Contrary to popular belief... I DO know...

For some reason, people must think I'm blind. I don't know why, I mean... I studied Art History in college.

Let me explain.

One week from today, I will be running my first 5K.

I'm excited, yes.

But I'm also apprehensive.

I've had so much negativity going into this race.

So many people doubt my ability, so many people raise an eyebrow about my interest in the world of running 5Ks.

I GET IT.

I'M FAT.

I KNOW that I'm fat. I've been this way most of my life, and while some of it is genetic, most of it is being raised by people who made poor food choices, and then making poor food choices myself.

But, I do own mirrors. I do look in them every day, and I am fully aware of my body.

However, I am making changes to my lifestyle, and this is part of it.

I told Mom today that I was worried about it, the race. That I had been humiliated so many times-- even so many this week alone-- about my size, about the race, about so many other things concerning my body, that I was thinking of pulling out of the race.

Her response?

"So do it. Train for the next one."

I think that might have been the icing on the cake.

I needed her to tell me that she believed in me. I needed her to tell me that I can do it. I needed her to tell me that it wasn't about time, or medals, or awards, or anything like that, but that she would be there to support my efforts, and watch me cross the finish line.

I'm still going to do it. I'm still going to show up, and get eaten by zombies, and cross the finish line.

Am I a fool for thinking I can do it? Absolutely.

Do I have any business being the only fat person on a 5K obstacle course? No. Fuck no.

I realize my limitations. I do not suffer from body dysmorphia. I am FULLY aware of my size, and while I don't make a habit of complaining about it, or even letting it seemingly affect me... Comments like hers DO rip my heart out a little each time.

Comments from friends, colleagues, students... they all hurt. I am not an outwardly emotional person, but I DO still feel.

I'm not sure what to do with this information, other than show up and run. I won't win, I won't even be able to run the whole thing. But I'll feel accomplished, and then I can shove it up everyone's ass after I've done it.

Until then, I'm just going to pout and be reclusive.

Small Victories

I have not been able to TRULY enjoy the visit of my nieces because I've been playing the role of caretaker, a bit of the parent role, and usually, the disciplinarian. Nothing to the extent of time outs, or anything of the sort, but constant redirection, and constant reminders of simple things like manners, and hand washing, and not touching hot stoves.

It has been exhausting, and it has proven to me that I am NOT ready for children. Of course,  I don't have the counterpart with which to produce said children, but regardless... I'm not prepared. This is something I still need to do quite a bit of thinking about.

It other news, I've fallen off the fitness wagon, and subsequently been run over by it. Everything I lost prior to vacation I have gained back. Starting this week, though, I'm back at it full force. I'm walking every day, some days even on my lunch breaks. I'm watching my food intake again, and revising my role as "Food Nazi." I'm measuring and rationing and weighing everything like it's the Great Depression.

But it's the only thing that works. Being in complete, total control works for me. Obsessively logging my food, and eating the same things for breakfast, lunch, and snacks works for me. This is MY diet plan, but I don't begrudge others theirs.

The Zombie Dash is quickly approaching, and I'm not sure that I'll be ready. Honestly, I want to cross the finish. And if it takes me an hour... so be it. At least I did it. I'm reading things about the recent race in Colorado that have me pretty scared. Barbed wire? Electric fences? Eek! But, this is supposed to be the first step in a long journey to health... so I'm taking it all with a grain of salt.

I really need to step up my training program. Does anyone have any good ideas? Keep in mind that I'm fat, I sit at a desk, and my..."upper body region"... does not handle running very well.

When I was your age...

...I would've been beaten with a belt if I screamed like that.

If I ever decide that I want children, I'm charging all of you reading this with the task of reminding me of this blog post.

I cannot control the minds of children, so I should not have them.
I cannot let go of the little things.
I cannot stand them touching my stuff.
I cannot stand constant chatter, screaming, and crying.
I cannot handle someone that cannot form a sentence.

I am NOT ready for children, and I don't know that I ever will be.

Suffice it to say, my nieces are visiting for the summer. Sweet kids, I'll give you that. And I do adore them. However... It's an adjustment. I'm just not used to the lifestyle that comes with kids.

I'm also adjusting to my thoughts about my recent road trip to Florida.

Please don't misunderstand, I had a great time. It was a bittersweet homecoming, though. There are so many things I miss about St. Petersburg. And yet... there are so many things that I thought I missed that I actually don't. Not anymore.

It will be six years in November that I've been in St. Louis, and I still couldn't tell you if this is where I feel at home. I'm not sure. I know that some part of me will always love St. Petersburg, and will always consider it home. I have people to anchor me there, but so many of them are leaving, or changing.

Most of them have children, and plenty have husbands. Some of my oldest friends aren't even in town anymore.

But, there are two three things that keep me coming back:

3.) Food. Holy hell. I was reminded on this last trip how good some of the food down there is. Two words: Tarpon. Springs.

2.) My family. We may not be ridiculously close, and we may not talk much, but I do still love them.

1.) Burgy. Now that she's there... I have no reason not to visit. It's been an adventure, repairing the rips and tears in our friendship, making it better than it had been. And now that we're in a great place, we live 1200 miles away from each other. Thank you, universe, for continuing to be ironic.

The friend thing still mystifies me. I guess I've been struggling lately. Since changing jobs in September, I've lost contact with almost every one at Old Navy. People that I worked with for 5+ years, people that I thought were some of my closest friends. No falling out, no arguments, no discussion. Simply... cut off.

It's certainly made me MORE aware of the friends that I do have, though. Although I don't see anyone as often as I'd like, I'm certainly more grateful for the relationships I've managed to create here.

I suppose I'm a ball of emotions, these days. I'm over-tired from handling the kids, I'm stressed because the color guard season is starting soon, and I feel incredibly unprepared and underqualified. I'm worried about grad school starting in the Fall. I'm still sorting out the boy department.

I shouldn't complain. Life is actually really okay these days. I feel a bit like I need a vacation from my vacation, but I'll live. I just need more sleep, and more caffeine.

Half-assed. Not literally... YET.

As of today, I am 10 pounds lighter than I was a month and a half ago.

This has not come lightly, friends. This has been a pain in the ass struggle, and some days, it still really sucks.

I own a food scale now. I drink a gallon of water or more every day. I cook on Sundays and pre-portion things like chips, pistachios, and cookies into bags and keep them in my desk. I count every. Single. Fucking. Calorie. That enters my body.

The prompt that brought this on was not sudden. And I was not excited about it. It took a lot, and still takes a lot, of will power to un-fork my gooey butter cake addiciton. I went into this kicking and screaming, but it was necessary.

I really, truly looked in the mirror and realized that I was never going to have one of those "lightbulb" moments. You know, those moments when you look at a photo and realize that some weight has creeped up on you? A moment when you realize that your favorite jeans haven't been on your body for a few years?

Yea. I wasn't going to have one of those. I've known every single day what I look like. And for a long time, I didn't care. Then, I learned to like it, accept it, and work with it.

Then... I decided that I ate like crap, and I decided to run a 5K.

Yes. MY fat ass decided to run a 5K. Why, you may ask?
Because it looks like fun.
Because I want to be one of those girls.
Not because I have some unrealistic desire to be a toothpick, but because I want to enjoy being outside, I want to enjoy activity, and I want to be able to chase my high schoolers around all summer without needing to sit, or stop for a break.
I want to be able to TRULY teach these kids to dance.
I don't want to have to explain what I want, then ask for someone more nimble than I to demonstrate. As a full fledged director... I should be able to demonstrate everything I want. If I can't do it, why should I expect my students to?

So, I signed up for a 5K in which I am chased by zombies. Yes. For 3 miles. Over obstacles.

And you know what? It's going to be a damned BLAST.

I'm not into judging people for their food habits. On the contrary. I applaud everyone for trying to make a difference in their bodies. But I also applaud those that have a normal, healthy relationship with food, because for a very long time... I did not. I ate mostly out of boredom, and sometimes out of anxiety.

I also applaud those that will look at this and call me a bitch for not just accepting my body as is. Because those are the ones that were able to do what I could not: accept. I could NOT accept my body for another day. I hated it, I hated the way it felt.

Having my brother here has really put a damper on my food nazi-ism. He wants to eat crap, mostly. Dairy Queen. Steak n' Shake. Cold Stone. McDonald's. Can I eat these things? Sure. I'm not going cold turkey, and I'm not depriving myself. But, I can't eat anything else for the rest of the day, usually. Mom is still on the "eh, whatever" diet plan, but she's trying. And I'm trying to help her.

I want to be able to look back a year from now, and be proud of how much I accomplished.

I'm looking at this whole process from the perspective that I've already lost 10 pountds. I don't care (well, I do, but not as much as you would think) how far I have to GO, because that's not motivational, and that's not going to keep me on track.

OH! In other good news, because you're not tired of my ramblings yet, Webster Univ. accepted me into their MAT in Secondary Education program for Fall 2012. Who's going back to school? This chick!

A rant about... everything.

...And here we are. Kirkwood.

There are no mice skittering across the floors.

No snakes dropping from the ceilings.

No drafts coming in the windows at night.

No chipmunks escaping the bathroom cabinets.

No mold growing in the bathroom.

No sticky glue traps ending up in beds (with mice still in them).

Sadly, all of these things have happened in the old house.

Not just once, but repeatedly.

I feel safe, comfortable, and warm in the new house. I feel like it's actually home, instead of just some shitty place that is being temporarily rented. I finally feel like I've... landed.

I even have a dresser. I haven't had one of those since I left Florida. Seriously. I sold my dresser to my produce manager when I still worked for Publix. I couldn't afford to move it.

Moving was a process. It's hard, not having reliable men in my life. Or Mom's life. We had two awesome co-workers do the heavy lifting. They busted their asses, and we are forever indebted to them.

Did my uncle show up?

No.

Did my "boyfriend" show up?

No.

When my aunt and uncle finally DID show up, it was the day after, to bring dinner, and bitch about how many stuffed animals they've seen me move over the past few years.

My co-workers had something to say about that, too.

Since this is kind of a sore subject for me (not the stuffed animals, but the thought process that goes along with them), I feel the need to explain a little bit.

Firstly, I am incredibly sentimental. Mom and I both are. She has socks that were my grandmother's. Her mixer. Her favorite mixing bowl. Dishtowels. I have the only things ever given to me by my grandparents: stuffed animals. I was a very small child when they passed away, and thus, I received a lot of toys and stuffed animals. The toys have long since been given away, or have broken, but I s

till know which grandparent gave me which stuffed animal, and for which occasion. I will probably never part with them. I didn't know my grandparents for very long, but I do know that they adored me. I've heard stories about them. I feel like I know them. And I want to continue to feel that way about them. The stuffed animals keep me connected.

Secondly, and this is the thought process part, I was an engaged woman once. I made a home with a man. A home that was ready to start a life, and a family, and all of the things that go with it. That home had to be quickly packed away and loaded onto a truck to move to Missouri. It was then unloaded into a bedroom. Yes, one single bedroom. Thus, the majority went to storage, whether in a basement, or a storage unit, or my aunt's house. There was never an opportunity to sort through things, get rid of things I didn't need or want or use. From that little basement storage locker, it went to the basement at the shitty house we just moved from. It got to a point where I was too terrified to go into the garage to sort through things. Now, I did finally sort it. Mom and I went through it together. I donated more stuff than you would believe. And yes, I do still have a lot of stuff. But I'm also holding onto the things that will one day make a home again. I'm holding onto my nice dishes, and pots and pans, and wine glasses, and wall art, and books. Books that I had in college, or in high school, or as a kid, but books that I loved, that have been read hundreds of times, and that mean something to me.

So, yes, I have a lot of stuff.

I also have a lot of stuffed animals.

And dammit, they are mine, and Mom doesn't mind storing them in her basement.

Plus, they aren't hard to move.

I don't know why it works me up that everyone bitches about them. Maybe I feel the need to defend myself, at the age of 24, for having a collection of stuffed bears.

I'm not really sure.

In any case, I will move my own damned stuff next time if it's an issue.

...anyway.

I now have real-person internet instead of stuck-in-the-styx internet, so feel free to send me things to download. I will be happy to download just about anything.

As the Barenaked Ladies said... "One Week."

The notice is in. Old Navy is no longer my main source of income.

I may stick around for extra cash on the weekends, but the beauty of this whole situation is that I don't HAVE to stick around. I can completely turn my back on Old Navy and be ok. More than ok.

I start at my new office on the 26th of September. My last day at Old Navy is the 22nd. This coming weekend will be my last as a retail employee. I can dedicate myself to my students, to my passions. I can visit long lost family and friends in other states, without having to worry about who will be there to do markdowns, or put up signs, or handle spreadsheets.

Someone else will have to learn how to work the lights, and the AC unit, and the LOD sheets, and the Top 30 report. Dan is probably going to flounder for a bit, trying to find someone to do the work that I do for such little money. Honestly... my position is not worth it. At all. I feel sorry for whoever takes it, I really do. I hope they get promoted quickly, and that they don't have to waste their time in that position for 5 years. I hope Dan goes to bat for them the way he didn't go to bat for me.

I'm embarking on a journey, friends, where I can truly be an adult, and I will not be embarassed to talk about my job. You can join me on it, right here.

The Semester Begins...

It's strange to think, for so many years I kept track of time in "semesters." Spring, summer, fall. Winter was just where Christmas break fell between Fall and Spring semesters. I kept time in school years. Now... it feels odd to watch my friends, my family, my co workers and my students return to the classroom. And me? I'm just working. No classes. No parking stickers. No syllabi to read. In many ways, I enjoy it, but in many ways... I miss it. I miss being a student. I was so good at it, and it brought me certain types of nerdy joy... not to mention social time.

To continute my summer of growing up and becoming a real adult... I applied for a job. A real, big kid job that is NOT in retail, does NOT force me to work weekends, and requires business clothing.

And I think I nailed the interview. I'm crossing every single one of my crossable limbs, because Old Navy is not cutting it any more. I'm a college grad, I'm 24. I don't WANT to run around after 17 year olds that don't care anymore. I don't WANT to work on Thanksgiving. I want to be able to visit my family on holidays. I want to be able to move out, on a salary that is actually fair for the amount of work that I do.

Basically, I want to start living like a grown up, because I deserve it.

Grad school is still there. It's not going anywhere. I will still go. Just... not right now.

I'm having too much fun teaching color guard. I will have an amazing time creating a show for winter guard. I don't want to give that up just yet.

Most of you have probably heard me complain about Matt at some point or another. But... we've talked. I've decided that I don't want to be with anyone else right now. Even as other guys tell me they are interested... I can only think "...but you're not Matt. You're not the one I actually want." I can't force myself to feel for anyone else what I feel for him. And, even if our relationship is not the greatest thing in the world, even if I get frustrated sometimes, and he gets distant sometimes... I'm happier being with him than I am being without him, and I'm willing to stick it out and see where it goes. Yes, it sucks that he is in Rolla for school... and I'm... well... here. But I can't change that. I can only go visit.

And so, readers, this is life now. Working. Relationships. I'm ACTUALLY an adult. It's a bit terrifying, so hold off on it as long as you can, ok?