Know the way home

The other day I had to have my eyes dilated and I warned my friends to avoid MoPac and Duval around 3pm that afternoon.  I got a few, "What?! You're driving?"
My response was, "Why? The car knows the way home."

It's been a really rough week.  My mom was diagnosed with cancer and we've been playing those games.  There was the meet and greet with the doctors who told us to wait.  Then there was the waiting.  There was a little crying and a lot of anxiety and thank goodness for the emotional duct tape Klonapin.  It's good for what ails you when you're in the midst of a nightmare such as this.

Finally yesterday we found out that while it is bad, it is not as bad as we thought.  It appears to be treatable. So yesterday evening I got home about 8pm and fell asleep.  I woke up at 2am, peeled my cat off my head, kicked my shoes off and went back to sleep.  I woke up at 6am still exhausted but a little more relieved than I had been the previous day.

This evening I was driving to my boyfriend's for an evening of stir fry and authentic human affection instead of all that my cell phone can provide.  I had my iPod plugged in and it played all the songs I needed to hear:

I Wish I Was the Moon Tonight

Summer Begs

The Long Ride Home

Let Down

Total Eclipse of the Heart

I could tell you why I needed to hear these songs with a little essay about each one, but basically it was a shitty week where I faced the mortality of my remaining parent who I adore.  I was filled equally with dread for the trials we face and relief that though none of them will be easy, her chances of survival are greater than 50/50.  I was headed to a few moments of peace where I got to take a few minutes away from the constant emotional intensity and replace it with some levity and hope and happiness.  Though we're both equally concerned for my mother, we both know there's nothing we can do tonight.

Because I reminded him of Total Eclipse of the Heart I am being made to listen to Love and Rockets to maintain my Indie cred.

And with the luck of an over cast day I did make it home safely from my eye doctor's appointment.  I'm fortunate it was a nice April day in Texas (yes, in February.)

Valentine's Day Wishes

Pastry will be my downfall.  If I'm sad, frustrated, scared, stressed, choked up or depressed, I turn to pastry.      If I'm happy, thrilled, excited or generally in a good humor, I turn to pastry.  I know this.  I'm in therapy for it.  I've been on a weight loss program and once committed to it stayed away from it for months and months.  Then one day I thought I had some level control over myself.  Nope... nope, I don't, not yet.

Today is Valentine's day and it was a "goodie day" for work.  Everyone brought cup cakes and cookies and I'll be damned if someone didn't bring cookies from my favorite bakery.  The Upper Crust Bakery will undo all attempts you have at maintaining your weight loss.  

A few weeks ago when one of our employees retired my boss brought one of their cakes.  I thought, oh, surely I can have one piece.  Mmhmm... Just give me a dark corner and a fork and I'll take that cake down like a dog on a ham.

Today it was cookies and again... Surely I can have just one cookie and again I'm like a dog on a ham. Luckily there are no more cookies. I'm stuck with my choices and my guilt and thank goodness I have a gym membership.  I should be telling myself ugly things, which that never works but... I think I'll skip that today.

It's Valentine's Day.  I'm in love.  I'm even in like-a-lot.  I mean how great is it that I'm with a man who gives me that authentic human connection?  So today, I'll be happy that I have his love and friendship. I think that's what we're supposed to do on Valentine's day, right?    

I'll see him tomorrow and we'll hug and be happy to see each other like we are every other day.   What's really beautiful is we don't even need a day to remind ourselves to be happy that we have each other.  There is no expectation of gifts or flowers.  There is only the expectation that in my heart I'll be tickled to see him. 

My wish for us is that on July 14th or September 8th or all the other random days of the year we'll feel the same.  I know in time that we will grow accustomed to one another and lose what one friend refers to as "party manners" but we lift each other up and push each other forward.  Even in the morning when our hair is flat and knotted and our teeth are fuzzy he still wants to kiss me.  While I wish my alarm would quit screaming or my cat would stop climbing on my head he's right there next to me, happy that I'm there.  No amount of flowers, chocolate or Upper Crust pastry could make me feel that good. 

Physically pffft...

Whoever came up with the Cybex Arc Trainer is equally brilliant and sadistic.  I have a love - hate relationship with this machine.  I think they should have called it the "Ass Kicker" but some might perceive that as inappropriate.

Let me just say that people who go to the gym don't know it as the Arc Trainer.  They know it as the "Thing that's kind of like a stair stepper" or the "grasshopper" and all agree that it's the hardest machine in the gym.  They agree with my recommendations for a name change.

It is extremely efficient and it burns more calories than the other machines.  Believe me when I say this, you will feel the burn, but here is their language from their website:

Research shows that the Cybex Arc Trainer burns more calories than any other cross trainer or elliptical cross trainer tested. The science behind the Arc Trainer’s big calorie burn is the Arc motion. It engages the right muscles – quads and glutes – that demand lots of energy from the body when they are called upon to work. That means big calorie burn. And ... because the Arc is demanding of the muscles – not the joints, it can be used longer without putting a strain on the knees, hip or back.

Whatever.  It works.  

My only complaint is the machine is stationed, at my gym, in front of the televisions that show Fox News, Telemundo and MTV.  I usually have the tunes cranked so I can run through the obligatory 45 minutes I demand of myself at least 4 times a week.  It's hard though not to read the captions.  So on Fox News I can watch Bill O'Reilly or Sean Hannity spout lies, throw tantrums or spit venom.  On MTV I can watch Snooki and JWoww be... well, them.  My new favorite trash television is Buckwild which shows rednecks acting like idiots.  It's like the Kentucky version of Jersey Shore.  I live in Texas, I just have to walk outside to see that bullshit.  Finally, there's Telemundo and I don't speak Spanish.  Which one do I watch?  Okay I have to admit MTV has captured some of my attention but of the three I prefer Telemundo.

I asked the gym if the channels could be changed and they said they were fixed.  I'm sure they could be changed, technically, but there are little signs on each television that say what the channel is.  I decided to keep it polite when they suggested I find another machine.  All machines are not created equal.  The Ass Kicker kicks my ass for a reason. 

I have a few new neurotic ticks.  When skinny people try to give me advice on how to eat or exercise I have to suppress the urge to put my foot on his or her throat and explain to them, "Losing 100 pounds required more than your uneducated opinion about me."  I restrain myself because I know their intentions are good.  I really do.  I'm even considering one guy's advice of trying a vegan diet. I might last 12 minutes on it, but it's worth a shot.  Still while he was offering his unsolicited advice I reminded myself why it's wrong to insult people and their mothers.

That is mixed in with my new hatred of magazines at the grocery store that have a picture of a rib-thin skinny celebrity showing off how she lost 30 pounds and went from healthy to damn near anorexic in only 6 weeks with the help of a very expensive personal trainer and personal chef.  I want to shred the magazine with my teeth. The only thing that keeps me from turning to my baser animal instincts is that behavior tends to make others a bit uncomfortable. I might be asked not only to leave but to never come back.  I'm really happy that I've never been to jail.   

I realize there's nothing I can do about pop culture and its ludicrous obsession with being thin.  It damages more than just my self esteem.  I spoke with a girl yesterday who looks dangerously thin.  She said she'd recently gained 40 pounds.  She alluded to the fact that she "just wasn't eating."  She understands the struggle with food.  Her issues are bigger than mine were at 400 pounds.  I may be at risk for the whole host of diseases associated with obesity but she's literally at risk of starving to death because something in her brain makes her not want to eat. 

I wish the best for her.  I wish the best for us all.  And to those of you who think you know what's best, remember your struggles are different from mine.  Don't get upset when I tell you how to quit smoking or stop drinking.  It's fair game if you're going to tell me how to lose weight.