Valentine's Day and My Almost Leslie Ann Warren Musical Moment

Friends laughing WITH me. 

It has been said that, "Anything you try to improve upon, you will improve."  Okay, Tony Robbins said that and I believe him.  I did believe him.  He knows his stuff, he just never had a big mouth and legs like mine. 

Last November 14th, I was arguing with two girls from church and I don't know how it happened, but I bet them I could kick my leg over my head.  If you tell me I can't do something, I take it as a personal threat against my whole being and I fight right back.  Truth is, I've never kicked my leg over my head.  Not even in high school when I took gymnastics or dance...I was really awful at both, by the way. So these sweet girls tell me I have 3 months to practice.  Then, on February 14th (yes, Valentine's Day), I have to show my stuff. 

After I made the bet, I went to work and told my co-workers what I had done and all of a sudden all of them, start kicking their legs over their heads.  It was fantastic.  (They are my age or close enough.)  Dora...she could kick with some finesse too....she kicked right over her head...and on the first try!  It was a 'Leslie Ann Warren in a Disney musical' moment.  Then, Jodi....her kick was so high, I made her do it again and again.

Jodi: (KICK!!)

Me:  Jodi!  That was beautiful, do that AGAIN!!

Jodi: (Now smiling a really big smile.) (KICK!!)

Me:  How did you do that?

Jodi: (Now being a little braggadocios--love that word.)  Wanna see me do it with my left leg?

Me: (Almost screaming.) YES!!

Jodi: (Left leg...KICK!!)

Me: Do that again!

Jodi....well she was caught up in how great it was too.  The last kick, she got a funny look on her face...she'd wet her pants and walked away.  It happens to us 50 somethings.

For the next 3 months, I practiced my legs kicks, more or less.  Some days, my hips hurt and some days, I thought I was making terrific progress.  As Oprah would say, "One thing I know for sure..." One thing I know for sure...it wasn't going to happen! 

Valentine's Day arrived.  I made my way over to the girls' house, knowing full well I'd never get my leg over my head, and my leg didn't go over my head.  No 'Leslie Ann Warren Disney Musical' moment for me.  A lot of laughs and a lot of fun.  At one point, their mom grabbed my foot to help me, I'm not sure, but I think I felt something tear and I almost wet my pants (I get it Jodi).  But if you hand over chocolate dipped strawberries before you can't do something (even if you've lied about it for 3 months)...there is a happily ever after. 

Anthony Robbins and a Pair of Mismatched Shoes

Yesterday, I went to church and right in the middle of the meeting, I looked down and saw that I had worn mismatched shoes.  I thought I would die. Quietly, I asked my husband (who never laughs out loud, but did when he saw my predicament) for the car keys.  I plotted how to sneak out of the church building without anyone seeing me.  

It was 7th grade through high school all over again.  That thousand deaths feeling.  I know what caused all these deaths too.  My locker combination!  I couldn't work my locker for six long years.  To add to my misery, I also had a private P.E. locker, as well as a shared one.  Three locker combinations everyday.  Numbers! Numbers! Numbers!  It was simply too much math.  Every Monday, I'd go into school and have to try to remember my locker combinations...on top of a math class.  (Much like passwords on our computers today, only not as much math.)  

I went to college, but dropped out.  I tried everything.  Oh, no lockers there, but I was going to have to take math classes that I'd have never passed (yet another thousand deaths).  One semester, I thought I'd beat the system and I tried taking the lowest classes in each subject and ended up in an English class with all Native Americans, who knew?  The teacher made me drop the class.  He'd picked up on the fact that I wasn't like the rest of my classmates...I was so embarrassed having to leave.  I couldn't do it.  College was not for me.

I've read 'somewhere' (I think I've read a lot of 'somewhere,' because I'm always quoting it), that when we're shy, it's because we are too self consumed.  Instead of thinking of others and how they are doing; we spend too much time concerned about ourselves.  That might be true for me and Sunday was my test.

Well, two weeks ago, I bought an Anthony Robbins course on QVC (I can return it within 30 days...love QVC).  He can talk a good talk and frankly, walks the walk.  He says that we ruminate (my word, not his) over things that may only be our view and not necessarily the truth (like, I can't do math and locker combinations).  We can make that false thought victimize us and make us afraid or angry at everyone and everything.  We made what we thought about come true.  He says, we can tell ourselves a lie (like I'm skinny or unafraid or can do math) and make it become a truth.

After the church meeting yesterday, instead of leaving, I walked over to three of the cutest teenage girls and said, "Look at my shoes."  They fell apart laughing and I didn't die a thousand deaths.  How liberating was that?  Then, I walked past a few of the women I know and said, "Hey, you like my shoes?"  They laughed also.  So I HAD to post it on Facebook.  Do you know that in less than 24 hours, I've had 44 'Likes' and 19 comments?   It's a wonderful thing to have everyone laughing with you.  Quite a confidence builder!

I'm finishing up this blog post and then going to my Anthony Robbins CD where he's going to tell me what are the two forces that control all behavior.  I'm not sure what his two forces are, but for me...one's a slingback and one's a pump.

.....' 2, 4, 6, 8, Everyday, in every way, I'm getting skinnier and skinnier!!!!'

Dieting for Dignity

 

I have a story to tell and it's a good one.  This is how it ends...I'm dieting and I'm not cheating.  Here's how it begins...Ten years ago, I saw on the news, a sick man.  He couldn't have been more than 30 and he had cancer and was dying.  The newscaster told everyone, who wanted to help, to go to Layton (about 30 miles from my home) and see if you could be a bone marrow donor.  It was a Saturday, and I decided I should go.  As I arrived (out of my comfort zone and all alone, I was grumpy), I saw a hundred or so people in lines and people giving a blood sample.  I filled out the paperwork and the volunteer told me I needed to pay $60.00, so they could process my blood.  As I said, I was already grumpy, now they wanted money.  For some reason, I had put the checkbook in my purse that day, but feeling duped, I wasn't going to part with the $60.00.  Beside, things were tight, so I just couldn't.  I turned to leave and there sat the sick man.  He was the color of a brown paper bag.  It wasn't natural.  His face was gaunt.  He played with his little boy.  I turned back and took out my checkbook.

I wasn't a match for him and I never did hear whether or not he lived.  I hope he did, but he sure looked sick. 

It's been ten years since that happened and about two months ago, I was called by the Be The Match program.  They thought I might be a match.  They asked me a long series of questions.  (i.e. Have I had sex with a man, who's had sex with a man in the last 3 months?)  Then, I had to go give blood samples.  Then, I had to answer more questions. (Was I planning on getting pregnant within the next six months?  I answered, 'Only if George Clooney insists.')  Actually, other than the 'George' comment, I played it straight and told the complete truth.  Except for one question?  How much do you weigh?  I lied by 30 lbs.  All in all, they've asked me that question three times and all in all, I've lied every time.  

So, one month ago, Be The Match called again.  I'm a match for a 50 year old lady (I'm 51) and she has leukemia.  I started to cry.  What if she was a new grandma, like me?  What if, a lot of things.  I couldn't stop thinking about her.  Be a Donor asked me my weight again.   I lied again.  I've discovered I'm a chronic liar about two questions:  How much do you weigh? and Did you buy a new purse?  I can't help it.  I feel pushed up against a block wall, my heart pounds, and the lies roll right off my tongue.  (Don't get too judgmental, it's tough, I'm telling you.) 

So I'm dieting for my dignity.  It's amazing how well I'm doing under such pressure.  I've also had nightmares about me making this poor lady sicker because there might be a fat to blood ratio that I've far surpassed.

Here's the good news in all this.  It turns out, there is no donor site in Utah.  They have to fly me to San Francisco on June 4th where I'll donate the marrow and I get to go with a friend (husband) and stay two nights.  I've told my husband, we are telling everyone I won a free trip to San Francisco, so they'll think I'm lucky.  Isn't that great?  (But apparently, I now lie about a third thing.) 

I'll keep everyone posted on my how my weight loss is going.  Today, tears...lots and lots of tears.  What if this doesn't work for the lady?  There has to be people praying for her and hoping for her.  I pray for her.  It has to work, but the responsibility is weighing me down (oh, get it?).  Also, I find it odd that I'm going to be so close to her and yet I'll never know what happens.  At least, I think they don't tell you what happens.  Why would they?  When I donate to the food bank, no one calls and says, "Hey, a nice lady named, Marie, took your can of chili."  So I'll always wonder and worry and hope and pray and right now...DIET!

Calories

I recently read a little quip that went something like this:

calories

(noun)

Tiny creatures that live in your closet 

and sew your clothes a little bit tighter every night. 

And now I can't stop laughing because it reminds me of how much fun we had in college! Our apartment of girls was SO evil. We had a sort of rivalry going on with a guy's apartment downstairs. It was actually more of a war. 

We'd paint their car windows and tires hot pink and stick colorful mini marshmallows on the paint to spell, "never trust a woman." We'd paper mache the windows of their apartment with newspaper. It would stick like glue on an icy winter morning! LOL! (I'm slaying myself over here). We'd put methylene blue in their blueberry-blue kool-aide so the guys would pee blue in the morning. They thought they were DYING! (What! It was perfectly safe. I asked my biology professor first.) Ohmygosh, I can't catch my breath. So funny. We'd pour gallons of water on their heads as they walked underneath our 2nd story apartment window. LOL! Fools. It took a couple of soakings, but they soon learned to give our sidewalk a wide berth. 

Oh, don't feel too sorry for them.  Those boys gave as good as they got.  They'd wire our apartment door shut. With us inside. They jimmy-rigged our toilet so when we flushed, water would spray out of the tank and spray us in the face (that was SO uncalled for). They moved every single thing in our apartment down to the parking lot in the middle of the night (I mean, everything). I don't know how we slept through it, but when we opened our bedroom doors in the morning, and looked out the window, it was a bit of a shock. And once, during what was supposed to be a really nice dinner with two of them, my roommate Allison got pie'd in the face with her very own dessert. It even matched her outfit! (I swear she never liked me after that night. It wasn't my fault! They said they'd do it to me too if I told her. That, and I couldn't stop laughing. She ended up marrying the guy, so actually she should have thanked me.)

Oh, there was more, and it was all in good fun, but my favorite was the time we took a couple pair of pants out of two of their closets. Then, my roommate and I took their pants in an inch or so. (I know. This was so so so bad.)  We did it in stages. First just a bit, then the next week a little more, and a little more, so it wasn't glaringly obvious. They thought they were getting fat!  They started this radical diet and we'd see them jogging together in the SNOW! (I can't breath. LOL!). I don't remember how they found out, but they were so mad. (I think that might have been what triggered the parking lot incident). But can you just hear them? "Jeff? Do you think these white pants make me look fat?" LOLOLOL!

Oh my gosh. Those were great times. I guess this makes me a calorie...

calories

(noun)

Tiny co-eds that sneak into your closet 

and sew your clothes a little bit tighter every night. 

ps.  I've been searching for these pictures for the past two weeks (yes, I've proof of my dastardly deeds) to no avail.  When I find them, I'll post them. In the meantime, here's a picture of college me just outside our apartment. I can't believe I ever looked like that. Confession: that was a padded bra. My roommates used to look at it and say, "If God had meant man to fly, he would have given him wings!" I know! Rude. Right?

New Year's Revolution

 Galileo, my hero!!

 

I liked Suzie's thoughts about a New Year's Resolution.  Frankly, this year, the earth is going to revolve around the sun 366 days (it's leap year), whether I like it or not.  At the end of the year, I can meet my goal and lose my weight or be as heavy (or heavier than I am now) and still be talking about it.  I consider it a New Year's Revolution....

Down another 5

I'm doing great on my diet. YAY! 

But you wanna know what I hate? When people pass by my desk at work and toss me chocolate. Or Taffy. Or a kid comes in and says, "It's my birthday and I brought you a cupcake." Do I toss it back? Do I tell the sweet kid no? 

Sometimes, before I even realize what's happening, I'm chewing on the chocolate and as I close my eyes in bliss, it hits me. SHAZAM!! I'm on a diet!  I want to be annoyed with them, but it's no one's fault but my own. 

From now on I shall say, "No thanks" to the chocolate thrower. I will wish the kid a happy birthday and tell him how amazing those cupcakes look and thanks for thinking of me, but I'll have to pass. And to help me remember, I'm going to make this extremely groovy bracelet and wear it every day. Onward!

Resolutions

Starting a diet on a Monday, or the 1st day of a month, especially starting January 1st and making it a New Year’s Resolution, is so cliché.  At least that's what I've been telling myself for the past 2 days.  So here it is, January 4^th, and a Wednesday!  Perfect!

There's nothing like getting on the scale after a month of not, and seeing OMG staring back. It’s been a glorious month of cooking. And baking.  And eating. 

My son said, when he caught me with a Mentos in my mouth (and a roll of them in my pocket), "Why don't you guys start small? Like “Weigh Across the Street.” You might as well name your blog, “Weighward Across America.” Ouch!  Well, the little darling is right. I flicked him anyway and allowed him to confiscate the rest of the box (Yes, yes. I bought a box of 20 rolls. So sue me). 

Today is day 1. I'm not calling it a Resolution. I'm calling it a CHOICE. Wish me luck and keep your eyes crossed!