This week's blog is of the serious nature written by my oldest son, Shayne. I wanted to share this you all. Thank you.
I will start this off by saying that I spent 4 years active duty from 99-03. I had good times and bad as does every other Marine. I have always regretted getting out until now.
Long Story Short... A Marine joins to serve his country and better himself as a Man. He is sent to Afghanistan for 9 months and is picked because of his abilities to join up with a different unit while he is there. Does his tour with honor courage and commitment to the corps, his unit and his country. He returns from his deployment and shortly gets promoted to Cpl.
But he also returns with MANY mental issues due to his deployment and tries to take his own life....He is hospitalized, medicated and is going to be released on a medical discharge because of this. His unit gets scheduled for a field op which the Naval Doctors say HE SHOULD NOT GO ON or it could severely affect his current mental condition, but his all-knowing CO decides the doctors don’t know anything and decide to take him any way no matter what the doctors say...
The Marine comes back from the field and then gets NJP'ed (non-judicial punishment for the night he tried to take his life) and has every possible punishment thrown at him even though his entire Chain of command goes and says what and awesome Marine he is...
So instead of helping a Marine that has SEVERE mental issues due to his time served his CO decides that he is going to do everything in his power to take everything he had EARNED and just toss it away...
He should have done the honorable thing and just let the Marine get his Medical discharge and the help he needed; instead he stripped him of everything because he knows what’s best.......
With all the friends and all the good times I have had in the Marines, I am now actually for the First time since 03 HAPPY I got out instead of being around Marines who do all they can to crap all over the Brotherhood that I THOUGHT the Marine Corps was about....
Someone, Please Remind me what SEMPER FI means..........
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Dating Sites; Emails Don't Lie
Who knew? I’m 55 year’s old and have been struggling with self-confidence issues most of my life; come to find out, it was all for nothing. I am a fucking hottie. Surprised? Stunned? Asking yourself what the hell am I talking about? I’ll tell you just what I’m talking about. Men want me. Lots of men, good looking, and viral studs are just waiting for to date me.
How do I know you ask? Because I get emails every single day telling me that I have hundreds if not thousands of men in my town alone who are just waiting to date me.
Hey, emails don’t lie.
These men aren’t just after me for wild-passionate sex, they want me as their soul mate; their wife, friend and life companion. To these men I am the ultimate woman.
Once again, who knew?
Like I said, at 55 years old, I thought my dating life was over; I mean I am married. Nope, these men don’t care. They want to take me away from my hum-drum life. Travel, the theatre, the sky is the limit as to what these men want to shower upon me.
Their ages range from 35 to 70. I feel that it must be destiny that I cheat on my husband. I delete these emails, put them in my junk file and never answer them. They keep coming back; it must be fate.
I get emails from all the usual dating sites, and some that I have never heard of before. How some of these sites know that I’m overweight is beyond me. They know though. They must, because I get emails describing in detail how beautiful my big body is and that I have hundreds of men just waiting in line for my BIG, BEAUTIFUL BODY; and mind of course.
Hell, even God knows who is right for me on the dating circuit.
There are websites out there that profess that God knows who the right person for me is. It doesn’t matter that I’m a married women, HE knows what's best. How this is possible, I just don’t know, but it must be true; I received an email all about it.
We all know that Emails don’t lie.
My husband and I were watching TV the other night and there had to be ten different dating sites advertised during a three hour span.
Now mind you, the women in these advertisements look nothing like me; all cute little women in skimpy black dresses and perky bodies. I’m surprised that the men would want those women. I mean, I thought they all wanted me.
Apparently, THOSE women look better in the ads; but I know the men only have eyes for me.
My fear through all of this is; do I stay faithful to my husband of 26 years even though all these men seem to want and need me, or do I stay right where I am; knowing that I am depriving so many. It is a great responsibility knowing that so many men want only one thing in life; and that’s to be with me.
They do, they must; emails wouldn’t lie.
I ask again, how in the world am I supposed to stay faithful with all this going on around me? It’s ridiculous to think that at my age, I could be the next great sex symbol. Who knew?
Move over Kim, here comes Nancy!
Have any of you seen the commercials for the phone number to call if you want to spend a great Friday night in, talking to singles in your own neighborhood? Well, the women who are calling these numbers are sexy ladies. Tight pants, low cut blouses showing their ample breasts pushing out of there sweaters; fully made up face.
They look into the camera, shake their little butts and whisper oh so sexily, ‘CALL ME, I’M HERE FOR YOU”. Why do they need to dress like that for a phone conversation? That’s one aspect of the whole phone sex deal that I just don’t get.
One of these days I need to call that number. Guaranteed it’s a little old man sitting in his boxers in a cubicle somewhere making ten bucks an hour pretending to be someone he isn’t.
Well, if these enticing emails don’t stop soon, I might have to make some very life-changing decisions. I mean really, who could pass up so many offers from such a variety of men; I’m only human after all.
Truth be told, maybe I’m not the only one receiving these emails….. Could it be that all of this is just an advertising ploy to get me to join their site? Could it really be true that I’m not the sought-after vixen that I was starting to believe I was? Does everyone else really receive these emails too? Are they just hoping to connect with someone who is so lonely or unhappy that they would believe everything that they receive?
Is that reality of it all that everyone gets the same crap day after day?
Wow, I think my bubble has just burst.
Hell, maybe emails do lie.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
MY BOOK, IT'S OK TO LAUGH, IS NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM KINDLE EBOOKS. PLEASE CHECK IT OUT. I DON'T THINK YOU WILL BE DISAPPOINTED. ENJOY NANCY SANTA LUCIA
I WILL BE BLOGGING AGAIN SOON.
Tatas and Mr. Happy
So for any of you who have been living under a rock or who haven't read my blog in a while, our family is preparing for a wedding.
Our oldest son is taking the plunge in April.
This can mean only one thing. My descent into the world of glamor, fashion and breasts. Yes, I said breasts. A woman can't possibly be sexy without her breasts showing in some way, shape or form. Can she?
Odd choice of word; shape. Mine have taken on a shape all their own. No firm, round melons for me; no sir. Mine are more of the free-form type. Oh, I'm not saying that older, more mature breasts can't be attractive; I'm just saying it makes it harder to keep them where they belong.
We lay on our backs and they go to the side making even the most full-breasted woman appear flat. Lean over our man and they could cause serious harm if set into motion. Standing with our back erect and in a bra is the best way to go. Fake perky.
Now, the dress that I purchased for the wedding shows some cleavage. I simply could not get a dress that didn't. I mean really, the mother of the bride is a gorgeous and sexy woman, who will be in a sleeveless dress with peep toes shoes. I can't wear sleeveless as my arms look like hams and my feet look like hooves. There you have it.
Back to the dress, the trick there is getting a bra that is low enough so as not to show, yet strong enough to keep these girls up where they belong and not jiggling around like a cup of jello.
It's a must that a trip to the bra and girdle factory is in my future. I go straight to the industrial sized section. No cute little bras for me. Large, mega clasps and heavy; with steel reinforcements, of course.
Feel the seduction...................
Why my preoccupation with breasts? Isn't it our breasts that define us as women? Don't all women love that men love our tatas. Oh, legs and butts get their share of attention.... but tits.....that's where it's at.
Since my high school days that's how it has been for me. Picture this, seventh grade and a group of my male classmates are standing on the other side of the room. I hear my name, glance over to see all these boys staring at me. I was in heaven... they wanted me I was sure of it. As I walked over wondering which one of these 13-year old wants to ask me out my heart was pounding. I was very shy but ready to take one of them on. I didn't care which one it was, I wanted a boy friend.
What came out of the ring-leaders mouth will stick with me forever. "Hey Nancy, we just wanted to see you bounce."
If there had been a hole I would have crawled into it. I mean really. Aghhhhhhhh
The ladies that I work with were discussing the finer points of our mammary glands and, of course, my dress, when I asked the one guy in the kitchen his opinion on the subject. Did it matter to him if the breasts in question were fake or real, and did he know if fake ones felt the same.
I was convinced of his answer before he opened his mouth. There was no doubt in my mind of what his thoughts were. I know these things..Of course men wanted the real thing. That was a no brainer. Sagging, maybe not; but real none the less.
Men loved their women and wanted the real deal.
WRONG. His response was, "real or fake, we want them big and firm". Good God what had I been thinking? I wasn't, that's the problem. But it did give me cause to think.
If breasts were so important to men, what about the penis for women? I think it's safe to say that women like that particular part of a man's anatomy as much as men like our tunas.
Why can women prance around showing as much breast as possible and men can completely conceal their privates? That doesn't seem fair to me. Men can scope out the women's assets while the lady is left in the dark until they become intimate.
It's not like a woman can go grabbing at men's crotches to feel what he has. That would be going way to far even for me.
Go to any beach and you see little bodies in little bathing suits showing off all their goodies. Or, older women trying desperately to look younger and showing as much breast as they possibly can without hurting themselves.
Since speedo's aren't very popular these days, swim trunks have taken center stage. Granted, guys look cute in them, but you simply can't tell what's in there. There is no way to see what a man is packing in those shorts. Chests on the men, yes; but that's all we get to see. Bummer.
Why was their junk more important to conceal then our girls? It's because in this instance, men are smarter. Don't' reveal what I have until the woman is hooked on my charm and wit.
Then they drop the bomb, or their pants if you will. By that time it's too late. Small or large, erect or placid what can we do?
Can we really dump a guy that we already like because his privates aren't good enough? Where is the justice in that?
There isn't any, that's all I'm saying.
So, back to my dress. I am sure that I will look very pretty in my dress aging breasts and all. As a 54 year old woman who is finally realizing that she is aging and not a young girl any longer; I'm still goofy, naive and flaky, but my body has decided it's time to grow up.
I don't think I'm going to like this thing called....growing up and older.
I WILL BE BLOGGING AGAIN SOON.
Tatas and Mr. Happy
So for any of you who have been living under a rock or who haven't read my blog in a while, our family is preparing for a wedding.
Our oldest son is taking the plunge in April.
This can mean only one thing. My descent into the world of glamor, fashion and breasts. Yes, I said breasts. A woman can't possibly be sexy without her breasts showing in some way, shape or form. Can she?
Odd choice of word; shape. Mine have taken on a shape all their own. No firm, round melons for me; no sir. Mine are more of the free-form type. Oh, I'm not saying that older, more mature breasts can't be attractive; I'm just saying it makes it harder to keep them where they belong.
We lay on our backs and they go to the side making even the most full-breasted woman appear flat. Lean over our man and they could cause serious harm if set into motion. Standing with our back erect and in a bra is the best way to go. Fake perky.
Now, the dress that I purchased for the wedding shows some cleavage. I simply could not get a dress that didn't. I mean really, the mother of the bride is a gorgeous and sexy woman, who will be in a sleeveless dress with peep toes shoes. I can't wear sleeveless as my arms look like hams and my feet look like hooves. There you have it.
Back to the dress, the trick there is getting a bra that is low enough so as not to show, yet strong enough to keep these girls up where they belong and not jiggling around like a cup of jello.
It's a must that a trip to the bra and girdle factory is in my future. I go straight to the industrial sized section. No cute little bras for me. Large, mega clasps and heavy; with steel reinforcements, of course.
Feel the seduction...................
Why my preoccupation with breasts? Isn't it our breasts that define us as women? Don't all women love that men love our tatas. Oh, legs and butts get their share of attention.... but tits.....that's where it's at.
Since my high school days that's how it has been for me. Picture this, seventh grade and a group of my male classmates are standing on the other side of the room. I hear my name, glance over to see all these boys staring at me. I was in heaven... they wanted me I was sure of it. As I walked over wondering which one of these 13-year old wants to ask me out my heart was pounding. I was very shy but ready to take one of them on. I didn't care which one it was, I wanted a boy friend.
What came out of the ring-leaders mouth will stick with me forever. "Hey Nancy, we just wanted to see you bounce."
If there had been a hole I would have crawled into it. I mean really. Aghhhhhhhh
The ladies that I work with were discussing the finer points of our mammary glands and, of course, my dress, when I asked the one guy in the kitchen his opinion on the subject. Did it matter to him if the breasts in question were fake or real, and did he know if fake ones felt the same.
I was convinced of his answer before he opened his mouth. There was no doubt in my mind of what his thoughts were. I know these things..Of course men wanted the real thing. That was a no brainer. Sagging, maybe not; but real none the less.
Men loved their women and wanted the real deal.
WRONG. His response was, "real or fake, we want them big and firm". Good God what had I been thinking? I wasn't, that's the problem. But it did give me cause to think.
If breasts were so important to men, what about the penis for women? I think it's safe to say that women like that particular part of a man's anatomy as much as men like our tunas.
Why can women prance around showing as much breast as possible and men can completely conceal their privates? That doesn't seem fair to me. Men can scope out the women's assets while the lady is left in the dark until they become intimate.
It's not like a woman can go grabbing at men's crotches to feel what he has. That would be going way to far even for me.
Go to any beach and you see little bodies in little bathing suits showing off all their goodies. Or, older women trying desperately to look younger and showing as much breast as they possibly can without hurting themselves.
Since speedo's aren't very popular these days, swim trunks have taken center stage. Granted, guys look cute in them, but you simply can't tell what's in there. There is no way to see what a man is packing in those shorts. Chests on the men, yes; but that's all we get to see. Bummer.
Why was their junk more important to conceal then our girls? It's because in this instance, men are smarter. Don't' reveal what I have until the woman is hooked on my charm and wit.
Then they drop the bomb, or their pants if you will. By that time it's too late. Small or large, erect or placid what can we do?
Can we really dump a guy that we already like because his privates aren't good enough? Where is the justice in that?
There isn't any, that's all I'm saying.
So, back to my dress. I am sure that I will look very pretty in my dress aging breasts and all. As a 54 year old woman who is finally realizing that she is aging and not a young girl any longer; I'm still goofy, naive and flaky, but my body has decided it's time to grow up.
I don't think I'm going to like this thing called....growing up and older.
Monday, February 7, 2011
NICOLE bold beautiful and bitchy
Well, Shayne's wedding is two months away and we are all getting very excited to say the least.
I have my dress, my shoes and my piece of mind.
I'm sorry to say, that wasn't always the case. as my heart was still with Shayne's ex-fiance.
Shayne was engaged when he went to Iraq in 2003 and was single a few months after he came home. I got very close to this young woman during their brief time together and my heart wasn't ready to let her go.
We had shared the fears of having a loved one at war. It was a very difficult time for me and having someone in the same position as me, someone who understood, was very comforting. As a result of this, we got very close.
I was sure that this is who Shayne should be with, and subconsciously I wouldn't let it go.
Truth be told, Nicole didn't have a chance when they first started dating and I didn't even know it; and it was all me.
Nicole came into our lives three years ago at a time when Shayne was just starting to turn his life around after a spiral of poor choices, friends with their own agendas and lack of confidence.
Beautiful and pleasant from the start, it was easy to like Nicole. Shayne certainly seemed happy. Isn't that what every mother wants for her child? I thought it was; I also thought that I was immune to being anything but fair.
Polar opposites from the start; Nicole is strong and secure, beautiful and assertive. Those are qualities that I never was..until recently. Assertive I mean. hahahaha
Nicole and I have always gotten along although I still had my relationship with Shayne's ex-fiance. I thought it was fine. Shayne and she remained friends for a time, and for someone as sensitive as I am, it never occur ed to me that it might upset or intimidate Nicole.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
It was after Shayne and Danielle had a falling out and stopped speaking to each other that I started to realize that there was an issue with my still being in contact with her.
For her part, Nicole handled it by keeping her fears and feelings to herself; never letting on that I was hurting her.
For me, I was concerned with the way I saw the relationship going; Shayne and Nicole bickered a lot, seemed to bite at each other all the time. They never seemed really happy. Never hugging or kissing; just snapping at each other.
It was always in my mind somewhat buried that they might break up and Danielle and Shayne would get back together.
I mean, I knew what was best for my ADULT CHILD. I liked Nicole, but...... I knew best.
Jesus Christ what was I thinking.
Suffice it to say, Shayne and Nicole broke up. They were both carrying too much baggage that they didn't have a chance, and with Nicole feeling like an outsider in our home; I don't' think she thought she had a choice. Until........
It took Nicole breaking up with Shayne for them to both, stop and think about what they had, how they treated each other and how they wanted their life to proceed.
Needless to say, Shayne was devastated with the breakup and Nicole was steadfast on staying apart. It had been just too much for her.
So after my initial relief that lasted a day, Shayne confronted me and asked me point blank if I had wanted all along for this relationship to end. Aghhhhhh it wasn't that I wanted it to end. It was so complicated and jesus christ it was none of my business; but I had made it my business.
How do you make amends for such selfish behavior? I don't know if you can.
I felt so bad......
I saw over the next few weeks the love that my son had for Nicole. It took him almost losing her for me to realize that I had been so out of line in my thoughts and hopes that I was at a loss as to what to do to help.
I know, stay out of it; which is what I did.
I am happy to say that Nicole had second thoughts, realized that she loved Shayne as much as he loved her and they were once again a couple. Only this time, they were more than a couple, they were great together. Sometimes it takes a loss to realize what you had.
That was the case for Shayne and Nicole. Thank God.
It would be a very awkward meeting for Nicole, Matt and I the first time we all got together after the breakup. We were all very nervous but confident that things could move forward.
Then, one early morning not long after they got back together, Nicole texted me and asked if we could talk, about.......Danielle and my relationship with her.
It was the best thing that she could have done. We spoke openly and honestly about how she felt about it all and how intimidated that relationship had made her feel. She felt like an intruder in our home. She was hurt and confused and rightfully so.
That was unacceptable.
I make it a point in my life to make everyone feel comfortable and welcome in my home and with our family. I had failed so miserably and didn't know how to make it right.
It was after that that our relationship was unhindered, close and where it belonged.
I would like to think that Nicole loves me as much as I love her. I couldn't be happier with how things turned out for all involved.
Their wedding is two months away and I am so happy, excited and confident that this is how it should be.
Shayne and Nicole are good for each other. They bring out the best in each other.
So, who is this young woman who is going to marry my son? She is a loyal, loving and caring young lady who says it like it is. She loves her family and her friends and excepts people to take responsibility for their actions.
She is softening in her approach to life, slightly; and is learning how to slow down and appreciate things and not stress quite so much.
This child gets upset when I do my son's laundry or make his lunch, but understands how I am with my family and she now excepts my quirks and idiosyncrasies. She loves me for me as I love her for her.
I look forward to my chats with her over a glass of wine, or two, how she confides in me about her feelings, fears and hopes; how she trust me. And how I trust her.
Nicole is my daughter and that is how it should be.
This woman is going to marry my son. I hold my children very close to my heart and I am confident that she will love and protect him as he will her. Mama's happy.
I have lived my life believing that things happen for a reason and I still believe that still today.
Nicole is where she belongs, with Shayne and with our family.
I have my dress, my shoes and my piece of mind.
I'm sorry to say, that wasn't always the case. as my heart was still with Shayne's ex-fiance.
Shayne was engaged when he went to Iraq in 2003 and was single a few months after he came home. I got very close to this young woman during their brief time together and my heart wasn't ready to let her go.
We had shared the fears of having a loved one at war. It was a very difficult time for me and having someone in the same position as me, someone who understood, was very comforting. As a result of this, we got very close.
I was sure that this is who Shayne should be with, and subconsciously I wouldn't let it go.
Truth be told, Nicole didn't have a chance when they first started dating and I didn't even know it; and it was all me.
Nicole came into our lives three years ago at a time when Shayne was just starting to turn his life around after a spiral of poor choices, friends with their own agendas and lack of confidence.
Beautiful and pleasant from the start, it was easy to like Nicole. Shayne certainly seemed happy. Isn't that what every mother wants for her child? I thought it was; I also thought that I was immune to being anything but fair.
Polar opposites from the start; Nicole is strong and secure, beautiful and assertive. Those are qualities that I never was..until recently. Assertive I mean. hahahaha
Nicole and I have always gotten along although I still had my relationship with Shayne's ex-fiance. I thought it was fine. Shayne and she remained friends for a time, and for someone as sensitive as I am, it never occur ed to me that it might upset or intimidate Nicole.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
It was after Shayne and Danielle had a falling out and stopped speaking to each other that I started to realize that there was an issue with my still being in contact with her.
For her part, Nicole handled it by keeping her fears and feelings to herself; never letting on that I was hurting her.
For me, I was concerned with the way I saw the relationship going; Shayne and Nicole bickered a lot, seemed to bite at each other all the time. They never seemed really happy. Never hugging or kissing; just snapping at each other.
It was always in my mind somewhat buried that they might break up and Danielle and Shayne would get back together.
I mean, I knew what was best for my ADULT CHILD. I liked Nicole, but...... I knew best.
Jesus Christ what was I thinking.
Suffice it to say, Shayne and Nicole broke up. They were both carrying too much baggage that they didn't have a chance, and with Nicole feeling like an outsider in our home; I don't' think she thought she had a choice. Until........
It took Nicole breaking up with Shayne for them to both, stop and think about what they had, how they treated each other and how they wanted their life to proceed.
Needless to say, Shayne was devastated with the breakup and Nicole was steadfast on staying apart. It had been just too much for her.
So after my initial relief that lasted a day, Shayne confronted me and asked me point blank if I had wanted all along for this relationship to end. Aghhhhhh it wasn't that I wanted it to end. It was so complicated and jesus christ it was none of my business; but I had made it my business.
How do you make amends for such selfish behavior? I don't know if you can.
I felt so bad......
I saw over the next few weeks the love that my son had for Nicole. It took him almost losing her for me to realize that I had been so out of line in my thoughts and hopes that I was at a loss as to what to do to help.
I know, stay out of it; which is what I did.
I am happy to say that Nicole had second thoughts, realized that she loved Shayne as much as he loved her and they were once again a couple. Only this time, they were more than a couple, they were great together. Sometimes it takes a loss to realize what you had.
That was the case for Shayne and Nicole. Thank God.
It would be a very awkward meeting for Nicole, Matt and I the first time we all got together after the breakup. We were all very nervous but confident that things could move forward.
Then, one early morning not long after they got back together, Nicole texted me and asked if we could talk, about.......Danielle and my relationship with her.
It was the best thing that she could have done. We spoke openly and honestly about how she felt about it all and how intimidated that relationship had made her feel. She felt like an intruder in our home. She was hurt and confused and rightfully so.
That was unacceptable.
I make it a point in my life to make everyone feel comfortable and welcome in my home and with our family. I had failed so miserably and didn't know how to make it right.
It was after that that our relationship was unhindered, close and where it belonged.
I would like to think that Nicole loves me as much as I love her. I couldn't be happier with how things turned out for all involved.
Their wedding is two months away and I am so happy, excited and confident that this is how it should be.
Shayne and Nicole are good for each other. They bring out the best in each other.
So, who is this young woman who is going to marry my son? She is a loyal, loving and caring young lady who says it like it is. She loves her family and her friends and excepts people to take responsibility for their actions.
She is softening in her approach to life, slightly; and is learning how to slow down and appreciate things and not stress quite so much.
This child gets upset when I do my son's laundry or make his lunch, but understands how I am with my family and she now excepts my quirks and idiosyncrasies. She loves me for me as I love her for her.
I look forward to my chats with her over a glass of wine, or two, how she confides in me about her feelings, fears and hopes; how she trust me. And how I trust her.
Nicole is my daughter and that is how it should be.
This woman is going to marry my son. I hold my children very close to my heart and I am confident that she will love and protect him as he will her. Mama's happy.
I have lived my life believing that things happen for a reason and I still believe that still today.
Nicole is where she belongs, with Shayne and with our family.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Dress shopping. I'd rather give birth; naturally.
Clothes shopping; the inalienable rite of every women around the globe. If we are happy, sad, celebrating or mourning, we, as a gender, shop.
I personally hate it with a passion I used to save for my yearly visits to the gynie.
Of course, that declaration could get me kicked out of just about every women's organization I can think of.
Now, it goes without saying that I need to shop from time to time. So, when the time comes for me to retire a ten-year old shirt or purchase new pants, I choose to buy most of my clothes on line or at the one store that I am comfortable in; Fashion Bug. Suffice it to say, I am a very classy lady.
As for dress shopping; forget it. I have not worn a dress in at least 18 years. I mean really, someone might see my legs; which actually don't' look like legs at all. More like the trunks of an old oak.
Unfortunately, there comes a time in all our lives where we are faced with doing something that we don't want to do; something that rocks our last nerve and sends shivers down our spins. It appears that I needed to purchase a dress. Yup, a dress; well a gown really.
Our oldest son is getting married and my future daughter in law, as well as my husband, requested that I not wear pants. What could I say? Could I be so selfish as to put my fears in front of my husband and daughter in laws wished? Trust me, I thought about it but ultimately, I decided that this is something I could do.
I am a mature woman of 54 years, I have raised three children and have worked all my life; I think I could muster up enough courage to buy a frigin dress.
So, for months I searched the internet looking for the perfect gown to wear to my son's wedding. It didn't occur to me to go shopping in real stores. As it was I going to order the dress of my dreams in two sizes smaller than I am now.
I was sure that I could shed enough weight to achieve this. Reality and fantasy get very fuzzy in my mind sometimes. To put that much stress on myself is just stupid. Partially because the more stressed I get, the more I eat, thus the more I gain.
All my searching paid off; I found the gown that I wanted to wear. It was beautiful; off the shoulders, age appropriate and low and behold, it came in my size.
I was so excited. I was going to purchasing this dress, lose the weight and look stunning, sexy and sassy; no frump girl for me. Every day I went on line to gaze at my almost-purchased dress.
I would fantasize at how awesome I was going to look. 80 pounds less and hot and sizzly; that was going to me. NOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
I put off buying the dress because the weight never stated coming off and it didn't occur to me to order the dress in the appropriate size. That would have too easy. Well, little did I know that three to four months is required for ordering a designer dress.
That settled it, I was screwed. Not only had I blown my opportunity to lose the 300+, give or take, extra pounds that I was carrying, but now I didn't have a dress either. Shit, I was going to have to go to an actual store with real salespeople and dressing rooms and mirrors and strangers..... Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I wanted to run away and die.
Since I was not about to go alone, I enlisted my daughter in laws help. Nicole loves to shop and she is very good at it. So, on a snowy day in January we were off on a mission to buy the mama a dress.
I was nervous and excited all at the same time. I know that Nicole would never let me get anything that didn't look good, so I knew I was in good hands.
I had also approached her with the idea of a very formal pant suit. I was positive that I wouldn't find a dress that didn't make me look like the hippo in Fantasia. You remember her don't you. Dancing so delicately in a little pink tutu with the alligators.
Yup, that would be me.....a hippo in heals. But being the kind and compassionate young woman that she is, she agreed to pants IF I couldn't find a dress.
Now, with the news telling us every day that there is an epidemic of obesity in this country, you would think that I would be able to find a dress, in my size, to try on. Wrong......
We went to the mall and to all the BIG named department stores. The best I could do was find a dress, three sizes too small. Excitement doesn't describe how I felt when I was actually able to get the dress on and zipped half way.
Of course this made my breasts squish flat to my body somewhat resembling cow patties on a field on a hot summer day. But, I got the idea of the dress and I liked it. I didn't think I looked like shit in it.
I was prepared to buy the dress, in that size and take the extra pounds off in the two months left until the wedding.
Thank the lord that common sense prevailed, and Nicole, very gently told me no, I would find a dress in my size. Needless to say, I didn't get a dress that day.
Four stores and only one dress to try on. I was so upset. With me, with the stores and with me, again. What the hell was I going to do now?
I'll tell you what I was going to do, I asked my husband to go with me the following weekend. Come hell or high water I was going to get a damn dress if it killed me.
To say I was anxious is an understatement. I was a mess the morning that we were set to go. I tried in every way I could to pick a fight with Matt so we wouldn't have to go. That didn't work. I underestimated my man. He knew exactly what I was doing and wouldn't take the bait.
After discussing the choices, or lack there of, we decided on Davids Bridals. We were hoping that there would be at least a few dresses for me to try on.
What an experience. Once in the door we were in a sea of at least twenty young girls, all giddy with excitement at the prospect of finding the perfect prom dress. Not one of these girls weighed more than 100 pounds. I wanted to turn around right then and there and leave.
Good God what was I thinking.
Once we were able to wade through the teenie boppers we were met by a very pleasant woman asking me what it was I was looking for. I informed her I was the mother of the groom and needed a gown.
Back wall and to the left, that's were we were to look. Guess what, I found lots of dresses, in my size. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
With my heart lifted, Matt and I pull out three dresses for me to try on and off to the dressing rooms we went.
Since it was a weekend and very crowded, each person in need of a dressing room was assigned one by a specific salesperson.
Stephanie was very pleasant and she escorted us to room 30. It was tucked away at the back of the store away from the screaming and giddy girls. Thank the lord.
Let the fashion show begin. Matt took a seat in our little cubby and I proceeded to strip down and try on some dresses.
Fashions have changed so much over the years since I wore dresses. The first dress I tried on was pretty. It was a periwinkle blue sleeveless dress with jacket. The top was too big and the tummy area was too small but I did like it; and so did Matt.
Things were looking up. One dress on and two to go. My second choice was a champagne satin number. I loved this dress but the more I looked at it the more I realized it was just too much dress for a lady of my size. If I put a paper tab out of my head I would have resembled a Hershey kiss. The third dress that I had chosen made me look like a 50 year old woman who was trying to look 25.
Not knowing what to do, Stephanie suggested we look through the dresses again; maybe we would see something else that would peak my interest. She was right, well kind of.
The first little number that I found to try on was an electric blue strapless satin dress with a bolero jacket. Lord have mercy I looked awful. I walked out of the dressing room to show my husband and without missing a beat he said, "Jesus you look like a Vampire". He was right. I hadn't thought of that but he was right. I had thought I looked like the sheets on a king sized bed in a sleezie four-hour hotel.
The next little diddie that I tried on was just as awful. I didn't even get out of the dressing before Matt very matter of factly said, "Nope".
Now, the next choice was one that I didn't like but Stephanie assured me that it was very flattering style. Picture this; rows and rows of fabric about three inches wide each, layered over each other. When I put this little frock on I looked like a venetian blind for an enormous bay window. It was awful.
Back into my little room for the last dress of the day.
I was convinced that this dress was not going to fit me because of the style. Once again I was proven wrong. Not only did it fit, but I loved it. I actually smiled. With all the other dresses, even the two that I liked, I frowned, sighed and made faces in the mirror. This time, I actually smiled my biggest smile and could actually see myself the day of the wedding in this gown.
With butterflies in my stomach, I walked out of the dressing room, turned to my husband and just beamed. Much to my relief, Matt not only loved me in this dress, but was almost speechless. He told me I looked beautiful.
Ladies, I don't care how long you are married, those words are music to a women's ears. He loved it, I loved it and it fit.
My search was over; I had a dress and I loved it. I had survived and came out unscathed. Life was good.
Jesus Lord, I have one more child to get married...... Here's hoping that he doesn't want me to wear a dress too.... I don't think I could do this again.
I personally hate it with a passion I used to save for my yearly visits to the gynie.
Of course, that declaration could get me kicked out of just about every women's organization I can think of.
Now, it goes without saying that I need to shop from time to time. So, when the time comes for me to retire a ten-year old shirt or purchase new pants, I choose to buy most of my clothes on line or at the one store that I am comfortable in; Fashion Bug. Suffice it to say, I am a very classy lady.
As for dress shopping; forget it. I have not worn a dress in at least 18 years. I mean really, someone might see my legs; which actually don't' look like legs at all. More like the trunks of an old oak.
Unfortunately, there comes a time in all our lives where we are faced with doing something that we don't want to do; something that rocks our last nerve and sends shivers down our spins. It appears that I needed to purchase a dress. Yup, a dress; well a gown really.
Our oldest son is getting married and my future daughter in law, as well as my husband, requested that I not wear pants. What could I say? Could I be so selfish as to put my fears in front of my husband and daughter in laws wished? Trust me, I thought about it but ultimately, I decided that this is something I could do.
I am a mature woman of 54 years, I have raised three children and have worked all my life; I think I could muster up enough courage to buy a frigin dress.
So, for months I searched the internet looking for the perfect gown to wear to my son's wedding. It didn't occur to me to go shopping in real stores. As it was I going to order the dress of my dreams in two sizes smaller than I am now.
I was sure that I could shed enough weight to achieve this. Reality and fantasy get very fuzzy in my mind sometimes. To put that much stress on myself is just stupid. Partially because the more stressed I get, the more I eat, thus the more I gain.
All my searching paid off; I found the gown that I wanted to wear. It was beautiful; off the shoulders, age appropriate and low and behold, it came in my size.
I was so excited. I was going to purchasing this dress, lose the weight and look stunning, sexy and sassy; no frump girl for me. Every day I went on line to gaze at my almost-purchased dress.
I would fantasize at how awesome I was going to look. 80 pounds less and hot and sizzly; that was going to me. NOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
I put off buying the dress because the weight never stated coming off and it didn't occur to me to order the dress in the appropriate size. That would have too easy. Well, little did I know that three to four months is required for ordering a designer dress.
That settled it, I was screwed. Not only had I blown my opportunity to lose the 300+, give or take, extra pounds that I was carrying, but now I didn't have a dress either. Shit, I was going to have to go to an actual store with real salespeople and dressing rooms and mirrors and strangers..... Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I wanted to run away and die.
Since I was not about to go alone, I enlisted my daughter in laws help. Nicole loves to shop and she is very good at it. So, on a snowy day in January we were off on a mission to buy the mama a dress.
I was nervous and excited all at the same time. I know that Nicole would never let me get anything that didn't look good, so I knew I was in good hands.
I had also approached her with the idea of a very formal pant suit. I was positive that I wouldn't find a dress that didn't make me look like the hippo in Fantasia. You remember her don't you. Dancing so delicately in a little pink tutu with the alligators.
Yup, that would be me.....a hippo in heals. But being the kind and compassionate young woman that she is, she agreed to pants IF I couldn't find a dress.
Now, with the news telling us every day that there is an epidemic of obesity in this country, you would think that I would be able to find a dress, in my size, to try on. Wrong......
We went to the mall and to all the BIG named department stores. The best I could do was find a dress, three sizes too small. Excitement doesn't describe how I felt when I was actually able to get the dress on and zipped half way.
Of course this made my breasts squish flat to my body somewhat resembling cow patties on a field on a hot summer day. But, I got the idea of the dress and I liked it. I didn't think I looked like shit in it.
I was prepared to buy the dress, in that size and take the extra pounds off in the two months left until the wedding.
Thank the lord that common sense prevailed, and Nicole, very gently told me no, I would find a dress in my size. Needless to say, I didn't get a dress that day.
Four stores and only one dress to try on. I was so upset. With me, with the stores and with me, again. What the hell was I going to do now?
I'll tell you what I was going to do, I asked my husband to go with me the following weekend. Come hell or high water I was going to get a damn dress if it killed me.
To say I was anxious is an understatement. I was a mess the morning that we were set to go. I tried in every way I could to pick a fight with Matt so we wouldn't have to go. That didn't work. I underestimated my man. He knew exactly what I was doing and wouldn't take the bait.
After discussing the choices, or lack there of, we decided on Davids Bridals. We were hoping that there would be at least a few dresses for me to try on.
What an experience. Once in the door we were in a sea of at least twenty young girls, all giddy with excitement at the prospect of finding the perfect prom dress. Not one of these girls weighed more than 100 pounds. I wanted to turn around right then and there and leave.
Good God what was I thinking.
Once we were able to wade through the teenie boppers we were met by a very pleasant woman asking me what it was I was looking for. I informed her I was the mother of the groom and needed a gown.
Back wall and to the left, that's were we were to look. Guess what, I found lots of dresses, in my size. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
With my heart lifted, Matt and I pull out three dresses for me to try on and off to the dressing rooms we went.
Since it was a weekend and very crowded, each person in need of a dressing room was assigned one by a specific salesperson.
Stephanie was very pleasant and she escorted us to room 30. It was tucked away at the back of the store away from the screaming and giddy girls. Thank the lord.
Let the fashion show begin. Matt took a seat in our little cubby and I proceeded to strip down and try on some dresses.
Fashions have changed so much over the years since I wore dresses. The first dress I tried on was pretty. It was a periwinkle blue sleeveless dress with jacket. The top was too big and the tummy area was too small but I did like it; and so did Matt.
Things were looking up. One dress on and two to go. My second choice was a champagne satin number. I loved this dress but the more I looked at it the more I realized it was just too much dress for a lady of my size. If I put a paper tab out of my head I would have resembled a Hershey kiss. The third dress that I had chosen made me look like a 50 year old woman who was trying to look 25.
Not knowing what to do, Stephanie suggested we look through the dresses again; maybe we would see something else that would peak my interest. She was right, well kind of.
The first little number that I found to try on was an electric blue strapless satin dress with a bolero jacket. Lord have mercy I looked awful. I walked out of the dressing room to show my husband and without missing a beat he said, "Jesus you look like a Vampire". He was right. I hadn't thought of that but he was right. I had thought I looked like the sheets on a king sized bed in a sleezie four-hour hotel.
The next little diddie that I tried on was just as awful. I didn't even get out of the dressing before Matt very matter of factly said, "Nope".
Now, the next choice was one that I didn't like but Stephanie assured me that it was very flattering style. Picture this; rows and rows of fabric about three inches wide each, layered over each other. When I put this little frock on I looked like a venetian blind for an enormous bay window. It was awful.
Back into my little room for the last dress of the day.
I was convinced that this dress was not going to fit me because of the style. Once again I was proven wrong. Not only did it fit, but I loved it. I actually smiled. With all the other dresses, even the two that I liked, I frowned, sighed and made faces in the mirror. This time, I actually smiled my biggest smile and could actually see myself the day of the wedding in this gown.
With butterflies in my stomach, I walked out of the dressing room, turned to my husband and just beamed. Much to my relief, Matt not only loved me in this dress, but was almost speechless. He told me I looked beautiful.
Ladies, I don't care how long you are married, those words are music to a women's ears. He loved it, I loved it and it fit.
My search was over; I had a dress and I loved it. I had survived and came out unscathed. Life was good.
Jesus Lord, I have one more child to get married...... Here's hoping that he doesn't want me to wear a dress too.... I don't think I could do this again.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Me my weight and I
I have spent most of my life in a love/hate relationship with my body. The picture that I have on this blog, me at 17 in an orange bathing suit top and low slung jean shorts, is the only picture I could find with me in a pose WITHOUT my hands in front of my stomach. I thought it was huge.
If only I still had that body now....... Hmmmmm, if only what? Would my life have been different if my body mass had been smaller? Does a jiggly stomach make a person less worthy of love and affection? Would I be rich if I had breasts that didn't require steel in the under wire and a stomach flat enough to bounce a quarter on?
Sounds like the housewives of New Jersey doesn't it? Blahhhhh Those women I have no desire to be like. We need to ship them off to... well, I don't know to where but not here.
There is a place in my mind that believes that if I were thinner my problems would be smaller. As if problems and body size went hand in hand. I know it doesn't work that way, but still.....
Why do we all put so much stock in our weight? I realize health is a big issue; but it is so much more than that.
Society does it's part for sure. Watch any show, any commercial and any ad. Thin women sell cars, jewelery and perfume. Heavy women sell garbage bags and diarrhea medicine.
Calista Flockhart is too think but Audry Hepburn was perfect. I don't see the difference in their bodies. And what's more, who cares.
Jessica Simpson is a beautiful woman who happens to be curvy but she is labeled fat. What the hell are we doing?
I really don't give a rats ass that Kirsty Alley is fat again and still as vulgar as always. Can I get a show every time I loose and gain weight? If that's what it takes, show me the money. I am a pro, a champ at yo-yo weight and dieting.
Big men on the red carpet are described as classy and sexy while a woman weighing in at over 110 is "putting on weight" and "looking puffy and hefty". It makes me crazy.
I believe that Kelly Osbourne said it best. I'll paraphrase. “People were more upset with my weight then my drug abuse. They spit on me, called me names and hated me for the weight but not the drugs.”
And ladies and gentlemen, I must buy right into it at some level because I put the same pressure on myself.
I see men, big men, feeling all sexy and hot with their beer bellies hanging over their bathing trunks, all the while drooling over sexy women on the beach. hmmmmm yup, they want you dude.
I guarantee you these same men are complaining that their wives have "let themselves go".
It's the double standard my friends and I do it too. Men can be over weight but not me. The world puts that shit on all women, I only put it on myself. I personally believe women can and are beautiful regardless of size; just not me.
I came into this world at a whopping 5lbs. You would never know it now to look at me. It's like i hit the air and expanded. You know those wafer's you can eat with a glass of water to make you full. Yup, I puffed up like the Stay Puff Marshmallow man.
I wasn't always heavy. When I was in high school I had a nice body and didn't know it.
My mind said that if you aren't thin, which I wasn't, you must be fat; which I wasn't. I was curvy. For me there wasn't anything in between. Fat or thin, those were the options.
I couldn't understand why guys wanted to sleep with me? Apparently they liked my tunas. Yup, breasts were called tunas when I was in high school, among other things, of course.
Tunas, tits and tatas. What's with the T's??
It was during my marriage to Gary that my weight ballooned to numbers that I never thought I would see. The 200's.
Now I'm just lumpy.
I have always tried to live my life treating people the way I would like to be treated. I have been complimented on my personality and kindness to people all my life. I am very proud of that, but on a superficial level, I would love to be told that I was the most beautiful, sexy woman to ever live. Screw the personality... hehehehe not really.
I wonder if I could bribe someone to say that. I have always wanted to be called sexy. Alas, most people call me mama or mom now.
My yearbook actually has several comments written in there about what a great personality I have and not to ever change. You would think that I would have taken that as a compliment. Nope, I took it as you are a nice person with a dog ugly face and a blubber butt.
I tell you I am certifiable.
What is it that just the thought of having more flesh then someone else is enough to put us over the edge. We are ridiculed, stared at and mocked; all because of the amount of skin we have. If nothing else, we are all those things in our own minds if no one elses.
For me, my lack of confidence in my face has led me to live my life believing that I am less worthy of other women solely due to my weight. Ugly face, fat body equals not worthy.
That's bullshit but it still creeps into my mind.
If I see people from my school days, especially guys, my first thought is to turn and run the other way. Well, maybe not run; that would trigger an earthquake that would put the 1960 quake in Chile to shame.
I'm older and fatter than I was in school. Wait a minute, aren't the guys I went to school with older and heavier also? Did everyone from the class of 1974 stop aging but me? Did I miss the meeting where everyone got into a time machine.
Of course they didn't.
I actually saw two guys I graduated with over this past summer one of them being the man I was madly in love with in the seventh grade. I went out of my way for 20 minutes not to make eye contact; my God I might actually have to talk to them. My heart was pounding in my chest; they might notice that I had aged, gotten heavier, had wrinkles.
As it turned out, I did speak to them and they never laughed or asked me why I was so huge. It was a nice 20 minute exchange.
And come to think of it, why would they care if I did get fat? My mind is a strange place.
I amaze myself sometimes with my mindset.
Of course I had aged, so had they. THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS. In all honesty it wasn't that I had aged, it was because I had gotten fat.
The pressure that I/we put on ourselves is nothing less than self destructive.
My mind tells me that it is ok for men to get heavier but not for women.
Take my husband for example. I got heavier, he got heavier. Although he would like to loose weight for health reasons, he doesn't feel that his weight defines him. I, on the other hand, feel it defines me. I am not
I don't love Matt any less due to his weight but I fear that he will love me less due to mine. I forget that we have a life together that was built on laughter, tears and enough ups and downs to entitle us an award for not giving up.
Where the hell is the logic there?
People change as they grow older. Marriages aren't just about what they were when the relationship started.
To grow old together means change; and for many of us, weight gain.
The breasts that I thought defined me as a teen are no longer the delightful melons that they once were. Gravity has taken over and they now resemble partially deflated balloons; put that together with my stomach that I have to tuck into my pants and there you have me.
Saggy, lumpy and droopy.
Shit, that sounds like three of the dwarfs.
Thus my life has consisted of one diet or another.
The scale. I will live and die by that damn thing.
When I succeed on a diet and can see my feet past my stomach I'm elated
Look I actually have toes.
Another good sign when I'm dieting is when my boobs stick out farther than my belly.
The thought of me sashaying across the bedroom in a teddy is frightening. Matt would have to look at my knees to see my tatas. How romantic.
One of my friends said to me years ago that she would like to loose enough weight so she could straddle a man and not get leg cramps. Hey, that works for me.
I am a pro at dieting. I have lost and gained more weight than the national debt if it were calculated in pounds. I can tell you the point value of any food, the fat content and the sodium levels of ever item in a grocery store.
What I can't seem to do is stop eating. I eat to sooth hurt feelings, celebrate an accomplishment or just because; well because I can.
Besides my absolute love for food, I am what you call an emotional eater. If I am upset, sad, lonely or any other emotion you can think of; I eat. When I am in one of my lows I can out eat ny sumo wrestler you put me up against. I kid you not.
Keep the sweets and give me the food; although I do love ice cream.
My love for sandwiches is historical. Growing up my mom would make our lunch for us, always wrapped in wax paper and always with butter on them. Every sandwich, regardless of what kind, had butter. I still make them that way; is there any other way?
Spiced ham and butter on home made white bread. God I'm in heaven. No wonder I am still fighting my weight.
I loose 80 pounds only to gain back 85. It seems like a never-ending battle for me.
As I have said repeatedly, I need to embrace who I am; fat or thin, old or young.
It is how I define myself that will show others how to perceive me.
I know that, I just need to embrace it and do it.
I am my own worst enemy.
If only I still had that body now....... Hmmmmm, if only what? Would my life have been different if my body mass had been smaller? Does a jiggly stomach make a person less worthy of love and affection? Would I be rich if I had breasts that didn't require steel in the under wire and a stomach flat enough to bounce a quarter on?
Sounds like the housewives of New Jersey doesn't it? Blahhhhh Those women I have no desire to be like. We need to ship them off to... well, I don't know to where but not here.
There is a place in my mind that believes that if I were thinner my problems would be smaller. As if problems and body size went hand in hand. I know it doesn't work that way, but still.....
Why do we all put so much stock in our weight? I realize health is a big issue; but it is so much more than that.
Society does it's part for sure. Watch any show, any commercial and any ad. Thin women sell cars, jewelery and perfume. Heavy women sell garbage bags and diarrhea medicine.
Calista Flockhart is too think but Audry Hepburn was perfect. I don't see the difference in their bodies. And what's more, who cares.
Jessica Simpson is a beautiful woman who happens to be curvy but she is labeled fat. What the hell are we doing?
I really don't give a rats ass that Kirsty Alley is fat again and still as vulgar as always. Can I get a show every time I loose and gain weight? If that's what it takes, show me the money. I am a pro, a champ at yo-yo weight and dieting.
Big men on the red carpet are described as classy and sexy while a woman weighing in at over 110 is "putting on weight" and "looking puffy and hefty". It makes me crazy.
I believe that Kelly Osbourne said it best. I'll paraphrase. “People were more upset with my weight then my drug abuse. They spit on me, called me names and hated me for the weight but not the drugs.”
And ladies and gentlemen, I must buy right into it at some level because I put the same pressure on myself.
I see men, big men, feeling all sexy and hot with their beer bellies hanging over their bathing trunks, all the while drooling over sexy women on the beach. hmmmmm yup, they want you dude.
I guarantee you these same men are complaining that their wives have "let themselves go".
It's the double standard my friends and I do it too. Men can be over weight but not me. The world puts that shit on all women, I only put it on myself. I personally believe women can and are beautiful regardless of size; just not me.
I came into this world at a whopping 5lbs. You would never know it now to look at me. It's like i hit the air and expanded. You know those wafer's you can eat with a glass of water to make you full. Yup, I puffed up like the Stay Puff Marshmallow man.
I wasn't always heavy. When I was in high school I had a nice body and didn't know it.
My mind said that if you aren't thin, which I wasn't, you must be fat; which I wasn't. I was curvy. For me there wasn't anything in between. Fat or thin, those were the options.
I couldn't understand why guys wanted to sleep with me? Apparently they liked my tunas. Yup, breasts were called tunas when I was in high school, among other things, of course.
Tunas, tits and tatas. What's with the T's??
It was during my marriage to Gary that my weight ballooned to numbers that I never thought I would see. The 200's.
Now I'm just lumpy.
I have always tried to live my life treating people the way I would like to be treated. I have been complimented on my personality and kindness to people all my life. I am very proud of that, but on a superficial level, I would love to be told that I was the most beautiful, sexy woman to ever live. Screw the personality... hehehehe not really.
I wonder if I could bribe someone to say that. I have always wanted to be called sexy. Alas, most people call me mama or mom now.
My yearbook actually has several comments written in there about what a great personality I have and not to ever change. You would think that I would have taken that as a compliment. Nope, I took it as you are a nice person with a dog ugly face and a blubber butt.
I tell you I am certifiable.
What is it that just the thought of having more flesh then someone else is enough to put us over the edge. We are ridiculed, stared at and mocked; all because of the amount of skin we have. If nothing else, we are all those things in our own minds if no one elses.
For me, my lack of confidence in my face has led me to live my life believing that I am less worthy of other women solely due to my weight. Ugly face, fat body equals not worthy.
That's bullshit but it still creeps into my mind.
If I see people from my school days, especially guys, my first thought is to turn and run the other way. Well, maybe not run; that would trigger an earthquake that would put the 1960 quake in Chile to shame.
I'm older and fatter than I was in school. Wait a minute, aren't the guys I went to school with older and heavier also? Did everyone from the class of 1974 stop aging but me? Did I miss the meeting where everyone got into a time machine.
Of course they didn't.
I actually saw two guys I graduated with over this past summer one of them being the man I was madly in love with in the seventh grade. I went out of my way for 20 minutes not to make eye contact; my God I might actually have to talk to them. My heart was pounding in my chest; they might notice that I had aged, gotten heavier, had wrinkles.
As it turned out, I did speak to them and they never laughed or asked me why I was so huge. It was a nice 20 minute exchange.
And come to think of it, why would they care if I did get fat? My mind is a strange place.
I amaze myself sometimes with my mindset.
Of course I had aged, so had they. THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS. In all honesty it wasn't that I had aged, it was because I had gotten fat.
The pressure that I/we put on ourselves is nothing less than self destructive.
My mind tells me that it is ok for men to get heavier but not for women.
Take my husband for example. I got heavier, he got heavier. Although he would like to loose weight for health reasons, he doesn't feel that his weight defines him. I, on the other hand, feel it defines me. I am not
I don't love Matt any less due to his weight but I fear that he will love me less due to mine. I forget that we have a life together that was built on laughter, tears and enough ups and downs to entitle us an award for not giving up.
Where the hell is the logic there?
People change as they grow older. Marriages aren't just about what they were when the relationship started.
To grow old together means change; and for many of us, weight gain.
The breasts that I thought defined me as a teen are no longer the delightful melons that they once were. Gravity has taken over and they now resemble partially deflated balloons; put that together with my stomach that I have to tuck into my pants and there you have me.
Saggy, lumpy and droopy.
Shit, that sounds like three of the dwarfs.
Thus my life has consisted of one diet or another.
The scale. I will live and die by that damn thing.
When I succeed on a diet and can see my feet past my stomach I'm elated
Look I actually have toes.
Another good sign when I'm dieting is when my boobs stick out farther than my belly.
The thought of me sashaying across the bedroom in a teddy is frightening. Matt would have to look at my knees to see my tatas. How romantic.
One of my friends said to me years ago that she would like to loose enough weight so she could straddle a man and not get leg cramps. Hey, that works for me.
I am a pro at dieting. I have lost and gained more weight than the national debt if it were calculated in pounds. I can tell you the point value of any food, the fat content and the sodium levels of ever item in a grocery store.
What I can't seem to do is stop eating. I eat to sooth hurt feelings, celebrate an accomplishment or just because; well because I can.
Besides my absolute love for food, I am what you call an emotional eater. If I am upset, sad, lonely or any other emotion you can think of; I eat. When I am in one of my lows I can out eat ny sumo wrestler you put me up against. I kid you not.
Keep the sweets and give me the food; although I do love ice cream.
My love for sandwiches is historical. Growing up my mom would make our lunch for us, always wrapped in wax paper and always with butter on them. Every sandwich, regardless of what kind, had butter. I still make them that way; is there any other way?
Spiced ham and butter on home made white bread. God I'm in heaven. No wonder I am still fighting my weight.
I loose 80 pounds only to gain back 85. It seems like a never-ending battle for me.
As I have said repeatedly, I need to embrace who I am; fat or thin, old or young.
It is how I define myself that will show others how to perceive me.
I know that, I just need to embrace it and do it.
I am my own worst enemy.
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