Thoughts on Life at X-Large

As happens sometimes, I write a comment on someone else's blog and I think to myself "huh... that could be a blog post all in itself!" Usually, that's the end of the thought, but today, I copied the comment and saved it as a new post. It's something I think about sometimes, but try not to dwell on...

I don't hate myself because I'm overweight. I've been underweight and I've been normal weight and now I'm overweight. One of the things I've learned is that that can change! You do what you need to do and live your life while doing it.

I used to have a "fat" blog that was all about losing weight. It was so BORING! And I find people who talk about nothing but how to lose weight, losing weight or how they lost weight absolutely tedious. I gave up that blog after I hadn't written on it in a few months because that's not where my head is.

I recognize that I need to lose weight. I exercise when I can and practice mindful eating with the occasional splurge to remind myself that eating IS a pleasure as well as a necessity. But my weight doesn't rule my life. Love does. And part of that love is doing what I can to be around as long as I can for my man and my son.

Really. That's how I feel about it. In this, the holiday season - with it's parties and big meals and sitting around visiting - I'm not going to feel bad about celebrating. Even if that means a piece of pumpkin pie and a glass of eggnog. And luckily for me, this is exactly the kind of weather that makes my getup and go get up and go! I love walking in the chilly night air. Or cleaning like a dervish, not stopping until it's all done. Or riding my bike as the last of the leaves drift down.

I'm going to live my life, no matter what kind of shape I'm in - because if I put my life off until I feel or look better, that's time I will never get back again. And I'm not going to miss it.

PS - the friend's blog is here. You can see where I jumped off.

Fun Monday - Crafty Wenches

Jill begins her month of hosting Fun Monday with this challenge:
Homemade gifts: given, received, how did they turn out? Failure or roaring success?

A very timely topic for me, as I've about had commercial Christmas up to here. I understand that people need to spend money to make the economy go and that the retail sector out there is hurting and doing everything they can to make people spend money. The problem is, I don't have that kind of money. And even if I did, I'm so turned off by the commercials and print ads that I wouldn't spend it on the stuff they're advertising. It all looks like crap to me. Plastic, fakey crap.

Now, before you call me Scrooge, please know this.... I love Christmas. I just happen to think that commercialism is ruining it. I like to hear carols and light candles and decorate a tree. I like giving to people who need it and sharing a sense of humanity with everyone. What I don't like is the one-up-manship that happens between people that shows up under the tree. And my mother and mother-in-law feeling like they have to go out into the crowds, spend money they don't need to spend nd wear themselves out over the craziness. My advice to them? DON'T DO IT!!!

Really. I have everything I need. And my minimalist personality can't think of anything I want. Get my boy a little something - a book or a toy - but don't go crazy. Unbelieveably, there's not a lot he wants either.

For my gift giving this year, I'm making things. My friend Jennifer got the ball rolling Saturday by hosting a little crafty get-together, and five women spent two hours bent over needles and paint, talking and trying out different things. I had decided I wanted to try making felt ornaments. I remembered that my aunt Jill had made these marvelous ornaments when I was a kid and I wanted to do something like that. I just didn't know how to start. So I free-hand cut out a camel shape (not anatomically correct, by the way) and gave it a shot.

It didn't turn out much like I had envisioned, but I did learn a little something about beading some decoration, what not to do for a hanging loop, and I got to practice my blanket stitch a little.

Two of the other crafty ladies were working on owl ornments. They turned out so cute! I asked where they got the pattern and they gave me the website. When I got home, I printed out the pattern and gave it a try. THIS one turned out quite nice!

Sunday afternoon, it was just me and my boy, so we decided to do some more crafty kinds of things. He found a pattern for a mouse, and we tried that one. This was actually his project with just a little help from me - and look what my boy did!

He opted to not make it an ornament, but rather just a toy mouse. It's hard to see the work he put into it because it's black, but he did a wonderful job of it.

While he worked on his mouse, I made up a pattern for another ornament. Then I cut it out, did a little embroidery on it, and viola!

I'm very encouraged. I think our ornaments turned out pretty well (once we got past the camel). I'll be dragging out the sewing machine next. I have several presents I want to make - one of which I need to mail. But both my guys and my granddaughter are going to have presents lovingly made by hand - by me this year. I do not plan to step foot in a store unless it's for more sewing supplies!

Day 8 - Someone Who Made Your Life Hell

I really don't want to write this one.

I have thought and thought about it. Trying to remember a bully from school or the playground. But there really weren't any that I remember. I went through school as invisibly as possible. The cool people didn't notice me or know that I was alive, but that went for the mean people too.

Brothers don't count... it's actually their job to make your life hell from time to time - though I have to say that MY brothers didn't even do that. The most hell they made for me was worry about various things... relationships, jobs, hazardous duty, illness. That kind of hell is just part of being alive and loving people. It comes and goes, but there's no malice in it. No intent to harm.

But there was one person who made my life hell - and he was someone who was supposed to love me.

I guess we started out okay. I was young and pretty naive. He was older but immature. Looking back, we didn't have much in common. I can't think of anything we actually did together for fun. But we got married anyway.

It was okay as long as we lived where I had family and friends, but he got a job halfway across the country and we packed all our belongings into a little U-haul trailer and left on a chilly day Thanksgiving weekend. I was a little scared - my safety net was gone. He was impatient with me - we were going to better our lives! Why didn't I want to go?

Because he was a stranger. Really. And once he started his job, I was left alone. I'd never been alone before. No one to talk to, no job to occupy my time. I didn't know what to do with myself but cook and clean. I gained some weight. I felt trapped. I finally got a job and had something to do - something I was really good at. I felt appreciated at work and took on more and more, then a different job in the same organization. But he remained a stranger. He didn't care about anything I had to say, would rather watch football and drink beer than do anything with me.

Eventually, loneliness won out. There was a guy at work who talked to me and seemed to care about what I had to say, what I thought... and eventually there was an affair. It wasn't fun. It actually made me feel much worse than I did before and it wasn't long before I ended it. But the damage had been done and somehow he realized something was different.

One day, he asked me straight out if I'd been unfaithful and I answered honestly. For my honesty, I earned a black eye and a few bruises. I suppose I'd be a different person if I'd bailed then, but I didn't realize it was possible to walk away and over the next year I wore dark glasses to work more often than not and wore long sleeves to hide the grab marks on my arms and swallowed plenty of aspirin to counteract the aching in the back of my head from having it banged against the wall. My self-esteem plunged. I attempted suicide twice. Another thing I wasn't good at, apparently, as I am still here.

One day, I left. I went to a battered women's shelter and stayed for two weeks. While I was there, I saw women and children who were missing patches of hair or teeth, with arms in casts and mulitcolored skin. They were broken in ways I'd never dreamed of. And I felt like my problems were much smaller than theirs, so I left. I went back home to a repentant husband who never hit me again. There are other ways to hurt though and while the physical punishment was over, the emotional punishment began in earnest.

I hated myself more than I hated him. I used to whip myself in the face with a belt. It felt cleansing and released a frustration inside of me that couldn't be addressed in any other way without reprecussions. I can understand cutters and self-flagelents in a way I never could before. Sometimes the physical pain is a great relief from emotional anguish.

I can't tell you what made me do it, but one morning I woke up and knew I had to leave. Someone would die if I didn't. And I did. I drove home because I wasn't sure where else to go, did what I had to to cut the ties to my married life and began again.

I am who I am in part because of what I went through. And while I would never choose to do that again, I like who I became when I came out the other side. I have since forgiven both myself and my ex-husband for being young, immature and stupid, hateful people.

I am strong. I know what I want. I also know what I don't want. I have grown up. I have a lot to give. And I appreciate the life I have now more than you will ever know.