Change

Never give up on a dream just because of the time it will take to accomplish it.  The time will pass anyway.

My audience is purely imagined, so I guess I can talk about this here...

I'm not the fat girl anymore.

I mean, I am, but for the first time in my life, I'm not letting myself be the fat girl.

This is something I don't talk about, so, if for some reason you are a real person reading this, and you are a real person who knows me in real life, please reach out to me via email/text or any other sort of written communication. I am struck dumb when someone wants me to vocalize things about weight, working out, body image, etc., but writing is far easier.

After at least 20 years of struggling with my weight, I am making headway for the first time. Do I expect this to be easy? No. But, not much is easy. Am I bitter about people who can eat like I did and maintain a much smaller waistline? Incredibly.
But I wouldn't change my story.
This was my lot in life for a reason. Right now it sucks, and I anticipate it sucking for a long time, but that's okay.

A month ago I started a challenge where I worked out and drank Shakeology and did all of these challenges every day, and in doing it (and only feeling like I half-assed the whole month) I lost 12 pounds.
These were not my first 12 pounds ever, I was not at my high weight beforehand, but it was crazy what a month of eating like a healthy person did to me.

A while ago I came to this revelation that I'm done with this "fat girl" phase of life. It was actually New Year's Eve 2010, and that was when I was at my high weight.
I fluctuate between 20 and 40 pounds less than I was at that high weight, and that was over three years ago, but that was when I realized that I'm not going back.
And today is the day I decide to talk about it.

The thought of someone I know reading this sends me into a panic, but I need to write about this... This is one of the most important journeys I will ever take, and I need to share it.
I'm an introvert by nature, but I know that I need to share this extremely private part of my life with others... I don't know why, I just do.

So... That is the preface to my story.

And here is my before and after picture from the challenge.

Bummer

I was just like, "make a blog, yo"
and then I was like, "okay",
then my computer was like, "16% battery, yo".

Womp, womp.

Also: Moar pictures!

Zoe the dog... She crazy, but adorable.

So you want to be a writer? Or at least a blogger...

Oh my.
It's been almost a year since I've updated my reader-less blog.

I keep being encouraged to write, because-- when I put my mind to it, I'm a pretty alright writer.
Okay, I'm a pain-free writer. Unless I'm talking about something awkward, people can usually digest my words pretty easily.
I'm like oatmeal... Pale, mushy, relatively odorless... Wait... Those are just physical ways I resemble oatmeal...
And oatmeal makes my tummy hurt.
My writing is like... I don't know. Imagine something you enjoy eating that doesn't usually affect your IBS. I'm like that.

I've decided to go the blog-route as opposed to the journal route for many reasons. If I'm writing for an audience (even if that audience is only perceived) my writing is better. My journals are sad diatribes about my weight, sprinkled with one-line sentences about what is going on in my life, aside from being overweight.
When I die, I don't think I want anyone to read my journals. They are too sad and boring for another person to endure. Although, lately I've been trying to be more encouraging to myself... But my encouragement is surely just as sad.

I also feel like writing more, because (imaginary blog readers: don't laugh) I kinda want to be a writer. Unfortunately, though, I don't think I could ever write a book (a fiction one anyway) because I don't like reading fiction. I like reading essays and memoirs. Preferably funny ones.
Am I secretly comparing myself to the likes of David Sedaris, Anne Lamott, and Mary Roach? Well, maybe.
Kind of like how you imagine what it will be like when Ellen has you on your show, or when you (finally) get that reality show.
I am definitely a better writer than Chelsea Handler, though, so... go me.

Could you imagine if you had a reality show? How awful would that show be? I mean, seriously. Mine would be incredibly boring. I'm just siting on the couch blogging in a dark living room. And the producers would have all of these ideas like, "go to a club!" or "climb a mountain!". But I'd be all like, "no". So it would be 20 minutes (13 if it airs on MTV) of me making cat noises, yelling angrily at inanimate objects, and playing Candy Crush. And the footage would inevitably reveal my habit of leaving empty Diet Coke bottles on the floor of my room, and my lack of motivation to ever put my pants in the hamper.
Sorry guys. I didn't mean for this blog to get to depressing so quickly.

And here's a picture, because I realize that people only like to read blogs with pictures.

Pictured: My cat and my face. My cat suffers from BRF (bitchy resting face) so she looks way less excited than she actually was. And I generally look more insane than I did in that picture. What can I say? It was a good day for me face-wise.

I freaking love Jesus.

Okay, maybe it's not a surprise, I am a Christian.
One with serious flaws.
I promise with my whole heart that I'm not judging you or your life choices (unless you're parading around like a Christian but being a terrible person... Then I get a little judge-y... Hey-I'm only human). I don't think I'm better than you, I don't want to fight with you, I know what I believe, and I'm not ashamed of it. I have very good friends that are atheists whom I love and respect very much.
Anyway, my whole point of saying that was just kind of a disclaimer, because I'm about to geek out.

Do you ever get so excited about something that you can't sleep?
It happens to me so often. Sleep has become somewhat of a rarity because I've been getting so excited about things.
Lately, I've been totally excited and unable to sleep because I HAVE to keep watching episodes of Oddities.

But, that's not what I'm excited about tonight.
Tonight (for approximately the 8th time in my life) I'm so incredibly excited about Jesus.
It's so random I decided I had to blog about it.
During church, the only thing I remember is pastor Mike talking about The Lion King, but then once I got into membership class (that might sound crazy... It's not cult-ish at all... It's just a class that potential members of the church take to make sure that the church's theology seems to line up with their own personal theology... I mean, I don't want to join a church and then realize that they believe the only way to heaven is through consuming raw eggs every day) it's like, my brain kind of turned on. Pastor Mike (who also happened to be teaching the class this week-purely coincidental) was talking about reading the bible as being something totally compulsory at times. It made me get to thinking... There was a time in my life that I read the bible 500 days in a row. I'm sure that 99% of those times were compulsory, actually, I know so. I only read one chapter a night, I did not read the whole Bible, but I was following a plan. Almost every night I basically thanked God that I was able to get through another chapter. If the chapter was a long one that took more than 5 minutes to read, I would almost certainly become annoyed.
But then I realized in class that I wasn't even doing that anymore. It's not that I'm bored with the word, or God, I just haven't been doing much.
I don't feel like I'm avoiding God, or annoyed or anything- I guess I've just been unintentionally negligent.
I don't mean to say that my random fervor is coming down to me trying to make up for lost time-that's totally inaccurate. What I do mean to say is that I am excited, and it's keeping me from sleep.

I never used to get excited about reading the bible (don't get me wrong, it's still shamefully rare). I think I spent close to 3 solid years of just drudging about, barely studying/reading anything, and never getting excited about learning more about God. But now that I do read/study more, and now that I've stopped (you know, as well as I can) trying to do things on my own accord and with my own strength, I've found that I'm more likely to become randomly jittery and excited just because I am so thankful that God chose me to be one of his children.

Okay, I've purged my excitement out of my system.

Shout-out to Pastor Mike

 

boop

(totally googled this man, and I'm using this picture without the consent of anyone, because that's how the internet works)

Also, shout-out to Knox Presbyterian Church.

The End.

Pin-tastic

Week 2
Domestic goddess

If you don't live on a boat, you probably know that Pinterest has taken over the world.
I know Pinterest causes great schisms among friends on social media sites, but I would like you to know that I really do like Pinterest.
Most of my pins are for crafty-things with the children I watch, or for homemade cleaning products. I secretly love most of the hair pins that show up on my... newsfeed (I don't know what to call that, so I'll stick with newsfeed)? and even though I have very lovely, and very long hair- I have differently-abled fingers that can't do my own hair, so I refrain from re-pinning most of those.

Anyway, the point of me writing this is to tell you of my first Pinterest fail.

Today our house was freezing cold, and I was sitting on the couch, ready to nap, but one of the cats was on the blanket, so I decided to visit my good friend, Pinterest (let's not talk about how I didn't move the cat... I know, I'm not the person I used to be).

Right away, I found this tip for a house deodorizer, I was stoked. Mind you, our house is not smelly, but I always like when the house smells like baked goods. It was simple. Pour a cap-full of vanilla extract into a coffee mug and put it in the oven for 10 minutes. When all is said and done, your house should smell like angel whispers.
Of course I was skeptical, but as I had stated earlier-our house is freezing, and turning the oven on had the potential to help, if only momentarily.
Dude... Don't do it. I mean, yeah... Our kitchen kind of smells like vanilla now. But you know what else it smells like? Crusty oven. We don't even have a bad smelling crusty oven, but if you're just going to heat up a drop of vanilla in an oven that is used nearly every single day in hopes of it making your house smell like a fresh batch of cookies... It's not going to work.
 (Also, in case anyone is worried about me using Shaun's expensive Penzey's vanilla-I didn't. I used some "sweatshop" vanilla from my old apartment.)

I wouldn't say that this was a drastic fail or anything... Not even something blog-worthy, necessarily- I just wanted to alert the masses.

I like writing.
I like photography.
I'm good at writing.
I own a camera.
I don't write enough.
I don't take enough pictures.
I think I'm going to try something... I want writing to be involved. So, I think I'm going to come up with a list of 52 different things and challenge myself to writing about a picture I took that involves that theme. Or maybe just add a picture :-) I haven't decided yet. I've been mulling this over for a while, but this is the first I've started to jot down what I'm thinking. P.S. Don't be surprised if you stumble upon this in 2023 and I have zero weeks done. I like making plans, but I exhaust myself after planning, so nothing ever comes to fruition. I'm more of a thinker than a do-er.

 Week 1: Happiness

Today I noticed these three little Fisher Price people hanging out in our Temple Mount puzzle. So much of this makes me happy. My roommates and their cousin's assembled this 300-some piece model of the second temple (second, right? I might be mistaken) on Christmas this past year. This model makes me happy, because I didn't participate in it at all, I don't think I've ever even touched this masterpiece. I love puzzles, but this was more of a mini architectural undertaking. I'm sure I have the capacity to assemble something like this, but I am sure that I don't have the desire. I'm also sure that I'm a really bad team player, and this was a family undertaking.

This picture also makes me happy because of the three little people. First of all, I have fond memories of those little guys. I'm not sure if I ever actually owned any of those little people (and by "owned" I mean, my mother bought them for my brother a decade earlier, and wiped the dust off of them for me when I came around) but I remember playing with them at our cottage. We had little Fisher Price boats (I'm pretty sure they are still there) and I just remember having a blast, sucking on the heads of those little people, and filling the boats up with mud. In retrospect, those little guys are creepy, anthropomorphic choking hazards, but whenever the kids in my life come over to play and pop those little heads in their mouths, I can't help but first feeling a little wave of nostalgia wash over me before dislodging the toy from the child's windpipe.

 (Oh, and also, it looks like three little tourists visiting the temple. That is why it is primarily funny.)

Dear Friend

(Once upon a time I was having a miserable life, sometimes I wrote poetry that makes me sad to read now, but thankful that my life is so great)

i can't stop the tears.
but even if i could,
i wouldn't.
the tears help me realize
that i can still love.
i will always love,
i will always love you.

losing you hurts.
more than the words i write
could convey.

at times i am bitter.
for giving, and giving
getting nothing in return.
but because you let me love you
your smallest gestures mean the world.

people are only in our lives
for a season.
our season was cut short.
forced into this cruel winter
to die,
at infancy.
this is all we will ever have.
because soon we will be gone.
forever.

but i rejoice.
i rejoice at the thought of you holding up your end of the deal,
leaving though it hurts,
being brave enough to follow
God's plan for you.

there is no way i could forget you.
you're in my mind until the day i die.

dear friend,
i would not be offended,
if your love for me ran out.

dear friend,
i would not be offended,
if someone took my place.

dear friend,
i would not be offended,
if you forgot me.

but dear friend,
when we meet in heaven,
be assured,
i will not have forgotten you.