Will I Ever Get Used to This Body?

Posted by Missy in Fitness, Guest Posts | 2 comments

Whew. Spring Break is over and it’s back to real life. I am dragging this week, and I don’t know if it’s due to the return of our school schedule, or because of the time change last week, or if it’s merely laziness. I keep having dreams where I forget important events and tasks. Do I owe you a phone call, a lunch date, money? Don’t be shy – remind me that I’m delinquent. Unless I owe you money. I will conveniently continue to forget that I owe you real, US currency until you give up and accept this handy coupon book of Useless Tasks Missy Will Never Actually Complete plus a few car wash tokens I found in under the front seat.

Thank goodness for Wednesdays and guest bloggers. Instead of me forgetting I have a blog this week, you get this amazing post from one of my Austin Bloggers friends, Evin, the owner of Food Good, Laundry Bad. If what you see in the mirror doesn’t match what you see in your mind, this post is for you. In fact, if you’ve ever had to wrap your head around any kind of new normal, whether your body, your career, your life in general, this post will resonate.

***

From the time I hit puberty until I was 27, I was fat, overweight, chubby, obese.

I stopped getting on the scale around 22, and I was right at 250 pounds then. June 1, 2006, I had gastric bypass surgery. The day I had the surgery, I had to step onto a scale and actually look at the numbers. I was 356 pounds. That’s the same weight as 2 adult males.

I hated my body and just knew that everything wrong in my life was because of “the fat.”

If I could just lose “the fat,” my life would turn around. Every bad grade in school was because the teacher didn’t like me because I was fat, not because I hadn’t studied. Every job I didn’t get was because the employer didn’t want to hire a fat person, not because I was poorly qualified for the job. Every date I didn’t go on was because I was so fat, not because I was socially awkward and goofy.

So I had the gastric bypass, KNOWING that it would be a magical event that would change my life. I’d get the best job, finish school, find a husband, and live happily ever after. Right? RIGHT? Wrong.

“Fat” in our society is more than a physical description. It’s a way of life. A mindset. I still have a fat brain. I turn sideways to get through narrow-ish spaces, even though my now-slim body will fit through it just fine. I still head to the plus size section of the clothing stores and pick out tunic tops. I have sex with most of my clothes on, and the lights off. I never assume that the cute guy is looking at me, he must be looking at my friend.

So I wonder… will I ever get used to this?

I’m 34, and I have three kids. I want my kids to know a happy, active, regular-brained mom. I worry about going to the park because what if I get tired? I have tons of energy (compared to before… I’m 34 and have three kids, I’m pretty much worn out all the time) so I can “do” the park without a problem, physically. That shouldn’t even occur to me! It’s six years later and while I know what to eat and how to physically take care of the tool the bypass gave me, I don’t know how to reprogram my fat brain. I still don’t have the degree, the job, or the husband. Losing “the fat” didn’t help anything. I still have the fat brain and it’s holding me back.

I wonder if I’ll have to be thin as long as I was fat before my brain will adjust? I hope not, I was fat for a very long time and that would make me a very old lady. I hope my brain catches up soon, that’s for sure. I’m ready to believe that I’m as cute as people say I am, and to think as healthy as I feel.

I wonder…

:: Does anyone else’s brain works this way?

***

About the Writer

Evin is a stay-at-home-mom of three kids shacked up in the country, laughing her way through piles of laundry taller than her children. She writes about food, family and failing at housework at her blog Food Good, Laundry Bad, and you can find her snarking it up on Twitter at @evinschmevin.

Fear and Failure

Posted by Missy in Fitness, Whatever | 13 comments

I bought a road bike. She’s* real pretty. I got shoes that clip in and a fancy saddle so my delicates won’t hurt.

My new ride.

And now I guess I have to ride this bike.

I know it’s ridiculous, but this bike scares me. The clips scare me, because I will fall over. It’s simply a matter of when, not if. You all can start a betting pool now.

But it’s not only falling that scares me. Road rash and shame, unappealing though they are, are temporary. I’m much more afraid of that bike gathering dust in my garage. I look at it and hear the two voices that are constantly bickering inside my head:

Whheeee! A new bike! Just imagine all the great rides ahead of you.

vs.

When, exactly, do you plan to do all of this riding? And do you really expect to ever achieve anything bigger than finishing a little sprint triathlon? Who are you kidding, lady?

A) Don’t tell me you have peaceful silence in your head. Please tell me that you, too, have conflicting self-talk going on.

B) That second voice is bitchy, right?

I think that this latest fear – and doubt – are only a glimpse into my psyche. And possibly a lot of other psyches, as well. I can’t be alone, or else Pinterest, wouldn’t be plastered with quotes like this:

I’m a realist: I know that failure is always a possibility. I tell my kids that it’s much better to work hard and fail than to wonder what if…? And I believe that. I do.

And yet… I think I let the idea of failure hold me back more than I like to admit. You know, if I’m going to tell my kids that they have to be okay falling on their faces, I need to fall on mine sometimes.

I’ve heard people quote this line a few times – What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?

There’s something to that; I kind of think you do have to approach your goals under the delusion that you cannot, will not fail. But you also have to be prepared to fail, and accept failure as part of the learning process. Is that too Pollyanna?

Just for grins, if I could guarantee success here’s what I would do:

An Iron Man

This may truly may be hilarious, since I’m clearly never getting rid of my plantar faciitis, but still. This is a no-fail scenario, so bite me, plantar faciitis.

Act, On Stage, In a Play

I’ve always said I couldn’t be an actor, because I’m awful at it. That may be the case, but I have no idea if I’m awful or not. My last role was Big Billy Goat Gruff in kindergarten. But since this is a no fail thing, I’m probably going to walk away with a Tony.

This is real life, however, and not my no-fail la-la land. So I’m going to start by taking that bike out for a ride. If you see me, please maneuver your car way far away from me, so that you don’t run over me. And also so I don’t try to wave at you, causing me to lose my balance and fall over because I couldn’t get my feet out of those clips fast enough.

I wonder…

:: Cheesy though it is, what would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?

:: What are your wise words on tackling goals and trying new things?

*The bike is a she and she’s nameless. Any thoughts?

Age Inflicted Aches and Pains

Posted by Missy in Fitness | 15 comments

A few birthdays ago. I should probably stretch and warm up before blowing out candles this year.

My birthday is this week. {I’ll pause while you whoop it up in my honor.}

I’m closing in on 40, and as of this week have only two more years to be a 30-something. I know some of my readers are thinking so young! and others are thinking banana peel, grave!

I’ll tell you what I’m thinking: aging is no joke.

I read magazines. I’ve seen the warnings and the tips. I’ve seen an article a month for the last two decades about the aging process.

How to Turn Your Supermarket Into A Time Machine: Foods That Stop Aging in Its Tracks!

Your Boobs Are Old: Medical Tests You Must Have in Your 40s!

Straight From Hogwarts, We Have Magical Face Creams: Caring for Your Older Skin!

How to Make the Best of Your Coldwater Creek Credit Card Because You Can Barely Pull Off Banana Republic Or Gap and Don’t Even Think About H&M or Forever 21!

Over the years, reading these headlines led to a suspicion that our bodies change around the time we cross the threshold from 35-ish to old. Lately, my suspicions have been confirmed.

I expect things like deteriorating vision, slower metabolism, and an inability to work most technical devices. I did not expect daily life to become so hazardous just yet. I thought I had 30-40 more years before removing all the rugs to create a completely even walking surface.

So much for that. I offer you my latest list of aches and pains, and how I acquired them.

Injury: Sore shoulder.
Cause: Taking off a sports bra.

Injury: Strained gluteus maximus muscle.
Cause: Uh, no idea. Sitting, maybe. Or squating down to pick up one of my orthotic shoe inserts?

Injury: Achy, popping elbow.
Cause: Sleeping.

Injury: Twisted knee.
Cause: Putting on tights.

Injury: Stiff hip joints.
Cause: Sitting criss-cross apple sauce at the Little Gym.

Injury: Pinched nerve in my neck.
Cause: Sneezing.

I wonder…

:: I frequently forget that I’m not in my 20s, but there are days when my body won’t let me forget. Do you ever feel surprised by changes in your physical abilities (we’re not even going there with brain power… that’s a whole different post. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, I wonder…)?

I Found the Fountain of Youth

Posted by Missy in Fitness, Whatever | 3 comments

I am getting younger, and I have proof. Inscrutable proof. {It’s possible I don’t know what inscrutable means.}

But you’ll have to head over to Lauren Nicole Jewelry and Gifts to read about it. I’m honored to be the first guest in Lauren Nicole’s new blogger series. Thank you, Denise (and Theta Mom Media), for letting me occupy your blog page today!

After you read my post – a post that is not about rashes or acne {it’s possible I’m lying} – you can follow Lauren Nicole Jewelry & Gifts on Twitter and click that “Like” button on the company’s Facebook page. Now you’ll never miss out on beautiful handmade, personalized accessories.

Look What We Can Do

Posted by Missy in Fitness | 10 comments

Race start... Cap and goggles, always a good look. (Photo courtesy of Tom Marek.)

If you’ve been hanging around here for any time, you’ve probably seen a quote or two from Sports Night, the greatest show ever. I have a Sports Night reference library in my head, and can call up a quote for almost any occasion.

On Sunday, as I watched women – strong, powerful women representing a spectacularly diverse population – compete in the 2011 Danskin Triathlon in Austin, I kept thinking, Look what we can do.

Those words come from an episode of Sports Night that centered on summiting Mount Everest. In the same episode, a character says, “…I don’t think anyone should tell us how high we can climb.”

Amen.

I had a good race. Not a spectacular one, nothing for the record books. Some might even be embarrassed by numbers like mine. But after wondering if I would even get to compete, much less finish, I was just happy to be there. In fact, as one of the Team Leaders from my training group (the fabulous Tri Zones) says, There’s no place else I’d rather be.

One day last week I almost grabbed my bad day pants again and called it quits. After two months of spending every spare minute – and every spare dollar – at the doctor and physical therapy, I had a setback. My original ailment has come a long way, and I am even running a little. But all of a sudden, I developed a trick hip.

I left our final team workout in tears on Wednesday. Angry, frustrated, sad tears. I wanted to quit.

But I didn’t.

When I was five I started swim team, and I was terrible. Abysmal. In constant danger of drowning. But at the end of the season I won the Most Determined Swimmer trophy. The trophy is long gone (or, possibly, it’s in a box in the closet), but the spirit in which it was won is still there.

There’s no place else I’d rather be, I thought, as I limped into the doctor’s office once again. Muscle spasms? Entrapped nerve? The doctor and physical therapist weren’t 100% sure, but we worked through the muscles and came up with a plan: stretch, ice, rest, repeat, repeat, repeat, go do the Danskin.

And so I did.

Not even a kick in the face at the start of the swim could put a damper on my day. Our day. The day that belonged to all 1038 athletes and the countless volunteers, coaches and team leaders who made the race happen.

I can’t pick a best moment. But if you held me down and tickled me until I came up with one, it would be this: seeing my family at the finish and crossing the finish line hand-in-hand with my five year old. He says that was also his favorite part of the day, followed closely by eating a snow cone and seeing a dead fish in the lake.* I am so thankful I rate above a dead fish.

Our team hung around until the brutally hot end, so we could cheer on the final finisher. Can you think of anything worse than swimming, biking and running your way to the finish, only to be alone when you cross the finish line? Me either. So we stayed. And we danced, cheered, rang our cowbells and celebrated.

I stood outside the fray for a few minutes and felt tears spill down, thinking, don’t tell us how high we can climb. Or how far we can swim, how quickly we can peddle, how fast we can run.

I was thinking, look what we can do.

My teammates, who also happen to be my neighbors and my sweet friends, at the end of the race. (Photo courtesy of Tom Marek.**)

*The same in lake in which I swam. We will not dwell on this part, okay?

** Thank you, thank you to our team photographers, Tom Marek and Ed Sparks.

Stuff I Forgot to Tell You

Posted by Missy in Family, Fitness, Food | 5 comments

Since I haven’t been a frequent flier here lately, I’ve forgotten to tell you some things.

One day perhaps I’ll return to posts with a point, but today’s not the day. Depending on how you view the world, I have either a lot of little points today, or no point at all. You’re entitled to see it however you wish.

Thing #1: Texas Beef Council

I’m remiss, more than a little, in telling you about a great day I spent with the Texas Beef Council, Nolan Ryan’s Beef and Chef Richard Chamberlain.  Thanks to my friend, Gigi, our co-host for the day, Austin bloggers were invited to a cooking class and demonstration.

I knew it was going to be a good day, but I have to say I was surprised by how much fun I had. Our hosts were all lovely people and I learned things. Can’t go wrong with that.

A) I was not much of a meat-cooker. I eat meat, but I didn’t like to deal with it prior to shoveling it in. I still don’t really like knowing what part of the animal the meat comes from or what it looked like in between grazing and ending up on my plate.

A1) I can cook meat now. Tenderloin steaks: run and hide, suckers, because I can make people weep with joy after I cook you.

B) I met some amazing Austin bloggers, and got to hang out with a few I was already happy to call friends.

B1) Gigi’s recap is great, including a picture of me appearing to threaten Blythe with a pair of tongs. See? Fun!

C) I ate the equivalent of about five lunches, all of which included beef and none of which included my children complaining about the meal.

C1) Need I say more?

Thing #2: The Passing of Time

I now have a kindergartener (just ask him, he’ll let you know he’s not a preschooler any longer). Graduation was last week, complete with an introduction to each matriculating child and announcements of what the children want to be when they grow up.

H wants to be a police offer, and his friend who lives across the street wants to be a fire fighter. We just need an EMT and the adults on this street will be well taken care of in our old age.

I didn’t boo-hoo like I expected to, but I did feel a tightness in my chest (this is where our resident emergency response team is going to come in real handy), and a pit in my stomach. Mostly, however, I felt proud of my big guy. My funny, sweet, law-enforcing guy.

In addition to my preschool grad, I also now have a two-year-old. H looked at me the other day and said, “Mom, you do know P is not a baby anymore, don’t you?”

Salt. Wound. Thanks, kid.

Yes, I know he’s not a baby anymore. I know he is, in fact, a tiny John Belushi/John Blutarsky. The kid finds bodily functions beyond hilarious and regularly throws his food. He’s into shirtless air guitar and removing his pants in public.

He’s so cute we could eat him. And don’t tell H, but sometimes I am a little stunned that P is not a baby anymore.

Thing #3: More staples. Different Head.

The truth is I didn’t forget to tell you this, because it just happened. Apparently it’s not a holiday around here without a trip to the ER. This time it was Mark, though, and he topped P by one staple.

Open cabinet door met head, there was blood, there was nausea (mine), and finally, three staples. I let him milk it for exactly six hours, and I hope he enjoyed that six-hour recuperation time, because come Monday morning there were pool parties to attend and garages to reorganize.  It’s his own fault, really, because he insists he feels fine. I could teach the man a lot about eliciting sympathy.

Thing #4: Triathlon Update

More of an update, less of a thing I forgot to tell you. I haven’t mentioned it in a while, maybe because it’s hard to fit in everything when you only blog once a week, but I am still training for the Danskin Triathlon. It wasn’t quite the training season I hoped for, but I’m going to finish the race. So that’s something.

I feel like my fitness level is improving, maybe not at the rate I had in mind pre-physical-therapy-athon, but it’s improving. So that, too, is something. I still can’t look at a picture of myself without wanting to smash all cameras and mirrors. I have to wonder, though, when – if ever – that won’t be the case?

Updates, done.

Except I’m sure I forgot some stuff, so don’t be surprised if another update post appears soon.