It is an awesome thing to realise that even at my age, it is possible to discover talents within that have not really been recognised.
I recently did a week-end workshop with an artist, and I was able to cultivate my artistic talents a great deal. This is the second workshop I have done, and I must say it was great to come away feeling like I had talent!
Have you ever felt like one day of your life just blends into the next? That you wake up, hit the alarm clock, go about your day, go to bed, and repeat the routine over and over again without a sense of purpose or definition?
I've never had depression, but I have definitely felt the "hum drum" feeling of a repetitious life without highlights. When one day blends into the next, it does little to make one feel like there is a purpose to your existence.
Picasso I'm not. I'm not even a close to Warhol and his Campbell's Soup painting.
Its the same way that when I sing I'm not Adele or Bette Midler...
but...
Having the guts to get out there and try - that's what really counts.
I may never have a piece hanging in a gallery, or a song on the top-10 charts, but as long as I pursue my talents and interests then I am guaranteed a life that will end up to be a little less hum-drum and a lot more pleasing than not.
I've always had a healthy amount of self-confidence in some ways. I wonder sometimes if I had to develop that approach to combat my own self-defeating approach based on my size.
It makes me wonder also if I successfully become "gutless", will I still have "guts"?
I hope that whatever the future has in store for me- I will be able to navigate it with the same (if not better) confidence and talents.
Get out there and find something that you are interested in but don't think that you could do. You really won't know that you can't do it unless you try it. I have a feeling that there might be skeletons in most of our closets that are based on things we think we can't do, but they are really things that we just haven't had the guts to try...
Maybe you will realise that you CAN hum, you CAN drum, you CAN cook, you CAN draw, or that you can do something that you've always wanted to do.
I've got plenty of "guts" to go around if you need some...
Sunday 22 April 2012
Saturday 21 April 2012
WANTED: 1 stork
Yup, it's stork season.
Not for me dear reader, but honestly (and I'm not trying to sound like the Princess of Pity here even though I admit I have my lower lip fully engaged in pout-mode) every female around me seems to be preggers.
Ok, so not every female around me is with child, but let me put it to you this way... anyone over 15 and under 50 seems to be pregnant.
Obviously that can't be true. But you know what it's like when you buy a new car? For example, if you bought a new red honda civic, all you would likely notice on the road are red honda civics.
Well honestly I have not bought a baby, but all I see are pregnant ladies. And babies. And strollers. And pacifiers. And yes, even diapers.
I'm not sure if this is a mind-over-matter thing, or if my body is screaming at me to get to work. Either way, it is leaving me with nothing but a deep longing in my heart and a pout on my face.
The business of baby-making is at least fun to try. Although it can be frustrating to no end.
For now I'm left to soothe myself by doing things that I love to do in my spare time. I have the honor of painting a mural in my friend's nursery, and I can't wait to start that project. I also have a baby shower coming up - and I love showers. I've already asked the hostess if she would consider handing out babies as the prizes, but no-go.
Thank God for the dog. While I've learned that she absolutely detests being dressed up (yes, she has a selection of sweaters and sadly I tried to put a frock on her once...), she is quite a sook and a wonderful companion, and she tolerates my baby language. I also tend to try to avoid stressing out my husband by talking about my baby clock, so she makes for a good audience. As long as I give her a nice bone to chew on, she'll listen to anything I have to say. That beats wearing a frock any day.
Sooo... I'm off to the mall today, where I'm sure to see legions of infants and kids. One thing I hate to see are the parents dragging along a child who look exasperated... if only they knew how much I'd give to trade places and have to deal with a whining, screaming child. Don't get me wrong: I do know that having a child is not all Anne Geddes or Mary Poppins moments, and that parenting requires people to walk the line between "oh my god I just turned into my mother", and being scared shitless.
I just long to be there. Bring me your dirty diapers, colic, and screaming temper tantrums, and I'll give you anything I have.
Do me a favor. If you are lucky enough to have a child, make sure you hug them today for me.
And for the love of God, if you see the stork.... send him my way.
Not for me dear reader, but honestly (and I'm not trying to sound like the Princess of Pity here even though I admit I have my lower lip fully engaged in pout-mode) every female around me seems to be preggers.
Ok, so not every female around me is with child, but let me put it to you this way... anyone over 15 and under 50 seems to be pregnant.
Obviously that can't be true. But you know what it's like when you buy a new car? For example, if you bought a new red honda civic, all you would likely notice on the road are red honda civics.
Well honestly I have not bought a baby, but all I see are pregnant ladies. And babies. And strollers. And pacifiers. And yes, even diapers.
I'm not sure if this is a mind-over-matter thing, or if my body is screaming at me to get to work. Either way, it is leaving me with nothing but a deep longing in my heart and a pout on my face.
The business of baby-making is at least fun to try. Although it can be frustrating to no end.
For now I'm left to soothe myself by doing things that I love to do in my spare time. I have the honor of painting a mural in my friend's nursery, and I can't wait to start that project. I also have a baby shower coming up - and I love showers. I've already asked the hostess if she would consider handing out babies as the prizes, but no-go.
Thank God for the dog. While I've learned that she absolutely detests being dressed up (yes, she has a selection of sweaters and sadly I tried to put a frock on her once...), she is quite a sook and a wonderful companion, and she tolerates my baby language. I also tend to try to avoid stressing out my husband by talking about my baby clock, so she makes for a good audience. As long as I give her a nice bone to chew on, she'll listen to anything I have to say. That beats wearing a frock any day.
Sooo... I'm off to the mall today, where I'm sure to see legions of infants and kids. One thing I hate to see are the parents dragging along a child who look exasperated... if only they knew how much I'd give to trade places and have to deal with a whining, screaming child. Don't get me wrong: I do know that having a child is not all Anne Geddes or Mary Poppins moments, and that parenting requires people to walk the line between "oh my god I just turned into my mother", and being scared shitless.
I just long to be there. Bring me your dirty diapers, colic, and screaming temper tantrums, and I'll give you anything I have.
Do me a favor. If you are lucky enough to have a child, make sure you hug them today for me.
And for the love of God, if you see the stork.... send him my way.
Monday 16 April 2012
Then along came a psychic...
Isn't it ironic just when you think you have a clear vision of where you are heading, life throws a few curves your way and totally muddles up whatever thoughts you had of where you were supposedly heading?
I want a baby. I also want to shed the mantle of morbid obesity.
I'm 39.4 freakin' years old, and have NO idea which of these will come first.
Who can blame me for wanting a little guidance? I'm an analytical person, and I admit that I tend to dive head-first into all sorts of academia and information about any given topic when researching a new concept or idea. (Can you see yet where this is heading? Hold on.... I'll get you there I promise...)
Sooooo... re the baby thing: I launched myself fully and completely at the world wide web. Joined sites such as babycenter and groups such as "BBW and TTC". If you aren't sure about those acronyms, first of all take a moment and thank your creator out loud. (BBW = big beautiful women, a common acronym for us svelte female types, and TTC = trying to conceive). Within a fortnight I had amassed all of the information anyone could possibly absorb about the virtues of the reproductive system and exactly how mathematical and precise the business of getting one's self knocked up IS. (And, in case you didn't know, the statistical probability of getting pregnant is not exactly as simple as doing the horizontal mambo on every second or third night... please don't make me go further into detail here, let's face it we would BOTH regret it, and I tend to prefer not to venture into the whole TMI territory if it can at all be avoided). My point? I quickly mapped out a system whereby I suddenly was tracking temperature, ovulation, and other bodily functions that still make me blush. I downloaded 2 apps and stopped when I found myself searching for a 3rd version of the same.
Add to all of this analysis the issue of my weight.
I investigated options, and then launched myself also fully and completely into the realm of information that exists about this gastric bypass surgery. Yada yada yada... its complicated but at least I don't have to worry about charting my basal temp. Insert half-hearted laugh.
Soooo back to my story. Given that it is a known fact that I am an information hound and tend to dig up whatever I can... is it any wonder that I'd go from the internet to support groups to specialists to whomever I could think of for guidance short of a priest?
That, my friends, is how I ended up at a psychic.
To make a long story short (which come to think of it - one day, I'll probably tell the whole story anyhow but in the interest of time and my awaiting bubble bath, I'm going to keep this to the shorter one), here's the coles notes version of the information he presented to me * without me having even asked a single question*:
So I've been wondering about life in general you see. It's true, my Nanny was a large lady (not nearly as large as I, but large nonetheless). She had 8 kids and a whole bunch of miscarriages. She loved me to bits, and I her.
Would she really be pissed at me? Would she encourage me to ignore my health? Could it be possible that she really did send some sort of message from beyond to try to convince me to keep on keeping on and to banish the thought of intervening with my body???
Nah.
Nan, if you're reading this, I'm sorry that I may have offended you. You were (are?) a beautiful person with a beautiful spirit (which seems to be lingering...). I'm also sorry that it took me 39 years to get my head screwed on straight enough to be in a position to actually try to conceive.... but here I am. I want kids, but I also want a life... and in order to live that life I'm going to need to focus on my health and my body. No disrespect at all intended, but I gotta get this done. I loved (love?) you every minute of every day, and I could only wish that you might be around to see my alleged offspring (although according to the psychic/medium dude, you seem to be hanging out around me anyhow, which honestly is freaking me out just a bit... any chance you can go sit on the shoulder of one of my cousins who actually has her shit together??)
[exit stage right - the bubble bath awaits]
I want a baby. I also want to shed the mantle of morbid obesity.
I'm 39.4 freakin' years old, and have NO idea which of these will come first.
Who can blame me for wanting a little guidance? I'm an analytical person, and I admit that I tend to dive head-first into all sorts of academia and information about any given topic when researching a new concept or idea. (Can you see yet where this is heading? Hold on.... I'll get you there I promise...)
Sooooo... re the baby thing: I launched myself fully and completely at the world wide web. Joined sites such as babycenter and groups such as "BBW and TTC". If you aren't sure about those acronyms, first of all take a moment and thank your creator out loud. (BBW = big beautiful women, a common acronym for us svelte female types, and TTC = trying to conceive). Within a fortnight I had amassed all of the information anyone could possibly absorb about the virtues of the reproductive system and exactly how mathematical and precise the business of getting one's self knocked up IS. (And, in case you didn't know, the statistical probability of getting pregnant is not exactly as simple as doing the horizontal mambo on every second or third night... please don't make me go further into detail here, let's face it we would BOTH regret it, and I tend to prefer not to venture into the whole TMI territory if it can at all be avoided). My point? I quickly mapped out a system whereby I suddenly was tracking temperature, ovulation, and other bodily functions that still make me blush. I downloaded 2 apps and stopped when I found myself searching for a 3rd version of the same.
Add to all of this analysis the issue of my weight.
I investigated options, and then launched myself also fully and completely into the realm of information that exists about this gastric bypass surgery. Yada yada yada... its complicated but at least I don't have to worry about charting my basal temp. Insert half-hearted laugh.
Soooo back to my story. Given that it is a known fact that I am an information hound and tend to dig up whatever I can... is it any wonder that I'd go from the internet to support groups to specialists to whomever I could think of for guidance short of a priest?
That, my friends, is how I ended up at a psychic.
To make a long story short (which come to think of it - one day, I'll probably tell the whole story anyhow but in the interest of time and my awaiting bubble bath, I'm going to keep this to the shorter one), here's the coles notes version of the information he presented to me * without me having even asked a single question*:
- Your size is pre-determined before you are conceived.
- The invitation for family and babies is all around me.
- My dearly departed grandmother (also a big-boned lady) is frankly pissed because I'm even thinking about losing weight - she wants me to be with child ASAP.
- As if number 3 wasn't weird enough, the cards say surgery won't happen.
- I'll miscarry my first child, a boy, because I can't carry boys.
- I'll have 2 girls close together but my parents will die before they are born.
So I've been wondering about life in general you see. It's true, my Nanny was a large lady (not nearly as large as I, but large nonetheless). She had 8 kids and a whole bunch of miscarriages. She loved me to bits, and I her.
Would she really be pissed at me? Would she encourage me to ignore my health? Could it be possible that she really did send some sort of message from beyond to try to convince me to keep on keeping on and to banish the thought of intervening with my body???
Nah.
Nan, if you're reading this, I'm sorry that I may have offended you. You were (are?) a beautiful person with a beautiful spirit (which seems to be lingering...). I'm also sorry that it took me 39 years to get my head screwed on straight enough to be in a position to actually try to conceive.... but here I am. I want kids, but I also want a life... and in order to live that life I'm going to need to focus on my health and my body. No disrespect at all intended, but I gotta get this done. I loved (love?) you every minute of every day, and I could only wish that you might be around to see my alleged offspring (although according to the psychic/medium dude, you seem to be hanging out around me anyhow, which honestly is freaking me out just a bit... any chance you can go sit on the shoulder of one of my cousins who actually has her shit together??)
[exit stage right - the bubble bath awaits]
Friday 6 April 2012
Taking Flight
I'm back from a wonderful vacation down south! I shopped 'til I almost dropped, and even though I had vowed out loud to NOT buy too much clothes given that I'm trying my best to shrink... the cheap clearance prices got the better of me and I ended up getting a "few" things. But like I said to my dear Hubby, when you see awesome boots on sale that happen to be your size (10W) that were originally $79.95 but reduced to $9.99, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do...
I remained mindful of nutritional needs, and also kept control of my old nemesis; mindless snacking. I made sure to have at least one protein smoothie a day, which helped me curb the desire to graze like a happy bovine in a green field. I felt good, and for the first time ever... I enjoyed the heat to the point where I came home with a tan.
There was one small glitch. I travelled down south with my parents, which allowed me to have wonderful seat-mates. I had managed to push aside my fears of an irate seat-mate on the return flights until a few days prior to my departure...
First of all, let me set the record straight. I completely understand the displeasure that it would cause to sit next to someone who is spilling over into the next seat. I get it. It's not pretty, and would make for a pretty darned uncomfortable flight. However... I took any and all precautions possible to avoid inconveniencing someone else. I called the airline 3 days prior to departure and asked if there were any empty seats. Nope. Then I asked if I might be able to sit next to a child. Nope - and I'm lucky I explained my way off of the "this lady is a perv do-not-fly list". Once I informed the kind lady that I spoke to (who was clearly working in an over-seas call center) that I was a person of size, she reminded me that the policy with this particular airline is that if you "only" need one seatbelt extender and not two, you need not buy another seat. Any chance of changing flights to ones less crowded? Nope.
So... I did what any sensible person would do. I upgraded to first class, and saved both a small fortune with my luggage fees and also my humility as I fit quite well into the 23 inch leather seat, and was a comfortable and polite distance away from the business man who shared my row. No, I didn't find the money tree in Florida... I merely lucked into a very helpful gate agent who pointed out that anyone could upgrade if it was available. First class was lovely and spacious... and I didn't even take advantage of the free (alcoholic) beverages because even I had better sense than to push my luck with an airplane washroom...
Now I am settled back into my home and the routine that comes with it, and yet I find myself thinking of the bends and turns that I've been on so far with this weight-loss journey. In preparing for surgery I am merely once again preparing to take flight, and taking whatever precautions I can do to make sure it is a pleasant one.
I have been lucky enough to have travelled a fair bit and seen a few corners of parts of the world, even though I have always been overweight.
I am truly looking forward to future travels when I hopefully won't have to worry about causing discomfort to a fellow traveller or to myself.
Spreading my wings has been easy... I'm just looking forward to carrying a lighter load with me as I fly!
I remained mindful of nutritional needs, and also kept control of my old nemesis; mindless snacking. I made sure to have at least one protein smoothie a day, which helped me curb the desire to graze like a happy bovine in a green field. I felt good, and for the first time ever... I enjoyed the heat to the point where I came home with a tan.
There was one small glitch. I travelled down south with my parents, which allowed me to have wonderful seat-mates. I had managed to push aside my fears of an irate seat-mate on the return flights until a few days prior to my departure...
First of all, let me set the record straight. I completely understand the displeasure that it would cause to sit next to someone who is spilling over into the next seat. I get it. It's not pretty, and would make for a pretty darned uncomfortable flight. However... I took any and all precautions possible to avoid inconveniencing someone else. I called the airline 3 days prior to departure and asked if there were any empty seats. Nope. Then I asked if I might be able to sit next to a child. Nope - and I'm lucky I explained my way off of the "this lady is a perv do-not-fly list". Once I informed the kind lady that I spoke to (who was clearly working in an over-seas call center) that I was a person of size, she reminded me that the policy with this particular airline is that if you "only" need one seatbelt extender and not two, you need not buy another seat. Any chance of changing flights to ones less crowded? Nope.
So... I did what any sensible person would do. I upgraded to first class, and saved both a small fortune with my luggage fees and also my humility as I fit quite well into the 23 inch leather seat, and was a comfortable and polite distance away from the business man who shared my row. No, I didn't find the money tree in Florida... I merely lucked into a very helpful gate agent who pointed out that anyone could upgrade if it was available. First class was lovely and spacious... and I didn't even take advantage of the free (alcoholic) beverages because even I had better sense than to push my luck with an airplane washroom...
Now I am settled back into my home and the routine that comes with it, and yet I find myself thinking of the bends and turns that I've been on so far with this weight-loss journey. In preparing for surgery I am merely once again preparing to take flight, and taking whatever precautions I can do to make sure it is a pleasant one.
I have been lucky enough to have travelled a fair bit and seen a few corners of parts of the world, even though I have always been overweight.
I am truly looking forward to future travels when I hopefully won't have to worry about causing discomfort to a fellow traveller or to myself.
Spreading my wings has been easy... I'm just looking forward to carrying a lighter load with me as I fly!
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