The One About the Number

Do you have a number in your head?  You know, the one that is hanging over you?  The one that can potentially keep you up at night or the one that you ignore and push down with a myriad of coping mechanisms?  The one that you feel like if you reach it will just about kill you?  Mentally and physically? What is it?  Come on, you can tell me.  You know I am going to tell you.  Is it an age? Weight?  Cholesterol or Blood Pressure? Run time? Clothing Size? Number of times you have yelled at your child, spouse, employees, etc? Number of cuts?  Number of trips to the bathroom after binging? A credit limit on a credit card?  What hangs over your head like a bounty?
For me, it's the number on the scale.  And it's the big 200.  Many years ago it was a clothing size.  I distinctly remember shopping for some summer clothes because none of my size 14 shorts fit me.  So I went looking for some bigger clothes in a regular store.  I was devastated as I slunk my way out of those stores and headed to Lane Bryant.  I cried the whole time and didn't even think about what I was buying.  It didn't matter that I was in the smallest size in the store, what mattered was that I was even in the fat lady store.  I just grabbed three pair of shorts and went home and ate.  I think that might have been one of the first times in my life when I took the weight loss thing seriously.  I did lose weight that summer and I did throw away those shorts.  Vowing that I would never have to go back to Lane Bryant again.  That was my number, size 18.  Until now.  On Wednesday of this week I hit the number.  My scale said 200.6.  This number is quite an awful number for me.  First of all, I have never had a two handle on my weight.  Second of all, this was the number that separated me from my mother's battle with weight.  As long as I stayed in the "onderlands" I was not like her.  I didn't have to share any of my struggles with her and I couldn't compare myself to her.  She was morbidly obese, not me.  She was in the fat lady stores, not me.  She couldn't give me her hand me down clothes because I was too skinny for them.  The 200's put me in her league.  Hell, they put me in the one ton league.  Oh My God that SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!
I took a good hard look at myself recently, both in a picture and in the mirror - clothed and unclothed.  While some may say that this was masochistic and unnecessary, I felt that it was completely deserved.  I really needed to look at myself because I have been avoiding it forever.  I recently ran the Little Rock Arkansas Marathon at my highest weight.  I could not believe the pictures.  I also didn't want Honey Bunny to post any of his pictures.  I fought through that because he genuinely was proud of me.  The thing about this particular marathon is it is known for it's gigantic medal.  And I do mean gigantic.  HUGE.  But in my mind, it wasn't big enough to cover my gut.
Right now, in my life, I feel physically awkward.  I feel fat in the face.  My knees hurt and my clothes are tight.  My thighs are rubbing together and my stomach feels totally bloated.  So what happened the day that I hit the number?  Well you might think that I would juice fast and run to the gym.  Did I?  Of course not.  But I didn't binge eat either.  I actually, believe it or not, sat with it.  Now little honey bunny is on spring break this week and we did not go anywhere but I do not have the ability this particular week to run to the sauna and sweat it out.  This is probably a really good thing because I just would have panicked and tried to work the initial three pounds off, settling in at 197 and thinking that I could just sit here and maintain.  And wait.  Wait to hit the number again.
What I realized this week is that is what I do.  I wait to hit the number.  I worry and worry and worry and make the 197 o.k.  I think to myself, when I do hit the number, that is when I get serious because that is a serious number.  Like 197 isn't serious?  Shit, I need to get out of the 190's in a bad way.  I really need to be in the 140's.  So I spent the last year of my life worrying about the number.  Instead of figuring out a way to get out of the 190's, I worried my way into the 200 club.  What is so ironic about the whole load of crap is that I probably spent 90% of my time thinking about how to get myself out of the 190's.  I know I spent money on it.  Juice cleanses, blenders, weight watchers, body buggs, diet books, marathons, training plans, trainers, veggies, organic things, online clubs, special vitamins.  What did it get me?  One ton of anxiety and tears.

So what happens now?  What would you do if you hit your number? Would you turn your life around?  Could you?  Do you know how?  I can tell you that the answer is no.  Not until you have figured out what got you to that number in the first place.  The first thing I have done and you should do is to go back.  Look back over the last year of your life and figure out what happened.  I can guarantee you that it is not just one lightning bolt moment that things changed but most likely a series of events that lead you to some bad habits.  You cannot moved forward and change your course until you know how you got on the course you are on.  As Honey Bunny likes to say - get after it.  Oh, if it were only that easy.

The One About Courage

I have been thinking a lot about courage lately.  The big kind and the little kind.  Examples for the little kind would be eating strawberries and honey dew melon for breakfast instead of waffles and bacon.  Yesterday when little honey bunny had the stomach flu and made it to the toilet instead of the floor.  Going to the gym at 7:00 AM on Sunday to run sprints instead of sleeping in.  Big kind to me is calling the doctor to make an appointment for a mammogram when you haven't gone in years.  Running a marathon.  Training for a marathon.  Getting back on Facebook after a year of being off of it due to some rather awkward estrangements with friends or family.  Not only putting on 80's music but telling the world you have it on your Pandora.  Seriously, some may joke but I swear that takes courage.

Think about that...how many times a day do we all feel bad about ourselves and feel a little ashamed about our little "indulgences" if you will.  When I sit down to write or think or plan, I like to do the following - make a pot of tea, clean my kitchen, fold my blankets and fluff the pillows on my sofa and clean up my writing area.  Then I like to light a candle (metaphorical to me - lights a flame of creativity and opens the pathway to my thinking brain), drink some of the tea, face my laptop so that I can look outside (no matter the weather) and I put on some 80's music.  There is something extremely therapeutic to me when I hear Spandeau Ballet or Culture Club or A-Ha.  It takes me back to a time when I remember feeling good about myself yet a little insecure. When I was a teenager struggling to become an adult. You know that time - before you were say, jaded.  When the world was wide open and ripe with possibility.  When I thought that I would either move to New York and become a Broadway star and live in Greenwich Village, or the other way and thrive in Hollywood and live in the canyons and be one of those freaky cool actresses.  Or even better, I would sing.  And act.  And probably dance.  And then I would write about it.

I look at Facebook posts, ones which I make also and see sometimes personal attacks on what you say.  As if you are the dumbest person in the world.  Then I see sometimes people just wanting to show you how smart they are with their rhetoric.  Really?  I can't decide if Facebook is evil or genius.  I admit I use it everyday for my business and as a stay at home Mom and coach that works from home - I like to keep in touch with certain people.  The one thing that I see everyday on Facebook though is courage.  And cowardice.  I see people post things about their religion, their politics, their weight loss, their running, their job situations, their marriages, their children, their eating habits and other such very personal things.  Then I see some people attacked for these things.  It is no wonder many people don't put themselves out there.  I figure that if I am friends with you - and I don't mean facebook friends but a real friend then I would find those things that make you who are kind of endearing and quirky and sweet.  Maybe not but at the very least I would really like to think that I would applaud you for having the courage to be who you are.  That's what I want.  So as I finish this post, I am currently listening to Bryan Adams's song "Heaven".  And I am singing along because I know all the words.