My Namesake aka Things are a little scary!

I was named after the Bionic Woman and today is one of those days when I can almost feel her influence.

Today I:

• Woke up at 9am to walk the dog. My Sailor was still sleeping after a 4am shift brought him home late.
• Cooked breakfast. I didn't say made breakfast because, to me, that just involves pouring milk on cereal or water on instant oatmeal. (I attribute so much of my weight loss success to actually making the time to cook breakfast, rather than starting off the day feeling rushed.) Turkey bacon in scrambled egg whites with diced mini peppers, 1/2 a bagel w/ local honey, hot chocolate (swiss miss w/ my own twist- added unsweetened vanilla almond milk and sugar free cinnamon vanilla syrup), and fresh strawberries. Accompanied it all with a small glass of not-from-concentrate OJ. Sound good? That's pretty much an average daily breakfast around the house. (Occasionally I'll resort to making breakfast (instant plain steel cut oats with brown sugar and cinnamon added at the last moment, and a cup of Chobani greek Yogurt, and a peice of fruit), but that's not as common. It's MUCH higher in calorie and not as healthful - more sugar and less fiber.)
• Worked a 12 hour day. (Which is a VERY long time to be staring at books and screens.)
• Walked the dog 4 times.
• Did the MOUNTAIN of laundry that was piling up.
• Did the Dishes.
• Took out the recycling
• Stuck to healthy foods throughout the day.
• Worked out on my lunch/dinner break.
• Wrote this blog
• Brainstormed Valentine's plans

Here it is, 1 am, and I'm considering going to the produce store (which is about an hour and 1/2 adventure) since we're out of fruit and running REALLY low on veggies. But on the off chance I'd pass out in the car, I should probably just stay home, and fold the laundry and put it away so it doesn't sit in the baskets forever.

I'm REALLY good at being busy!

Now on to other things -
  I'm actually really surprised how well I'm taking the 3rd (yes, 3rd) rescheduling of our wedding date. Most women would probably flip out - even one in my position. But I'm not. It'll give us some extra time to save up some more money, and I'll be able to take my time on some projects I was going to do for the wedding anyway. We'll also be able to focus on that new house thing WHICH, for the record, SCARES ME TO DEATH!

See, my experience with purchasing real estate isn't good. In the early 2000's my then-husband and I purchased a condo. I was SO excited to have "our own place", though I do remember being more afraid to buy the place than I was to get married! In hindsight, I should have listened to that fear, but live and learn. Anyway, we bought over-paid for the apartment/condo conversion. It ran us about $260k. My folks gave us money to help w/ closing costs and the real estate agents and the lenders convinced us that we could afford $2200/month. Gulp. Our plan at the time was to turn a profit within 5 years. Well, that would have been impossible. Even if the marriage had lasted another 5 years (it lasted 1 1/2 I think after that purchase), we would NEVER have turned a profit. Turned out they screwed up the electrical and, in the long run, the neighborhood never really turned around the way it had appeared to start. In the end, we agreed to try to short sell it. Didn't work out, so both my ex and I got slammed w/ a foreclosure on our credit records. Now that was some years ago (and the same condos now sell for $85k... yeah, ouch...), and it should be off my credit report any day now, but still...

I realize that I may really struggle with trust. I mean, I do trust that all things work together for good in the end. But there are still things that make me quiver in my boots and the thought of not being able to keep a roof over my head on my own is one of them. See, I've worked every since I was a teenager. I can't remember ever being out of a job. In fact, most of my adult life I've worked more than one job at a time. That doesn't mean I'm rolling in dough, but it does mean that I don't have to  financially lean on anyone 99.8% of the time (my folks have helped me out here and there over the years). Since I never really learned to trust anyone else (in my adult life) to provide for me, I am freaked out about knowing that someday, when My Sailor and I have a family, I'll be leaning on him in a financial sense more and more. I don't think I'll ever stop working. It's just not in me. My "work" may change from my current day job to writing (still working on that novel), but I'll never stop working for an actual paycheck.

I'm actually surprised by the stomach-turning fear I have of big purchases and especially of buying property. I'm aware that experience has taught me that I might not be able to keep it - but experience has also taught me that I'm going to be okay no matter what happens in my life. I know My Sailor and I aren't going to split up when we buy property. The two (buying property and divorce) aren't linked one bit in my mind - and that's reassuring.

But I find myself becoming more and more grateful for this oppurtunity to face down my fear - and, with some faith, trust, good planning, and pixie dust - prove them unnecessary. Even the Bionic Woman was afraid sometimes, but all of her parts got her through - so I'm sure her namesake will come out on top of this one too.

Being what you are...

Source

Yet another day is drawing to a close and yet again, I'm up past my bedtime. And I didn't work out today. Which probably accounts for some of my added stress - not to mention the girly hormone stuff that just tends to amplify what I'm feeling anyway.

"Love builds bridges where there are none." R. H. Delaney

I've learned long ago that trying to be someone or somewhere I'm not never works. They say there are 3 stages to deployments - and the middle stages are the hardest, specially over the holidays. It feels like he's been gone forever.  And yes, weeks without word is very hard.  I will give myself credit where credit is due - but there are times when I can't hear "I'll be home for Christmas" without getting choked up. Torture is going through the romantic Christmas card section in a Hallmark Store, looking for the perfect sentiment - only to flip through a thousand that read something like, "Being with you is the best gift this year," and knowing that that is impossible.

I don't regret my choice for this life. Even in the toughest moments, I don't second guess my choices for a second. Yeah, it's not easy, but I love my life. But to say there aren't times I need a moment to collect myself wouldn't be honest of me. I believe it makes me human. To pretend that it's easy (even on an independent spirit like me) would damage the authenticity of my heart, and My Sailor's investment in himself, his country, and this family.

Today was one of those days where I needed a little encouragement.

And I found it.

I found it in the comfort of knowing that Clydas will be well taken care of when I leave for home by chatting with his caretaker.

I found it in remembering that life is an adventure; that this is just one chapter in a story worth telling.

My story.

Stonger+Faster=Lighter? And a Few words on my Forced Perspective

So I'm feeling like a stronger runner, which is awesome. Running a mile no longer exhausts me, which is AWESOME. But does Stonger + Faster = Lighter?

Not necessarily. Actually, I'm up 4lbs from my lowest last week.

I do understand a little bit of this. It's probably a combo between 'that time of the month', fighting off an illness (My Sailor has had a NASTY cold for about a week), and a little bit of unhealthy fuel I've been putting in lately (a trip to the brewery and some movie theater candy). I've also upped my calorie intake since I was making almost ZERO head way, so part if this might be an adjustment to that too. I'm not going to freak out, but I will admit to a little frustration. I've been drinking TONS of water lately, so I'm hoping that flushes everything out.

Okay, so the fitness stuff is what it is - a constant work in progress that I feel good about. It's something I do for me.  So let's move on to the other topic today.

I'm a reader and frequent commenter on a diverse group of blogs. I guess I like learning what I can from other people's stories, and share what I've learned during mine. But I'm aware that sometimes a different perspective can come off as "holier-than-thou" which really isn't my intention. When this occasionally hits a nerve w/ a blogger, it reminds me to take a look back at my shared perspective, and see where it came from. After all, we are products of our varied life experiences. So here's something that got me thinking:

Why don't I care more about fashion/beauty?
I spent most of my youth trying to get into things other girls my age were interested in. Honestly, I gave up. Sure, I'll window shop every once in a while, but since I've also lived with a very set budget (or something to save for - like an annual vacation), I have a very clear list of what is a necessity in my book and what is an "extra". Things that are "extras" come last. Fashion that doesn't stand the test of time is an "extra" on that list. If I'm out of fashion for one season, I really don't care. I go for comfort first. When I have something to look forward to (currently, a wedding, visiting family over the holidays, possibly a move...) the "extras" that include "stuff" go on the back burner entirely. I'd rather spend my "extra" money on going out and sharing an experience w/ My Sailor or friends, than on myself.  Though maybe I should go a little easier on this one and give myself a little MORE permission to splurge one ME, though splurging on someone else FEELS like splurging on me when I get to share it with them. Complicated topic, isn't it?

I guess I have a little different view of the world. (Please don't read "better", just different - I ment what I typed there.)  I spent a LOT of time in my pre-30 days wondering obsessing about what other people were thinking.  I finally realized that the biggest gift we can give ourselves is being comfortable in our own skin. Once that is achieved (and I'd say I'm there 98% of the time now, I reserve 1% for wedding stuff, but that's faded over time), thoughts of what others are thinking really start to fade away. Take a moment and take a deep breath and imagine what it would feel like if you weren't worried about what someone else thought? Just for a second. What if you really didn't care what you co-workers were thinking? Or what the person the treadmill next to you thinks of your pace?  Pretty liberating feeling, isn't it?

Now, I know fashion isn't all about what we think society will think of us, but it seems so focused on that sometimes that I have a hard time separating it out, so I just lean towards "if it makes me feel good in my own skin, and it's healthy, it's all good."

 Afterall, the only person we have to be comfortable  at the end of the day, once all the shoes are put away, the make up is washed off, is the person staring back at us from the mirror.
(okay - and MAYBE your spouse and kids... but you know what I mean!)

My Climbing Adventure!

Remember this post where I talked about cutting my nails so My Sailor and I could go to the indoor rock climbing gym?  Well, we were too exhausted to make it to the gym that weekend, so we took a rain check and checked out Vertical World Saturday morning instead.

And MAN was it an awesome experience! I can add this to the list of "things other people made me do that have made me a better person" - right next to that first Triathlon Bon Bon made me do.



 Doesn't this place look intimidating?! Whew! But a few great discoveries came from this adventure. The first discovery showed me how far I've come in mastering a few of what were my major insecurities. No, a fear of heights was never one of them.


See, there were only a few other people in the gym, and we were by far the largest people there, weighing in at a combined total of 416 pounds. (We've been losing, but it's a slow and steady process.) So that made me the largest woman in the building. Now, a younger version of me, who hadn't completed (much less would have attempted) 2 triathlons, would have been too scared to go up on the walls. I could feel that insecure thought of, "Just sit it out on the bench and watch. You can take lots of pictures," pass through my mind. (If you've spent any significant duration of time obese or worse, then you know exactly what I mean.) It's the "inner fat girl" talking (or "stinkin' thinkin'" as my Dad calls it) that I'd chosen to believe FAR too many times in my life.

Since reclaiming my health, I stopped giving these thoughts the power I would have a decade ago. I trusted the other thoughts that were quieter, but present. The thoughts of: "If you don't try, you'll never know if you can do this." and "You already know you're capable of more thank you think you are." and "My Sailor thinks I can do this. Than I can. The employees will make sure I'm safe."  I chose to believe them instead, but that doesn't mean there wasn't a natural little fear there still. Having the encouragement of the coach and My Sailor was huge... But I'm getting ahead of myself.



We checked in at the front desk and got our climbing shoes and harnesses. We moved on to our first wall and I was nominated to go first (thanks, love).  The employee who was manning the ropes and coaching us explained the route system and we picked a beginner's route for me.

About half way through, I realized I wasn't breathing. But I was half way up the wall already!  I stopped for just a few moments to breathe and continued. When I felt like quitting, I just remembered what got me through the 2008 Disneyland Danskin Triathlon - my first. Whenever I had the overwhelming urge to quit (which was FAR stronger then than it has EVER been before or since), I just figured out what the next step was. As I focused on taking each step individually, I realized that I really could continue and was more capable than I thought (Gordon Harvey of my favorite podcast would call this The Central Governor Theory).  So I focused on where to put my foot next. With a little reminder from the coach to "Keep moving" (she was probably afraid that, as a noob, I would freeze up), I made it to the top of my first wall!

And then she suggested a 2nd wall (after My Sailor had made quick work of the route I took) with a more difficult route. I felt the changes, but again, I made it to the top, on my first try, without falling. (Even someone I didn't know in the gym was surprised at my quick progress!) Coming down covered in sweat and a great smile felt awesome. I cheered My Sailor on as he took a trail up that wall as well. It was much more difficult and he struggled with the start. The route was called "Tupac's Alive", you know it must have been hard.  

We moved on to the third wall. I spent a good half an hour trying to conquer this wall. And I'm sorry to say, it kicked my butt. Already tired from the first 2 climbs (hey, it was my first time ever) I seemed to have met my match. But ya know what? I was okay with it. I know I gave it my all. My arms were shaking so badly I couldn't grip anything. My last fall actually resulted in the grip ripping a few layers of skin from one of my fingers, and I developed a callus on the other hand. That didn't take long!

So I didn't make it to the top of my 3rd wall, but I'm actually very satisfied with my progress. I did more than I thought I could, AND I have a goal for NEXT TIME. That's right. There WILL be a next time. And then I will show that wall who's boss!

My Sailor is a strong climber! I guess beneath all of our chub are 2 very strong people!

It's "the next day" and my arms are feeling the work out. Parts of my arms I have trouble working out are sore, which is awesome. We talked it over and this is sure to become a regular thing, so stay tuned for updates!

5 simple words that will change your life

Last weekend, I got to see Wicked with my Sista' Girl. It was a GREAT experience. Wicked is one of those rare shows now-a-days that is worth every penny for orchestra seats. It actually, truly 100% lives up to all the hype.
Anyway, as we sat there at intermission, I talked about how the main character (Elphaba) is my dream role. I can truly identify with the passion by which that character lives her life (both in the book and in this more family-friendly production) and, hey, I've been the green kid! Well, okay. Not exactly green, but I've been the kid that saw things a little differently (and was heavier and more creative and passionate than most) and was ridiculed and outcast for it.

There is no denying that Elphaba's part is incredibly demanding. I would argue it's one of the most demanding roles in theater today. In fact, it probably IS the most demanding female role in theater today. But it's my dream role - and even more attractive because it's hard.

After chatting about it for a while, she said the 5 words that have stuck in my mind from that moment on...

"What are you waiting for?"

It's a simple wisdom, but is absolutely right on. What am I waiting on? The only thing I can think of to answer sounds ridiculous - A partner. Towing the rope of paying all the bills, taking care of the everyday household stuff, AND trying to make it as a musical theater leading lady sounds incredibly daunting.

So, I'm waiting on support from some mythical person?

But you know what? I know that I'm never happier than when I'm on stage. (Okay- PERHAPS I'm happier watching the fireworks in Disneyland with the right company, but I digress.) I know it will mean missing family vacations and possibly even holidays. It will mean that vacations are hard to come by. It will mean that I will be tired - A LOT. It will mean that I will have to take the best care I can of my body, my appearance, and I'll have to work hard to acquire a skill that I'm not very confident in (dancing).

And, yes, it's a frightening change.

But as I started packing up dishes last night that I really don't need, I realized something.

Revelation of the week: The scary part isn't taking the action. It's admitting what you were waiting on - was you.

Afterall, courage isn't the absence of fear. It's pushing through even though you're scared.

So... what are you waiting on?

Tall Girl Insecurities

A simple blog about heels brought me to realize that I'm a pretty tall chick. Though I really have a hard time as seeing myself as a tall, leggy blond.

See, I grew up in a house with a dad who is 6'4" and a mom who was about 5'8" at her tallest. (Since then, age has slightly shrunk both of them.) My dad, with his head of white hair and his size, has always been viewed as a "distinguished gentleman". My mom has always been a business powerhouse best known as "the red head". ("So, where did the blond chick come in?" I'm adopted, but that's beside the point, for now. We're talking "nurture", not "nature" for this blog.)

So in my house hold, topping out somewhere around 5'8"ish, I never considered myself "tall". I'm not sure why. The world has always treated me "tall". I was the kid usually in the back of the group pictures. I have lost roles on stage due to my height and the "American Dream" - you know, when you see a couple on stage he is ALWAYS taller than she is. However, I did inherit my mom's "powerhouse" business reputation. I work hard at where ever I am put and love to research and learn more, even if the subject matter isn't one I particularly enjoy. The act of researching and having information and "knowing things" makes me feel special I guess...

But I digress...

All that said, how has my height effected my love life?

Well, I wore jazz shoes in my first wedding - partly for comfort and partly to avoid being taller than my then-groom, who was only about an inch (if that) taller than me.

My current boyfriend wasn't interested in me at first because I was "tall". Granted, the first time he met me was backstage in a show where I was wearing 2 inch heels. With heels like that on, I am nearly eye level with him. (Imagine his surprise when I wore my favorite hiking boots to our first date and only came up to his chest!)

In between them, I did go out on a couple dates with a fellow who was shorter than me. At first, I was nervous, but when I saw that their height didn't bother them I was immediately comfortable with them. Notice, I didn't feel my height was the problem.

Growing up, I was always picked for things like basketball and volleyball.

Yet - I still don't think of myself as "tall". Afterall, the entire family I grew up in is taller than me!

6 foot - now THAT is tall, but meesly little me? Nah. Yet, I avoided wearing heels on many occasions so as not to dwarf my date... but they never asked me to. I just thought they "should" be taller than me. At least, I thought that as a child.

Isn't it amazing how you grow up and grow into yourself a bit? In the end, short or tall, I'll wear heels when I feel like it. As I near 30, it's as if some switch has flipped and I learn to accept myself more and more every day. As for the prince-charming who gets to ride off into the sunset with me? Well, he'll just have to love having a tall woman on his arm - wether I dwarf him on special occasions or not. ;)