. At 3pm, a mere crayon becomes a missile in the hands of my 6 year old. A shoe? A projectile weapon. A hairbrush? A cat of nine tails. Its like all day they sit in class plotting against one another. What, you ask, could possibly invoke such rage in a 10 year old? It can be as simple as his sister picking up one of his pokemon cards. Or, changing the channel when his favorite show comes on. As for the girls, they play wonderfully together. Especially when they are plotting to throw dirt balls at their brother before running as fast as they can towards the front porch. Or, pouring milk into his freshly poured glass of tea. Oh yes, they are precious little girls, with great imaginations, which they love to test out on their brother. Now, I’m not so naive as to assume that my children will live in fairytale land and play together in perfect harmony at all times. However, this rage that they seem to have for one another is something that I am simply unwilling to tolerate any longer. If as children they cannot learn to work together as a team or treat each other respectfully, how can we possibly assume they will grow up to treat others respectfully?
Aside from the “sibling rivalry” there is a more pressing issue. How they treat Donnie and I. Now, I’ve always prided myself on being that laid back, stress free, not so structured type of mom. That was all well and good when I was raising one child. It almost nearly worked with two. Throw a third into the mix and you have total chaos in your home. I thought I was stern enough. I mean, they know that when I yell really loud for their dad to do something about their behavior then that is their cue to stop the behavior. But what was I teaching them? I was teaching them that when Dad’s not around you can behave like raging lunatics until I grab the first thing with spanking power and swat you with it. They also knew that if they cried really theatrically then we would probably feel bad and cave in by giving them their way. For example: If we said 30 mins of TV before bed and at 30 mins they turned on the tears and said their favorite show was nearly over, then guess what? We caved. If I was on the phone and asked them to be quiet and one of them continued to ask for something…I caved and gave it to them just to shut them up. What was I teaching my children? You see, we are always teaching. As a parent, your entire existence is teaching something.
If I never honored my word with my children, what kind of adult would I be raising? An adult who never honored their word with the rest of the world. In essence, I’m raising a liar. It took me a while to own my poor actions. There have been times when I thought, “What is wrong with this child?” What I should have been wondering is, “What is wrong with my parenting?”
I will tell you what was wrong with my parenting. The answer lies in one word. L-A-Z-Y. Yep, I just said it. I called myself lazy. Little Miss full of energy, workout 3-5 days a week, walk/run over 10 miles per week, sew and run a website in between, make time to post on face book while cooking dinner, doing laundry, washing dishes and don’t forget shopping at the mall…..yet can’t take the time out of my day to follow through on a threat to spank, do a time out, or take away a privilege from her child if they fail to follow directions. Want to know the worst part? The worst thing is that I was actually lying to myself. I told myself that this was normal and three kids is just chaotic and that when they were teenagers they would magically obey me more because they would be more mature. PSHHHH, YEA RIGHT!
I overheard an older gentleman say to a young mom talking about her children misbehaving a few days ago, he said “When I was a child, I wouldn’t have even thought of behaving that way.” To which the young mother replied, “When you were a child, children were different.” To which, I replied, because I couldn’t help myself, “No, when he was a child, Parents were different.” This was spoken more for myself as a “aha” moment than it was for her, but those around us looked at me as if I’d just stabbed someone, lol. But isn’t this the truth? You guys, its not children who have changed. Its parents who have changed. We didn’t behave disrespectfully because we were not allowed to behave that way. Call me old fashioned, but you know my philosophy. “If it ain’t workin’. Change it.”
Starting yesterday, I did. I changed it. Gathered the kids together and explained to them that their behavior was unacceptable. I also apologized to them for not spanking them when I said I would, or not turning off the television at 8pm as I’d promised to, or allowing them to have their way because they bugged me to death or cried. I told them that by not keeping my word, I was teaching them not to keep theirs. I asked them if they wanted a liar for a mommy? To which they looked at me completely dumbfounded and replied, “NO.” My methods may be a bit extreme, but I think that raising children calls for extreme measures. Most of all, it calls for extreme sacrifice. Today was the hardest day in parenting that I think I’ve had. I had to remove privileges of TV for an entire evening after school as well as for tomorrow for one of them. It broke my heart to interrupt Cailins favorite program, Paula Dean, but I knew that I had to do it. Listening to her cry for over an hour, nearly broke my heart. However, I kept my cool and gently reminded her that she had broken a rule and chosen her consequence. I reminded her that if I allowed her to break the rules now, then she would grow up and think it was ok to break rules all the time. As we all know, a grown up breaking the rules will have far greater consequences than a child breaking them would. I want the best for my children. They will be adults far longer than they will be children and it is scary to think that if they can’t respect their own parents for a few short years then how will they possibly respect themselves or the rest of the world for life?
Are you thirsty?
This is all fine and good while in the public eye, but step into my car around 3pm when I pick them up from school and you will see a whole other side. My kids do not play video games or watch television programs that show one iota of aggression or murder or theft or vengeance. Yet, I have never seen three children ready to unleash the wrath of an army on one another as mine seem to feel the urge to. At 3pm, a mere crayon becomes a missile in the hands of my 6 year old. A shoe? A projectile weapon. A hairbrush? A cat of nine tails. Its like all day they sit in class plotting against one another. What, you ask, could possibly invoke such rage in a 10 year old? It can be as simple as his sister picking up one of his pokemon cards. Or, changing the channel when his favorite show comes on. As for the girls, they play wonderfully together. Especially when they are plotting to throw dirt balls at their brother before running as fast as they can towards the front porch. Or, pouring milk into his freshly poured glass of tea. Oh yes, they are precious little girls, with great imaginations, which they love to test out on their brother. Now, I’m not so naive as to assume that my children will live in fairytale land and play together in perfect harmony at all times. However, this rage that they seem to have for one another is something that I am simply unwilling to tolerate any longer. If as children they cannot learn to work together as a team or treat each other respectfully, how can we possibly assume they will grow up to treat others respectfully?
Aside from the “sibling rivalry” there is a more pressing issue. How they treat Donnie and I. Now, I’ve always prided myself on being that laid back, stress free, not so structured type of mom. That was all well and good when I was raising one child. It almost nearly worked with two. Throw a third into the mix and you have total chaos in your home. I thought I was stern enough. I mean, they know that when I yell really loud for their dad to do something about their behavior then that is their cue to stop the behavior. But what was I teaching them? I was teaching them that when Dad’s not around you can behave like raging lunatics until I grab the first thing with spanking power and swat you with it. They also knew that if they cried really theatrically then we would probably feel bad and cave in by giving them their way. For example: If we said 30 mins of TV before bed and at 30 mins they turned on the tears and said their favorite show was nearly over, then guess what? We caved. If I was on the phone and asked them to be quiet and one of them continued to ask for something…I caved and gave it to them just to shut them up. What was I teaching my children? You see, we are always teaching. As a parent, your entire existence is teaching something.
If I never honored my word with my children, what kind of adult would I be raising? An adult who never honored their word with the rest of the world. In essence, I’m raising a liar. It took me a while to own my poor actions. There have been times when I thought, “What is wrong with this child?” What I should have been wondering is, “What is wrong with my parenting?”
I will tell you what was wrong with my parenting. The answer lies in one word. L-A-Z-Y. Yep, I just said it. I called myself lazy. Little Miss full of energy, workout 3-5 days a week, walk/run over 10 miles per week, sew and run a website in between, make time to post on face book while cooking dinner, doing laundry, washing dishes and don’t forget shopping at the mall…..yet can’t take the time out of my day to follow through on a threat to spank, do a time out, or take away a privilege from her child if they fail to follow directions. Want to know the worst part? The worst thing is that I was actually lying to myself. I told myself that this was normal and three kids is just chaotic and that when they were teenagers they would magically obey me more because they would be more mature. PSHHHH, YEA RIGHT!
I overheard an older gentleman say to a young mom talking about her children misbehaving a few days ago, he said “When I was a child, I wouldn’t have even thought of behaving that way.” To which the young mother replied, “When you were a child, children were different.” To which, I replied, because I couldn’t help myself, “No, when he was a child, Parents were different.” This was spoken more for myself as a “aha” moment than it was for her, but those around us looked at me as if I’d just stabbed someone, lol. But isn’t this the truth? You guys, its not children who have changed. Its parents who have changed. We didn’t behave disrespectfully because we were not allowed to behave that way. Call me old fashioned, but you know my philosophy. “If it ain’t workin’. Change it.”
Starting yesterday, I did. I changed it. Gathered the kids together and explained to them that their behavior was unacceptable. I also apologized to them for not spanking them when I said I would, or not turning off the television at 8pm as I’d promised to, or allowing them to have their way because they bugged me to death or cried. I told them that by not keeping my word, I was teaching them not to keep theirs. I asked them if they wanted a liar for a mommy? To which they looked at me completely dumbfounded and replied, “NO.” My methods may be a bit extreme, but I think that raising children calls for extreme measures. Most of all, it calls for extreme sacrifice. Today was the hardest day in parenting that I think I’ve had. I had to remove privileges of TV for an entire evening after school as well as for tomorrow for one of them. It broke my heart to interrupt Cailins favorite program, Paula Dean, but I knew that I had to do it. Listening to her cry for over an hour, nearly broke my heart. However, I kept my cool and gently reminded her that she had broken a rule and chosen her consequence. I reminded her that if I allowed her to break the rules now, then she would grow up and think it was ok to break rules all the time. As we all know, a grown up breaking the rules will have far greater consequences than a child breaking them would. I want the best for my children. They will be adults far longer than they will be children and it is scary to think that if they can’t respect their own parents for a few short years then how will they possibly respect themselves or the rest of the world for life?
Are you thirsty?
Monday, April 26, 2010
"The Biggest Gainer"
It was a sultry Louisiana day in September of 2008 and I remember it as if it were yesterday. I had just arrived home from picking up my two oldest from school and my daughter wanted me to play outside with her. After a few pushes on the swing and a short game of chase, I could barely catch my breath. Now, I had decided nearly two weeks before that I would embark on a weight loss journey which would consist of changing my diet ever so slightly and see what would happen. At this time, I was tipping the scales at nearly 215lbs….yes you heard right, this little 5 ft girl, was 215lbs. As I caught my breath, walked inside and plopped myself on that sofa to watch Oprah, I realized something…..I was missing out on valuable time with my children because I refused to take care of my body.
In that moment I vowed to do something I swore I’d never do again. I vowed to go to the gym. I had paid for several health club memberships over the years and the biggest workout I probably got out of them was when I wrote out the check each month for payment. It wasn’t fun for me because I didn’t see immediate results like I did with all the diet pills I’d taken throughout the years. But then something hit me….Being out of shape wasn’t fun either. It wasn’t fun for me, for my children or for my sweet husband, who, bless his heart, loved me just as much then as ever.
Now the first problem I encountered was that I had nothing to wear...tennis shoes were not in my vocabulary, but I just so happened to have a pair underneath my bed for occasions such as this. Gym shorts? Who wears those dreadful things? They do nothing for a figure, or lack of figure in my case...I guess if I had Jennifer Lopez's body, I'd look good in some gym shorts, but even hers have little Swarovski crystals down the side, at least they are fashionable. Well, I dug some of those up too, and of course they looked as bad as I imagined they would. My bright orange Amite Baptist Church T-ball tee shirt topped off the outfit. Now, the next thing I tell you will definitely be hard to believe, but I am telling you the honest truth. I had to stop at the Dollar Tree to get some Gym Socks. Yes, you read that right...this little southern diva had no need for socks as she doesn't intend on wearing tennis shoes! I had only bought a couple pair over the years, for wearing with boots or helping out with my kids ball teams.
So here I am...scanning my little key fob thingy at the entrance to Anytime fitness. I can see my best friend on an elliptical machine inside the window, who by the way exercises regularly. She's laughing. Probably because shes never seen me dressed like that and she knows how much I HATE it!! I did apply some fresh lip gloss before I got out of the car, and I was very thankful for that as I entered the dungeon of fit little barbies with no make up on whose butts definitely looked like they visit this place more than starbucks. At least my lips were shiny and sweet......that is until the sweat started dripping from them!
Within the first five minutes I was absolutely certain as to the reasons I had avoided these places over the years. Sweat. Men. Barbie Doll Bodies. Sweat. Pain. Sticky Hair. Red Cheeks. Shorts that crawl between your thighs. Personal trainers that get way too personal and have you making a fool of yourself in front of everyone. Oh and did I say, SWEAT! Seven minutes in and I am ready to bolt for the door. I had picked up a pair of headphones as a friend recommended and HgTv was playing on the big screen. Sell this house was not making me feel energetic enough to finish this 35 minute elliptical session I had keyed into the machine, so, I decided to try something else. Aha, there we go, Food Network! Now that's my channel. As I'm watching Rachel Ray whip up something tasty, it occurred to me that it might make me look extra fat and unhealthy to those around me if I were watching food network at that moment, so....I sucked in my tummy extra hard and searched the monitor for some music.
I landed on some dance music, now that made me wanna work out. Ten minutes in and its really burning, but I can do this with good music. Has anyone ever watched BET channel on tv? Well, you should check it out sometime, it will give you some insight to other cultures. At this point I’m thirteen minutes in as I look over at my friend and mouth “I cannot do this” to which she mouths back, “Yes you can”, to which I mouth back, “See, I can't be good at everything”, to which she just shakes her head. I can not be a quitter, is what I kept telling myself. My friends will never let me live it down if I get off this machine. “Focus on the rap music and pretend your in this video shaking your butt with all those girls“. Eighteen minutes in and I find myself realizing that maybe I can do this.
Twenty Four Minutes. Why on earth do people enjoy this? I liken it to being held down and fed flies. No, I take that back, eating flies would be easier than being on this machine. Oh, and I should add, every time you try to take a break or slow down...All Cap letters pop up on the screen, screaming at you to speed up....I feel like I'm back in 9th grade with my coach yelling “Faster Kiesha...those short legs can go faster than that!” I wanted to punch her, and I wanted to do the same to that darned machine!! By some small miracle I managed to finish the whole Thirty five minutes I’d programmed in, so, just for fun, and because the scale was by the weights that we were moving to next, I decided I'd step on the scale and see what my 35 minutes of hell had gotten me. Drumroll……NO WHERE!! It had gotten me two more lbs than my scale at home had!!!! Now, explain to me the fairness in that! I come to the gym because I want to lose weight and I GAIN IT instead!!! I thought "No wonder people don't stick to this torture"!
To ensure that I did just that, the sticking to it I mean, I signed myself up for some sessions with the personal trainer. Not the bouncy, energetic, 'let me see how much humiliation I can dole out today' trainer. No, I went for the calm, assertive, not so bouncy cheerleader type....mostly because he was a guy and I thought if I cried he would go easy on me!
Hiring that trainer was the best decision I ever made. It made me accountable, and forced me to learn about a healthy lifestyle. Now, those who know me know that I am not the type to just function through life off of someone Else's knowledge. I have to research and learn for myself. I have to know everything about everything before I pour my heart into a task. So that’s exactly what I began to do. Research. Research. Research. The knowledge that I gained about food, sugar, carbs, fats and calories was immeasurable. I had been doing it so wrong for so long.
Slowly, then very quickly, the weight began to melt away. Pound after Pound until nearly a year went by and I had lost over 55 of them. Not because I wanted to fit into a size 6. Not because I wanted to look better than the barbies in the gym. But because I loved my children, and had a zest for life that I could not obtain while wearing a size 18. I had to love myself enough to achieve my goals and the journey I had started was built on that, not on superficial gain. That reason alone is why it worked for me. We are not promised our next breath in life, but we can ensure that each breath we take in this life is a healthy one. I have felt better, been more energetic and less stressed from the moment I walked through the doors of the gym. That alone makes it worth it for me.
More than anything else I want to honor God who gave me this life by taking care of the body he provided me to live my life in. After YEARS of fad diets....DIET PILLS of EVERY kind.....low carb...no carb....the grapefruit and cabbage soup diets..Weight watchers..starving myself.....binging....and any other weight loss plan known to man, I realized that what I knew deep inside my heart the WHOLE time was exactly what would be the thing to work for me. I believe that if I focus on all that I have gained, then the loss will naturally follow. If you are doing what is right for your body then there is no way you can fail at this. It is a matter of learning the concepts and returning to lifestyles before fast foods and processed foods....life before hydrogenated oils and corn syrup. Life before 1 point weight watcher cookies that cause you to gain instead of lose.
What I have "GAINED" from this is so much more important to me than what I have "LOST". I have gained knowledge which has resulted in power. Power to overcome what I considered the biggest obstacle in my life. Weight.
Are you thirsty?
In that moment I vowed to do something I swore I’d never do again. I vowed to go to the gym. I had paid for several health club memberships over the years and the biggest workout I probably got out of them was when I wrote out the check each month for payment. It wasn’t fun for me because I didn’t see immediate results like I did with all the diet pills I’d taken throughout the years. But then something hit me….Being out of shape wasn’t fun either. It wasn’t fun for me, for my children or for my sweet husband, who, bless his heart, loved me just as much then as ever.
Now the first problem I encountered was that I had nothing to wear...tennis shoes were not in my vocabulary, but I just so happened to have a pair underneath my bed for occasions such as this. Gym shorts? Who wears those dreadful things? They do nothing for a figure, or lack of figure in my case...I guess if I had Jennifer Lopez's body, I'd look good in some gym shorts, but even hers have little Swarovski crystals down the side, at least they are fashionable. Well, I dug some of those up too, and of course they looked as bad as I imagined they would. My bright orange Amite Baptist Church T-ball tee shirt topped off the outfit. Now, the next thing I tell you will definitely be hard to believe, but I am telling you the honest truth. I had to stop at the Dollar Tree to get some Gym Socks. Yes, you read that right...this little southern diva had no need for socks as she doesn't intend on wearing tennis shoes! I had only bought a couple pair over the years, for wearing with boots or helping out with my kids ball teams.
So here I am...scanning my little key fob thingy at the entrance to Anytime fitness. I can see my best friend on an elliptical machine inside the window, who by the way exercises regularly. She's laughing. Probably because shes never seen me dressed like that and she knows how much I HATE it!! I did apply some fresh lip gloss before I got out of the car, and I was very thankful for that as I entered the dungeon of fit little barbies with no make up on whose butts definitely looked like they visit this place more than starbucks. At least my lips were shiny and sweet......that is until the sweat started dripping from them!
Within the first five minutes I was absolutely certain as to the reasons I had avoided these places over the years. Sweat. Men. Barbie Doll Bodies. Sweat. Pain. Sticky Hair. Red Cheeks. Shorts that crawl between your thighs. Personal trainers that get way too personal and have you making a fool of yourself in front of everyone. Oh and did I say, SWEAT! Seven minutes in and I am ready to bolt for the door. I had picked up a pair of headphones as a friend recommended and HgTv was playing on the big screen. Sell this house was not making me feel energetic enough to finish this 35 minute elliptical session I had keyed into the machine, so, I decided to try something else. Aha, there we go, Food Network! Now that's my channel. As I'm watching Rachel Ray whip up something tasty, it occurred to me that it might make me look extra fat and unhealthy to those around me if I were watching food network at that moment, so....I sucked in my tummy extra hard and searched the monitor for some music.
I landed on some dance music, now that made me wanna work out. Ten minutes in and its really burning, but I can do this with good music. Has anyone ever watched BET channel on tv? Well, you should check it out sometime, it will give you some insight to other cultures. At this point I’m thirteen minutes in as I look over at my friend and mouth “I cannot do this” to which she mouths back, “Yes you can”, to which I mouth back, “See, I can't be good at everything”, to which she just shakes her head. I can not be a quitter, is what I kept telling myself. My friends will never let me live it down if I get off this machine. “Focus on the rap music and pretend your in this video shaking your butt with all those girls“. Eighteen minutes in and I find myself realizing that maybe I can do this.
Twenty Four Minutes. Why on earth do people enjoy this? I liken it to being held down and fed flies. No, I take that back, eating flies would be easier than being on this machine. Oh, and I should add, every time you try to take a break or slow down...All Cap letters pop up on the screen, screaming at you to speed up....I feel like I'm back in 9th grade with my coach yelling “Faster Kiesha...those short legs can go faster than that!” I wanted to punch her, and I wanted to do the same to that darned machine!! By some small miracle I managed to finish the whole Thirty five minutes I’d programmed in, so, just for fun, and because the scale was by the weights that we were moving to next, I decided I'd step on the scale and see what my 35 minutes of hell had gotten me. Drumroll……NO WHERE!! It had gotten me two more lbs than my scale at home had!!!! Now, explain to me the fairness in that! I come to the gym because I want to lose weight and I GAIN IT instead!!! I thought "No wonder people don't stick to this torture"!
To ensure that I did just that, the sticking to it I mean, I signed myself up for some sessions with the personal trainer. Not the bouncy, energetic, 'let me see how much humiliation I can dole out today' trainer. No, I went for the calm, assertive, not so bouncy cheerleader type....mostly because he was a guy and I thought if I cried he would go easy on me!
Hiring that trainer was the best decision I ever made. It made me accountable, and forced me to learn about a healthy lifestyle. Now, those who know me know that I am not the type to just function through life off of someone Else's knowledge. I have to research and learn for myself. I have to know everything about everything before I pour my heart into a task. So that’s exactly what I began to do. Research. Research. Research. The knowledge that I gained about food, sugar, carbs, fats and calories was immeasurable. I had been doing it so wrong for so long.
Slowly, then very quickly, the weight began to melt away. Pound after Pound until nearly a year went by and I had lost over 55 of them. Not because I wanted to fit into a size 6. Not because I wanted to look better than the barbies in the gym. But because I loved my children, and had a zest for life that I could not obtain while wearing a size 18. I had to love myself enough to achieve my goals and the journey I had started was built on that, not on superficial gain. That reason alone is why it worked for me. We are not promised our next breath in life, but we can ensure that each breath we take in this life is a healthy one. I have felt better, been more energetic and less stressed from the moment I walked through the doors of the gym. That alone makes it worth it for me.
More than anything else I want to honor God who gave me this life by taking care of the body he provided me to live my life in. After YEARS of fad diets....DIET PILLS of EVERY kind.....low carb...no carb....the grapefruit and cabbage soup diets..Weight watchers..starving myself.....binging....and any other weight loss plan known to man, I realized that what I knew deep inside my heart the WHOLE time was exactly what would be the thing to work for me. I believe that if I focus on all that I have gained, then the loss will naturally follow. If you are doing what is right for your body then there is no way you can fail at this. It is a matter of learning the concepts and returning to lifestyles before fast foods and processed foods....life before hydrogenated oils and corn syrup. Life before 1 point weight watcher cookies that cause you to gain instead of lose.
What I have "GAINED" from this is so much more important to me than what I have "LOST". I have gained knowledge which has resulted in power. Power to overcome what I considered the biggest obstacle in my life. Weight.
Are you thirsty?
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The Story of "The Thirsty Mom"
Do you ever find yourself thirsty for more? If you answer "No" then you may as well stop reading now. If your answer is "No" then this blog is not for you. If your answer is "Yes" however, then I may have some great insights for you or at the very least a shoulder to lean on.....someone to feel your pain.
I'm a mom to three wonderful children. These children can ignite crazy mad love within the very core of my soul. They also ignite a fire that can drive me insane or at the very least into the back corner of a dark closet. I always wanted to be a mom. I can remember at 12 years of age overhearing a friend of my moms telling her she should watch me closely as a teenager because I loved children so much I may try to have one early. At 17 I met the love of my life......he was eleven years my senior and everything I wanted in a man. Scratch that.....he was handsome and nice and that's about all I knew at that time. However, I was in love nonetheless. I wanted to spend every waking moment in his arms and couldn't wait to get my senior year over with so that I could get married and live happily ever after. That is what all 17 year old girls want right? Well, that's what I thought. A true south Louisiana girl, I grew up wanting to be like my grandma and mom. College? Who needs college when you have this older man who makes lots of money and wants to take care of you? Well, that's the way I remember it anyway. Lots of money turned into very little to a 19 year old newlywed with these things called bills that she'd only heard her parents speak of in hushed tones.
After a 10 year whirlwind of a marriage, 3 miscarriages, 3 children and the death of my husbands mother I surely found myself wanting more. We were stuck. Caught in the web of the everyday monotony that so many couples find themselves in today. We fought over the silliest of things and the crazy wild love I'd felt at 19 soon turned into bitterness. I was doing the "stay at home mom" thing which mostly included "staying at walmart or the mall" and neglecting the things that needed to be done during the day before kids get home from school. He was working for himself trying to make a business survive in an economy that was slowly rolling downhill. On a night I like to call "as bad as it gets" we had a decision to make. Get in or Get out. We no longer wanted to fight about who forgot to close the bag of chips or who was washing the dishes, or who invested more time in the kids......we were done fighting. I was exhausted.
After "as bad as it gets" calmed down....my home was very quiet. I took a long hot bath, still crying and stepped out to face myself in the bathroom mirror. After wiping away the steam I took a long hard look into that mirror. As crazy as this may sound, that bathroom mirror changed my life. It was a typical steamy Louisiana night in early July and as I gazed into that mirror at the child looking back at this woman, I asked myself one simple question.
"If it never gets any better than it is right now.....is this how you want to feel in 20 years?"
You see, its easy to say things are bad but they will get better. Its easy to say to yourself, we are just caught up in life, bills, money problems, family issues or whatever else it is you are battling....its easy to say "Next year will be better", "Next year we will have more money....more time....happier children....etc..." But what if next year its not better? Can you live with that? I couldn't. Let me just say, I wouldn't.
After that fateful night and my fateful question I then began to ponder my life as I knew it. What had I done that landed me where I was? I had to go back to the start....back to my senior year and this man I believed God had surely placed in my life. Did I love him? Yes. Did I love myself? I presumed to love the version of myself I'd created for the world to see, sure.....But "Who was I anyway?" A mom. A wife. A friend. These were all I could come up with but there was one problem. These are the things I was to everyone else. Who was I to ME? And more so, who was I to God? This began my quest to discover the meaning of my life, not the meaning of life..but the meaning of MY life.
Over the last three years something phenomenal has happened. I'd like to call it a miracle. I have started to discover myself in ways that I only dreamed possible. The confidence I faked for so long is now genuine and real. The unhappy marriage is now a happy one. The unorganized chaotic home is now on its way to becoming a place that a child would want to grow up in. And the answer that I was looking for all along was literally right in front of me the whole time. The answer stared me in the face every morning when I brushed my teeth, and at night when I stepped out of the shower......yep, every single time I peered into that bathroom mirror the answer was staring back at me. Peaking into the depths of my being and begging the question.....Are you happy? Truly happy? The answer my friends was ME.
When I thought of all the things that had gotten me to this place in my life, something occurred to me. If I wanted an opposite life, attitude, husband, children.......an opposite me......then I had to do the OPPOSITE of everything I'd done that landed me here. So I started, slowly at first, to undo all that I had done. Instead of complaining about who was going to wash the dishes, I did them myself. Instead of begging him to help me with bathing our children.....I did it myself. Instead of asking him repeatedly why he had to go to home depot after work instead of coming home, I said "Alright darlin', see ya soon". Instead of going to bed and scooting as far as I could to the other side because I was determined not to give myself to a man who I felt wasn't giving himself to me, I drew near to the warmth of his body. And do you know something? It felt fantastic.....I had been punishing myself for so long. So instead of doing what society had taught me to do, instead of trying to "teach my man a lesson." I did the opposite. Do you know why? Because I realized something.....all those women on the talk shows, and all those women in my life, the ones who said "Girl, don't be a doormat! You gotta whip that man into shape." Those women were unhappy, and bitter. Logic told me that I didn't want to be one of those women.
So you are thinking to yourselves now.....I know I can almost hear you....you are thinking to yourself, "I am not going to just do it all and allow him to do nothing. So if that's what you are suggesting, forget it." I want to be very clear about this. A funny thing happened when I started to change.....and therein lies the miracle. He changed. Yes girls, you heard me right.
He C-H-A-N-G-E-D. He was so very humbled by my attitude and actions, that he wanted to love me with his own actions. He started asking if I needed help with more things in the evenings. I noticed that I didn't need to ask so often anymore, I found he just began doing tasks that needed doing. You see, Love is not just a feeling, its an ACTION. You show it more than you say it. What do your actions say? Now I'm not saying this works in every case but I am saying this...."What have you got to lose?"
A dear friend taught me this, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different reaction. Do you feel insane at times? Are you thirsty for more?
I'm a mom to three wonderful children. These children can ignite crazy mad love within the very core of my soul. They also ignite a fire that can drive me insane or at the very least into the back corner of a dark closet. I always wanted to be a mom. I can remember at 12 years of age overhearing a friend of my moms telling her she should watch me closely as a teenager because I loved children so much I may try to have one early. At 17 I met the love of my life......he was eleven years my senior and everything I wanted in a man. Scratch that.....he was handsome and nice and that's about all I knew at that time. However, I was in love nonetheless. I wanted to spend every waking moment in his arms and couldn't wait to get my senior year over with so that I could get married and live happily ever after. That is what all 17 year old girls want right? Well, that's what I thought. A true south Louisiana girl, I grew up wanting to be like my grandma and mom. College? Who needs college when you have this older man who makes lots of money and wants to take care of you? Well, that's the way I remember it anyway. Lots of money turned into very little to a 19 year old newlywed with these things called bills that she'd only heard her parents speak of in hushed tones.
After a 10 year whirlwind of a marriage, 3 miscarriages, 3 children and the death of my husbands mother I surely found myself wanting more. We were stuck. Caught in the web of the everyday monotony that so many couples find themselves in today. We fought over the silliest of things and the crazy wild love I'd felt at 19 soon turned into bitterness. I was doing the "stay at home mom" thing which mostly included "staying at walmart or the mall" and neglecting the things that needed to be done during the day before kids get home from school. He was working for himself trying to make a business survive in an economy that was slowly rolling downhill. On a night I like to call "as bad as it gets" we had a decision to make. Get in or Get out. We no longer wanted to fight about who forgot to close the bag of chips or who was washing the dishes, or who invested more time in the kids......we were done fighting. I was exhausted.
After "as bad as it gets" calmed down....my home was very quiet. I took a long hot bath, still crying and stepped out to face myself in the bathroom mirror. After wiping away the steam I took a long hard look into that mirror. As crazy as this may sound, that bathroom mirror changed my life. It was a typical steamy Louisiana night in early July and as I gazed into that mirror at the child looking back at this woman, I asked myself one simple question.
"If it never gets any better than it is right now.....is this how you want to feel in 20 years?"
You see, its easy to say things are bad but they will get better. Its easy to say to yourself, we are just caught up in life, bills, money problems, family issues or whatever else it is you are battling....its easy to say "Next year will be better", "Next year we will have more money....more time....happier children....etc..." But what if next year its not better? Can you live with that? I couldn't. Let me just say, I wouldn't.
After that fateful night and my fateful question I then began to ponder my life as I knew it. What had I done that landed me where I was? I had to go back to the start....back to my senior year and this man I believed God had surely placed in my life. Did I love him? Yes. Did I love myself? I presumed to love the version of myself I'd created for the world to see, sure.....But "Who was I anyway?" A mom. A wife. A friend. These were all I could come up with but there was one problem. These are the things I was to everyone else. Who was I to ME? And more so, who was I to God? This began my quest to discover the meaning of my life, not the meaning of life..but the meaning of MY life.
Over the last three years something phenomenal has happened. I'd like to call it a miracle. I have started to discover myself in ways that I only dreamed possible. The confidence I faked for so long is now genuine and real. The unhappy marriage is now a happy one. The unorganized chaotic home is now on its way to becoming a place that a child would want to grow up in. And the answer that I was looking for all along was literally right in front of me the whole time. The answer stared me in the face every morning when I brushed my teeth, and at night when I stepped out of the shower......yep, every single time I peered into that bathroom mirror the answer was staring back at me. Peaking into the depths of my being and begging the question.....Are you happy? Truly happy? The answer my friends was ME.
When I thought of all the things that had gotten me to this place in my life, something occurred to me. If I wanted an opposite life, attitude, husband, children.......an opposite me......then I had to do the OPPOSITE of everything I'd done that landed me here. So I started, slowly at first, to undo all that I had done. Instead of complaining about who was going to wash the dishes, I did them myself. Instead of begging him to help me with bathing our children.....I did it myself. Instead of asking him repeatedly why he had to go to home depot after work instead of coming home, I said "Alright darlin', see ya soon". Instead of going to bed and scooting as far as I could to the other side because I was determined not to give myself to a man who I felt wasn't giving himself to me, I drew near to the warmth of his body. And do you know something? It felt fantastic.....I had been punishing myself for so long. So instead of doing what society had taught me to do, instead of trying to "teach my man a lesson." I did the opposite. Do you know why? Because I realized something.....all those women on the talk shows, and all those women in my life, the ones who said "Girl, don't be a doormat! You gotta whip that man into shape." Those women were unhappy, and bitter. Logic told me that I didn't want to be one of those women.
So you are thinking to yourselves now.....I know I can almost hear you....you are thinking to yourself, "I am not going to just do it all and allow him to do nothing. So if that's what you are suggesting, forget it." I want to be very clear about this. A funny thing happened when I started to change.....and therein lies the miracle. He changed. Yes girls, you heard me right.
He C-H-A-N-G-E-D. He was so very humbled by my attitude and actions, that he wanted to love me with his own actions. He started asking if I needed help with more things in the evenings. I noticed that I didn't need to ask so often anymore, I found he just began doing tasks that needed doing. You see, Love is not just a feeling, its an ACTION. You show it more than you say it. What do your actions say? Now I'm not saying this works in every case but I am saying this...."What have you got to lose?"
A dear friend taught me this, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different reaction. Do you feel insane at times? Are you thirsty for more?
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