squishisms.com

The number of contributers at inittogymit is current (capped!) at 100.  Until the number of regular contributers dies down – you will have to deal with continuing to receive fattyfatfat updates here.

I fit into a size smaller pair of jeans this weekend.  The moment they zipped up, I felt so empowered – so motivated.  I wanted to go right back to the gym and do another couple miles and couple hundred crunches…

But later – I used those nice new jeans as justifications for calling movie theater popcorn ‘lunch’ and, when I was inevitably hungry again a couple hours later – I used them to justify the fried chicken strips…etc etc etc.

Today – three full days later, those jeans are a little tighter than they were.

Or are they?

Maybe I’m just paranoid.  Maybe I’m jinxing myself – maybe I am just determined to be cynical and give myself reason to continue this hopeless cycle of  working soooo hard to accomplish something – and then justifying myself into taking four steps backwards.  Or maybe I just think I am…

I think the real issue is that I feel GUILTY for eating things I enjoy – for eating when I am hungry.  Which makes me defensive – even in my own head, against myself – and rebellious. “Pistachio Pistachio from Ben&Jerry’s – no matter how delicious – is BAD for you, Amanda.”  followed by “Screw you, Mr. Man – Imma eat this ice cream.  So THERE!”  and then a few seconds later “I can – because I’m not DIETING, I’m just trying to be healthy – and I AM losing weight.”

But the “Mr. Man” isn’t anyone – it’s ME.  (Don’t ask why the voice in my head is male – I don’t know and I’m not interested in the psychoanalytical possibilities it could represent.)  I piss myself off.

I am convinced that I have to go hungry, and give up everything I love, to lose this weight.  And I was too ashamed to admit that it is about the weight now.  I am fat.  Not obese – but more than chubby.  And I am terrified that all this work will be for nothing.  That I’ll give up and just. stay. fat.

“Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.”  I read that on a blog once – I think it was Courtni’s – and she’s right.  And I keep repeating it in my head like a  mantra – but only after the couple fistfuls of honey roasted peanuts, which came after the granola bar with peanut butter/almonds/cranberries, that I ate after my crazy huge salad for lunch, which was only a couple hours after my fruit cup… etc.  (Cows live off grass too.)

So all I know to do is to keep on Gym’ing it.  To keep forcing myself to get off the couch, out of the computer room, and out the door.  To get over my fear of the Other People in the gym and go anyway.  To walk my dogs further and further every day.  And hope that maybe this is a metaphor for everything else in my life – and once I reach my physical goals all the other shit will either start falling into place or at least be more bearable.

Which is really just justification for not dealing with the other shit now…

I wrote a blog today about pooping. *smh*

Sorry, had to get that out before I could move on.

I am feeling much better. I am not quite there, not quite over the finish line on my journey toward ‘Fine’, but much closer to it. In the homestretch, as it were. Which may or may not have to do with it being SEVENTY FIVE DAYS til Juneteenth. *cue heart racing again* I am |thisclose| to having at least a single bouquet finished, and all my invites are stamped and addressed and will go out tomorrow. Screw the checkmark, I drew a thick black line through that line-item with a friggen sharpie. DONE AND DONE. They aren’t perfect – but they’re mine, so they don’t have to be.

It might have to do with FINALLY having people over. Just a few, but enough to make me feel like I am part of something bigger than this house. Part of something OTHER than this house. This house which still isn’t completely unpacked or put together – which makes me want to cry, but I deal. Only so much a girl can do – and I promised myself I wouldn’t stress myself sick anymore. It was nice to have people here. To know that they don’t begrudge us our long hiatus due to finances and driving issues. And it made me feel like a grown up, if that makes sense, to have enough room to seat them all, plus us and our two dogs.

We won’t talk about the fact that I wore a hoodie most of the night. I’m already dealing with that.

It might have to do with this newfound motivation, determination and accountability. It might be that I decided that Work. Just. Isn’t. Worth. It. and let go. It’s someone else’s baby now – and I’ve never claimed to be a good babysitter. It might be that the wedding is 75 days away. The rest of my life starts in 75 days – and I am both ready and absolutelynotready for it to be here already.

It might be that I was reminded how rock solid Robbie and I are. How good a fit we are.

It might be that I spent an hour on the phone with my little sister.

It might be that Bauer is maybe, finally, getting the whole leash-training thing.

It might be that I went and looked at the boat today and everything I wanted is possible – and the owner is glad I’m not THAT Bride. (Side note: Why rent a party barge for a wedding and then try to make it something else? Something nicer? People boggle my brain.)

It might be that I am done waiting for other people to make an effort to make me happy and am now not only Seeking, but SEIZING my sunshine.

It might be that I have gotten to know my neighbors on at least a sight basis by walking my dog and feel safe in my neighborhood, even if nobody else does.

It might be that Bauer found his cojones and growled at Ken. We think he’s racist – my dog, not Ken.

Or… it just might be that I don’t give a damn anymore. About anything but MY happiness.

/shrug.

I seem to have lost mine.

I’m determined to get it back though.

I’m tired of hating everything all the time. I’m tired of not believing anything will change, because there is nothing *I* can change.

I can change my attitude.

I will do what I need to in order to have the wedding I want. Anyone who takes issue with that is free to leave my life. I will get my dog leash trained. I will get Robbie’s dog pooping without crying, shaking or hesitating. I will keep my temper in check at work without cigarettes. I will lose the weight I want – because that is how I am going to deal with the stress of handling everything else – with exercise.

I was reminded on Friday that I am not alone. That there are people out there who love me, for me, with no strings attached. No expectations of me. They understand my situation and do what they can to help without bemoaning (or broadcasting) their sacrifice for me.

And because they’re there… I will find my optimism.

One of the reasons I am Childfree is that I know myself.  I would be a horrible parent.   I don’t like children for more than an hour or two at a time – and even then only if they are clean and well behaved.  I have no idea how to talk to them.  Conversations with my friends’ kids can often be painful, awkward moments for me…

I like dogs.  They trigger that mooshy/gooshy/maternal emotional response in me.  I have slightly more patience for an animal that literally cannot understand the words coming out of my mouth than a child who just doesn’t want to.  I know how to train and communicate with dogs…

At least I thought I did.

Bauer can sit and shake and stay and lay down and come(sometimes) and drop it, plays fetch and is learning to walk on a proper leash.  He knows what I mean when I tell him to get in his crate, or off the bed or couch.  He is learning to get Up in the car on his own, and didn’t foam at the mouth on Tuesday when we went for a ride without Ginger to comfort him…

But Bauer is not okay.  He is terrified and overly-submissive and agitated.  He cowers even when we try to feed him and hides in his crate if I raise my voice or have any semblance of an angry tone – regardless of who I am speaking to.  It’s worse with Robbie.  He gets too afraid to pee, and then either lets it all go subconsciously in acts of submission to Robbie – or in the middle of playing fetch because he just can’t hold it anymore…  and then he hides and shakes.  Or he’ll follow me step for step and sit right behind my feet when I tell him to go potty.

He’s always been timid.  We’re 90% sure the people before us were beating him.  But it was getting better…

And then we moved.

And suddenly it was much, much worse.  And I have no idea why.  Or how to fix it.  He wasn’t this spooked when we brought him home with us to the apartment – so I don’t think it’s the move itself that has him so worked up…

I feel like a horrible dog-mom.  My baby puppy is scared and hurting and sad and I have no idea how to fix it.  I am not even sure if maybe we haven’t caused it in some way – which makes me want to cry.  Both boys are Over It.  They didn’t sign up for puppy-drama and are frustrated at his lack of understanding that he is Physically Okay and Safe.  At having to clean up his messes when I am not home and… so I feel guilty for bothering the boys.  For bringing this poor, pathetic, high-maintenance dog into their home.

*I* am terrified he’s going to pee on something and irritate/frustrate the boys.  Which has me even more on edge.  And makes it even more stressful – which I know he picks up on.  He is eight months old and 42 pounds.  He is going to be a big dog.  Too big to be so afraid of everything.  I am terrified I won’t be able to fix it and something will happen and he’ll bite someone and have to be put down.  I have nightmares of it… or that I can’t fix it and Robbie decides he can’t deal and leaves us.  Or he asks me to get rid of Bauer/says we have to get rid of him.

I’ve scoured the internet.  I am trying everything listed to fix this.  I am not petting his head or standing over him or hugging him tight like I used to.  I am letting him win at Tug games and making a concentrated effort to not yell or use angry tones.  I am lying down on the floor if he starts to shake or get scared.  I am trying to distract him with a toy if the lying down doesn’t work.  I am making a point to exercise him when I get home: with a walk, or games of fetch/chase in the backyard.  I am making him sit and stay and shake to give him something to do that he is good at and try to build confidence.  I am letting him rest his head on the top of mine and praising him every chance I get.  I am using soft tones when asking if he wants to potty and then walking outside to stand in the middle of the yard in the rain so he doesn’t feel abandoned or punished for peeing.  I crawled with him into the living room to eat – taking a handful out of the bowl and placing it in front of him.  I let him hide in his crate as long as he wants to when he wants to…

But how long before it starts to work?

…and what if it doesn’t?

Is it sad my brain, when faced with the letter ‘V’ – immediately thought of the Sookie Stackhouse novels I’ve been reading?

Then I thought of my friend’s LongDeadVibrator named Vesuvio.

I am grateful for the entertainment both of these things have given me, though Vesuvio died more than a year ago.

But V is for Vanity.

Vanity probably seems a bit strange as a topic for these specific blogs… but I can explain.

I am vain.  I can admit it.  In fact, I just did lol.   Looking nice matters to me.  It’s the number one motivator for my continuing to not smoke – which Iam grateful for.  Despite the weight gain, and the emotional outbursts I am still learning to control…  I know I look better.  My nails aren’t yellow, warped or cracking.  My teeth are visibly whiter.  My hair grows faster and my chin and cheeks break out less often – since I am not pressing my fingers against them all day long to get the cigarette to my lips and the nicotine in to my lungs.  I SMELL better – which is an instant attractiveness boost in anyone’s book.

As much as I want another cigarette – and don’t think I don’t want one more than you could possibly imagine – I am equally reluctant to undo the physical differences quitting has had on me.  For (exactly!) 50 weeks now, that has kept me (relatively) smoke free.  It is why I haven’t brought smokes home.

Even the reluctance to FAIL at quitting can be attributed to my Vanity.  Failing to quit smoking is a very public failure.  Everyone will know if I fail – and we’ve already gone over how much I hate to fail in front of people.

My Vanity has me making a conscious effort to eat better – and now with less frequency.  I am also heading back to the gym after a two (three?) week hiatus.  It has me rediscovering how much I love a good salad…and cottage cheese with sunflower kernels…etc

Despite my weight gain in the last year… I am healthier than I was this time last year.  And I am working my way down in the weight department as well.

My Vanity spurs my determination…  and I am grateful for that.  I figure its better than more than a few of the other Sins anyway…

O is for Orange Juice.  Which, if you know me, you understand I don’t drink.  At least, I didn’t use to.  However, in the last year I have been introduced to the beauty that is a mimosa.  And you can’t have a mimosa without Orange Juice, now can you?  Orange Juice also goes in my protein smoothies that Robbie makes me after we work out.  It is now a staple grocery on our list and I am glad to have found new ways to love and appreciate it this year.

It might also be for Orgasms, the quality of which has never been so good as it has in the last year.  But we’re tryin to stay family friendly here, folks, so that’s all I have to say about that.

I wanted to say Open Minds and Open Hearts, but Jane Seymore ruined it for me.   Having an Open Heart, to me, is about more than just “love finding it’s way in.”  Even if Love doesn’t, there are other equally valuable things that come from keeping your heart Open.  Humilty, Knowledge, Grace, Patience…  all good things learned when one keeps their heart Open.

I am grateful for the Opinions around me, 90% of which seem to differ from mine 90% of the time.  I will always call it chili, even if there are beans in it.  Meat/Tomato Stew like substance = chili.  I will now and forever maintain that Sarah Palin is not a woman and might possibly be the Antichrist.  I do not hate Obama, and can appreciate what he is trying to do.  I’ve wanted to move to Sweden for YEARS because they have socialized healthcare.  I LOATHE the Cowboys, the Spurs, and UT sports in general…  And yet somehow, I live in Texas.  With a LOT of good friends who believe differently than I do on all those counts with their entire being.  Having Opinions that differ from mine challenges me, tests the courage of my convictions.  Opinions make me think “What if?”  They make me consider an alternative… and I like having considered all sides before choosing my own.

I was supposed to write this yesterday. The obvious choice, however; leaves a bad taste in my mouth….and that’s sad. And it makes me sad. Which is counterproductive to inducing feelings of gratefulness.

I understand that they don’t own Joy. I understand, on a certain level, that it is not something any one person, being, or entity can claim. But, the connotation for the word Joy, for me, now is something ugly and spiteful. And while, in some ways, I am grateful that the events of June and July strengthened some bonds – I mourn the loss of those that didn’t survive the explosion.

They taught me that there is no Joy without honesty. Without accountability or an open mind. And in the last twenty four hours, sitting on this blog, this letter… knowing I couldn’t be True to Me and ignore the letter J and it’s obvious choice of word… I remembered that Joy is a Journey.

And every Journey has a beginning. My beginning was Seeking Sunshine. My Joy, my Journey, started, and will end, with Sunshine. Period. That’s a whole other blog though…for a later date.

And I am grateful for the Journey. And Journey too, but that’s beside the point.

The other obvious choice… is my past. Jordan. I’ve thought a lot about this name lately. Part of the planning a wedding thing, I suppose. I will be taking Robbie’s name – once he gets it changed. It is important to him to have his Grandfather’s name, and it is important to me to have Robbie’s last name. Family is more than a name, but I want that tie between us – for many reasons. This, by necessity, equates to losing my maiden name. My Dad’s name. My family’s name. My name.

I’m not big into the whole “family” thing. I don’t know if it’s from growing up apart from them, or just a random quirk…but I’ve never really got it. My Dad’s side of the family, especially, has not been a big part of my life. I probably wouldn’t know one of those relatives if you stood him/her in front of me, and they wouldn’t know me.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t love my family. My parents and sisters. I do. Very much. Despite their quirks and follies and because they put up with mine, and have for nearly thirty years now. Their choices and decisions have impacted who I am every bit as much as my own. They helped make me, helped prepare me for this Journey. They are part of me. I am a Jordan. And I am grateful that I am a Jordan. And when I change my name, I’ll be keeping that part of me, as my middle name.

I am also grateful for jalapenos, Jack Daniel’s, Jewelry, and my Job.

I had always heard that it was at 27 that a person was no longer able to eat anything they wanted and get away with it.  That at age 27 our metabolisms started to slow down…

And whether that is true in general or not… whether there were other factors involved in my weight gain or not, the facts are that in January, when I started gaining weight despite all my best intentions, all the things that had always worked before, I was 27.  I have monitored my caloric intake for the last two months now, and I am not consuming astronomical quantities of food…

So in the last year I have been adjusting my Diet.  And I am learning to appreciate a well balanced Diet.

Due to the changes I have made in my diet, I have learned I am not, in fact, lactose intolerant.  I spent YEARS thinking this was true.  Moderating my intake and passing up on queso because I didn’t have a pill with me.  This, in case you don’t know me very well, made for a VERY SAD PANDA.

I have never been so grateful for anything in my life as I am for the changes adding the recommended amount of fiber to my diet has made.

I have also had to try new foods, new recipes in my quest to win at what I like to call Tummy-Tetris.  In trying to fit the right amounts of the right foods into my body I have had to think outside the box – which has lessened the monotony of my meals.  I have learned to like new things – like red bell peppers and pizza on a chicken, and rediscovered lost favorites like a spinach salad with green apples, walnuts, sharp cheddar and raspberry vinaigrette.

I am bloated less often.  I have an upset stomach less often.  I sleep better at night and have more energy during the day.  I can tell the difference between being dehydrated and hungry…  which leads me to a small confession…

I don’t like to drink as much.

Yeah.  I said it. I’ll give you a minute to pick your jaw off of the floor…

My Diet is leading toward the Death of my Drinking.  Because as soon as I start Drinking, my lips start to chap.  After a few drinks, all I want is a glass of water as big and round as my head.  And since this leads to fewer hangovers and lower pill-bills – I can’t say I’m not grateful for the change.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still outdrink nine out of ten men if there is vodka involved… but I have less of an inclination to do so.  …unless we’re talking wine or mimosas – in which case: It. Is. On.

The thing I have learned to appreciate the most about making an effort to eat a healthy Diet is that the Devil is in the Details.

I’m a Virgo.  Details are my life.  They are the Devil on my shoulder where Diet is concerned.  They whisper naughty things to me…  I could justify some fried chicken, knowing it’s a bad idea, by putting it in a salad.  Or because two days ago I miraculously stayed under my limit for fat grams…  Bacon is better than sausage; let’s put it in everything(!) – I need the protein anyway…

Confession #2:  The Details make my naughty bits tingle.  (Yeah, I went there.)  They are my temptation.  What I withstand.  They add Drama and excitement to an otherwise Dull endeavor.  They are the conflict in the plot of my Diet.  They are the harlot; the gypsy in a red dress.  The Distraction from all that is rightandgood (and necessary for the Floating Wedding Reception of Awesomeness…).  They give me something to be proud of, every single day.

Without the Details, the Diet would be boring and I’d have lost interest months ago.

I’ve always maintained that there are few, if any shades of grey in my life.  I tend to believe in absolute Truths.  In Good and Bad.  Black and White.  Honesty and Lies.

In the last year, more than ever, I have owned my Convictions.  Lying by omission is still lying.  Forgetting to consider another’s feelings or ask for their thoughts is still selfishness.  I firmly believe Confession is necessary when wrongs are made.

I firmly believe that we are who we are, and that we should accept each other As We Are.  I will not change for anyone, and I do not expect them to do so for me.

And in the last year, these Convictions have led to Conflict.

…And yes.  I am grateful for that Conflict.

Not in and of itself.  But for the knowledge it brought to me.  The deepening and strengthening of the relationships that made it through.  The settling of my convictions and knowledge that when push came to shove I would have the Courage of my Convictions.  That I would also question them and stand behind the Choice I made.

I can’t say that I would have done so a year previously.  There are quite a few people I can thank for that growth.  And though there are a few who do not fit here, I want to recognize a few who do.

Cassie, Courtni, Carol, Chrissie, and Chrissa.  The rest of you know who you are.  I am grateful for all of you.  For your support of me, whatever I decided.  For embracing me as I was and never pushing for anything else.  It is only because you accepted me as I was that I was able to let go of who I was, and grow.

I was only brave because I knew that you weren’t going anywhere.

And had I not had the Courage to make the Changes, I would not be as happy as I am.