life lessons by heather

1. Parkinson's is not sexy. We did a LOT of leg work in strippercize tonight and when I tried to walk out to my car, I looked like a younger, blonder, yet shakier Katherine Hepburn.

2. When you do little things to try to make your life easier, it only makes it harder than it was before you made it easier. Simple case in point: I moved my gum to its own little house in my purse and now I can't remember that it's there so it takes me twice as long to find my gum. I know -- would that all of our problems were this big.

3. When you lose weight, it doesn't happen all over your body at the same time. So, now while my torso is getting smaller, my ass is still huge and looks like someone grabbed it and their hand prints stayed.

4. Do not think that you will only read "one chapter" when you are more than halfway through the book. It's not like books usually get worse at this point and then you're an hour and a half past your bedtime.

5. Do not piss off your boss after she just got her ass chewed by her boss. You will wind up with 3 times the work load to start off your day than what you thought.

6. You never get tired of people asking you if you lost weight, so keep wearing your baggy clothes long after it's appropriate. When they fall off when walking, downsize and start over.

7. You will never feel sexy (ooops, sexxxy) if you eat anything gassy before going to stripper class -- or oddly enough, if you put gas in your car before arriving. Putting gas in and letting it out are both equally unsexy.

8. Drinking 4 shots before starting the class helps alleviate this a lot.

9. You should always appreciate how easy it is to lift your hairdryer, you never know when this will become a difficult task.

10. And finally... Do not tell your man you are taking a stripper class because he will want you to come home and rubup-up, rubup-up, rubup-up on his ding dong and all you want to do is eat some ding dongs.

Less than 2

Tonight was a monumental night. I hit the 30 pound mark in weight loss and that means that I went below that ugly number that started with a 2.

You know, you never think you're going to get to a point in your life where your weight will start with a 2, much less that far into it. I know I did not. The worst part is that I did not immediately make a change once it got that far. I was in denial. I thought if I told myself enough times that I was happy and healthy that it would be okay. I would do something about it one day. But, one day didn't come until more than a year later...

And even though I did not have anything medically wrong with me at my high weight, I know that couldn't have lasted. But, the best part is that I feel so much better all of the time. I have so much more energy, I feel so much more engaged. Even when I do have days where I still feel lacking in confidence, they don't seem to take me to the same down in the dumps level that I used to get to before. The point where I was just feeling worthless. I mean truly worthless. Being overweight sucks, but particularly when our society values youth and beauty as much as it does.

Take for example the Strippercize class. A friend emailed me after she read that I was taking the class, expressing her envy that I was taking the class and how hard she thought it would be to be that sexy. (Sorry for the paraphrase, J.) And this is a friend that pretty much has the market cornered on sexy, so that's saying a lot. She talked about what she would dance to and would she wind up looking hot and said that yes, she does think about these things and presumes I must too because I'm taking the class.

Actually, I'm taking the class because another friend asked me to join with her. I'm taking the class because Scott said it would benefit the whole family. I'm taking the class because I was feeling a little arrogant about the level of my physical fitness since I started walking 30 minutes a day. That last one really cracks me up, because really you would think I was ready to run a marathon the way I talk about my 30 minutes walking daily. But, for me? 30 minutes 5 days a week?

I mean, have you met me??

Anyways, because I had to go through Stripper Special Ed, I wasn't feeling overly confident about myself. I was definitely the biggest girl in the class, and unfortunately for the girl behind me, I was probably the only girl with gas in the class. (Sorry Star, Moon, Flower, whoever you were.) But, the thing is that in the past that kind of blow to my ego would have been impossible for me to get over. I might not have even wanted to go back to the class again, despite shelling out the money in advance to go.

But, I'm trying not to be that girl anymore. I want to be the confident girl. And part of that is going to involve taking chances and taking risks that aren't always going to work out.

So, I lost the 2 and now it's down to 1. Me. And the never ending journey to discovery and more blog fodder.

happy valentine's day oh favorite people of mine

I was perusing VideoDog at Salon.com. (That's here. ) And there was this movie short called Are you the favorite person of anybody? This was sort of interesting.

If you don't want to watch it, basically the guy is conducting a survey and asks, "Are you the favorite person of anybody?" And then has the confused person rate the certainty of their answers on a scale of very certain, pretty certain, i think so, maybe, not certain at all.

It made me think -- am I the favorite person of anybody? I mean, I would say there are plenty of people who like me and a handful of them would even go so far as to say I would be one of their favorites -- but the favorite? That's a lot of pressure. If you say one person is your favorite, then that discounts all of the other people. That's why even at the ripe old age of 32 I can't commit to having just one best friend and have two instead. Which basically disqualifies the whole notion of best, huh?

The obvious answer (particularly on this day of mush and gush) is my husband is my favorite person. And even though it really is true, how cliche'd is that?

And then how much pressure to be someone's FAVORITE person? I mean, who could live up to that? Everyone has bad days and gets gas and gets cranky and whatever. Does the bad stuff exist in your favorite people? Do you only see your favorite people once a decade (I was going to say millenium but I'm trying to cut down on my "dramaticism") and that's how they remain your favorites? How much contact do you have with favorite people? Can they keep the momentum going or do you change the favorite status from time to time?

What makes someone your FAVORITE person?

I'm deciding that I'm against this favorite person thing. Too much pressure to put on one person. Perhaps favorite people by category, I can live with that. "Favorite Friend in a Dramatic Role." "Favorite Friend to Coerce You into Smoking when you swore you quit." "Favorite Relative -- local." "Favorite Husband." "Favorite Boss."

Yeah. Be someone's Favorite in a category and continue to strive for mediocrity!

Question?

Why is that I feel guilty when I go off and do things without Scott despite the fact that when I am home and we are in the same house together hanging out he largely plays video games or watches tv?

It's not like we are creating some intimate environment of togetherness when we are here at the same time, so why not go out and play sometimes without the guilt?

Not sure.

The Week in Heather Review

Last week was very strange.

Started out with me not getting the promotion that I had applied for and had that lame interview that I wrote about. I was disappointed but didn't realize how much so until I called Scott and got teary about it -- while on the treadmill, which is a weird combination to begin with. He was so great, I remembered why I married him all over again. Kept telling me how proud of me he was for trying to apply and all that. And then he sent me flowers that same day, which is pretty amazing since it was about 3:00 when I talked to him and they got there by 4:30. This beautiful little arrangement with a card that simply said, "I Still Believe." Aww, then I was REALLY gonna cry. :)

Already had a sushi date planned with a friend which was a wonderful pick-me-up. I love sushi and we went to my favorite place in town where the guy claims he is the Eel King. Which is awesome because I love eel! Good times.

Tuesday night was my Statistics class and I may have finally found a class "buddy" which is what always makes my classes go by so much better. I don't always find one and it makes me feel so strange.

Wednesday night was Weight Watchers and finally started going back down again. I say finally like I had been climbing up but I was (and still am) at the turning point of a big number that I really want to go under, if only I would stop sabotaging myself right before I'm about to drop below it!

Thursday night was stripper-cize. Yup, strippercize. That really should be a blog unto itself. My dancer name (which I hope is not supposed to be super top secret) is SiMoan, which I get a kick out of. And I had fun, but also realized (again) that I am fairly retarded when it comes to being sexy. Sorry, sexxxy. I reach in to tap into my super sexy self and get nothing. So, I had to have stripper special ed because I couldn't get the walk right, couldn't even spin in a circle right and definitely couldn't grind all the way down to a "one" position. In fact, I had to stay in three the whole time.

The instructors are actually former dancers from this area and they are extremely wonderful and supportive. The hallway leading up to the dance studio is literally vagina pink and there are notes all over the walls from past graduates gushing about how grateful they are for being shown their sexiness. Hope this happens to me. Then, the studio itself is lit by blacklights and there are a few poles dispensed throughout. Yup, those kinds of poles. We learn that on our third lesson.

Anyone that wants more info about the class, let me know because it is definitely a great work out and lots of fun -- but hard! I am still experiencing a large amount of pain in what I have recently learned is where my quads are.

Then last night I hung out with my friend Debbie and we drank too much and laughed a lot and that was awesome. We went to a frou-frou martini bar called Fresh and then went to a more low key Mexican place near by called Guadalara. Good times, but I have feeling that it's going to show up in a bad way on the scale on Wednesday night.

And now, this morning I am headed for a facial. Yay! I've been wanting one for a long time and can't wait to see what they excavate from my pores! OH, there's where the Lindbergh baby has been...

Hugs to all -- sorry it's taken me so long to do a catchup.

Have you called your mother today?

Okay, I haven't called mine but that's because, duh, she can't hear. (For those of you who did not know that, it's lost its sadness over time so there is no need to go "awwww...") But, I did get the guilt trip last night for how infrequently she sees me.

It started out innocently enough. She asked if I had gotten the promotion I applied for at work. I said that I still had not heard anything and that she definitely would have heard from me if I had. And she said that no, not necessarily because... Why IS it that she only sees me 45 minutes a week?

I really hate getting caught in my bullshit. It's such a bad feeling, isn't it?

Immediately, the excuses bubble up and that just makes me feel worse. I know that I really am all that she has, that's really not a complete guilt trip -- it's just a fact. I believe that she decided it was going to be that way, but it still is what it is. After Dad died, lots of people were calling and asking about her and would have gladly started hanging out with her, but she didn't want to. She was very emphatic about it. So, now I am her main source of any kind of socializing.

NO pressure!

I think about other people that I know and their relationships with their mothers. I know I see my mom more regularly than a lot of people I know simply because I live in the same state and the same town. And no, I don't spend tons of time with her, but I wouldn't say that I have tons of time to give.

Oy, more excuses. So, to make it worse, when I got home from my too long Statistics class last night, I had an email from her basically telling me to disregard our conversation because it was pitiful for her to ask me to spend more time with her when I apparently didn't want to spend more time with her than I already was. (Hmm, Mom you have a little passive aggressive on your chin there, you might want to get that...)

I mean, seriously...? You're going to go there and then finish by saying you didn't want me to feel guilty. Riiiight.

Yes, I know I should spend more time, okay? But, her house is boring -- it's an antiques store and there is no tv for public consumption. NONE. We have to sit and talk the entire visit. How much is there to say? What new topics can be explored when my life changes so little from day to day??

I'm frustrated with her... And I am still running the roll in my head of my friends and their relationships with their mothers. Doesn't see regularly, doesn't see regularly, doesn't talk to, doesn't talk to much, tries to get away with three visits a year, and so on. And the last one was my own father!!

So, have you called your mother today? Because she's not going to be around forever you know and one day you'll be sorry...

Oy.