Blog theThirtieth

So it's Day 43 of my 30-Day Challenge. So much for the best of intentions; and I guess Morgan Spurlock's job is safe for now...

But here we are nonetheless, at Blog #30. When I started this little assignment for myself, the High Holidays were just drawing to a close and I was still sort of half thinking about packing some stuff for the move that I almost refused to believe was real until it actually happened.

Now we've been in the new house for nearly four weeks, and while there are still plenty of boxes piled up in the dining room and office, it is slowly starting to feel like home. We've found our new favorite pizza place, fixed a few leaks, and are beginning to check more things off the list each week than we add to it (barely, but still).

I've also realized lately that making plans to leave the house, see friends, and have evenings out are not things that can wait until everything is perfect in the house. First of all, things will never be perfect; and secondly, even when things are a bit chaotic, life has to go on. I do feel a little smattering of guilt when we venture out to do something fun, knowing that there are countless projects piled up waiting for me here. But then I think -- who cares? My home is not going to be featured in Better Homes & Gardens anytime soon, so why worry about it? [PS - if you come to visit anytime soon, you may be asked to unpack a box while you're here. You may also have to bring your own chair.]

I do think that attempting to blog on a daily basis has been really good for me discipline-wise, and reminded me that it really does pay off to exercise the writing muscle even when I don't feel like it, or I'm not sure I have anything to say. It's also been great to hear so many comments (on- and off-line) about the things I've written, and to receive so much encouragement.

I plan to keep blogging frequently, and maybe also to focus some of that energy toward other types of writing as well. I'd still love suggestions and feedback from those of you who enjoy the blog; so keep that coming. A couple of you have made suggestions already that are in the hopper, waiting for me to wrap my slow brain around them and come up with some sort of Mandafied take on them.

Reading is another big thing on my to-do list moving forward. I firmly believe that you have to be a good reader to be a good writer, but I don't always take the time to do it. I've had some great recommendations recently for both books and blogs, but I'd love any additional thoughts you guys have. Inspiration is never a bad thing....

Anyway, big thanks to everyone who's followed along with my little experiment; and I'd love to hear how your life experiments are going, too!

A Fantastic Fall Day

Nothing deep to report today, just relaxing at the end of a lovely fall day. The weather was perfect today, and we drove to North Georgia to see the beautiful leaves and take MLM to a pumpkin patch. A stop at Greenwood's in Roswell for some home-cooking out on the porch, and a nap on the couch during football, and our day was pretty much perfect.

Today was one of those days that I always missed when I didn't live in Georgia, cool and crisp with spectacular colors everywhere, blowing in the breeze. I loved so much about Austin, and still miss it often; but there's no noticeable change of seasons in the mild Central Texas weather -- it pretty much goes overnight from 120 degrees and dry to the three weeks of chilly rain known as 'winter.' The trees native to the Austin area don't really change colors as they do here, and I always longed for these autumn days around this time of year.

A nice drive in a beautiful place always brings back memories of the other places I've been (there have been many -- I'm very fortunate); and gets me thinking about the list of future destinations I keep filed away in the back of my mental filing cabinet. It's sort of like eating a delicious meal and reminiscing about other great meals at the same time. What? No? Just me? Anyway....

A few months ago, DH and I decided that one of our joint goals for our family is to try and visit all 58 National Parks and 100 National Monuments in the U.S. I'm pretty excited about the idea of exploring as a family some of the places we've been separately in the past; and going to new places, too. We're also toying with plans for some international travel; but since that will require lots more money and planning (especially for MLM), it's not really in list form. But it's fun to dream.

Between the beautiful leaves, the winding road, and a sweet baby asleep in the backseat (or giggling for no reason, when awake), today's little trip went a long way to lessening all the stress of moving and lightening the weight of my seemingly endless to-do list. At least for a while....

How to React When I Refer to Myself as a "Fat Girl"

You wouldn't believe how uncomfortable it makes people. Especially skinny people.

We'll be together in some social situation, talking about whatever (often it's food or dieting or fitness), and I will make a reference to myself as a fat girl. I often do this in an outrageously self-applauding way. For example when someone compliments me on a great home-cooked meal, I'll say "If you want to know about good food, just ask a fat girl." Or when someone congratulates me on accomplishing something challenging in the fitness arena (like my loooong walk for breast cancer in June), and I'll shrug with affected modesty and say, "Yeah, not bad for a fat girl, eh?"

And then, I just sit back and watch the discomfort set in.....

Nervous laughter, accompanied by shifting eyes. Or the tentative reassurance, "Oh, come on, you're not fat..." and I can almost hear the corrected sentence in my poor friend's terrified brain: Well, you're not as fat as some people I've seen. Or just uncomfortable silence and a quick change of the subject, accompanied by an expression that says I just sidestepped a huge conversational landmine.

Well, my friends, let me put your fears to rest. This is not an outcropping of low self-esteem looking for comfort and healing. I am not bravely asserting what I hope is a falsehood and waiting for someone to reassure me. I am certainly not putting myself down. [When I do, you'll know it, because all my sentences will follow this whiny formula: "You don't think I'm ____________ (obnoxious, a bad writer, a neglectful friend, etc.), do you?" ]

But when I refer to myself as a 'fat girl,' I'm simply owning a part of myself that I have come to accept and even love over the years, despite all the struggles it brings. Believe it or not, it is possible to embrace your identity as a heavy-set person and simultaneously strive to improve your health and weight each day. In fact, accepting this dichotomy is the best thing I ever did for myself. I am not ashamed of myself or any part of who I am, so there's really no need for you to feel uncomfortable when I mention it. Seriously. It's okay. Relax!

So, in the vein of bringing it out into the open.... Here's what I know:

At this moment, I am about 53 pounds overweight for my height according to current medical standards. Technically, that's obese. When you hear about obesity being a huge problem in our country, I'm one of the people they're talking about. That bothers me in the sense that I don't want to experience medical problems as a result of my weight, and I don't want to miss out on activities because my weight or resulting medical issues might limit them. I also don't want my son (or any other kids who might come along later) to have to struggle with diet, exercise and body image as I have.

I have always been heavy. When I was younger, I was just a little thicker than some kids; and when I look back at pictures of myself, I barely see a weight problem at all. But many people around me -- mean kids I grew up around, and more hurtfully, adults who I loved and trusted -- saw a weight problem and felt the need to comment on it in a very negative way. Following their example, I began to view myself in that same negative light, which was pretty depressing.

And, it turns out, when I'm depressed, I eat. So you can imagine how well this cycle went for me during my teenage years, when you can get depressed if the wind blows the wrong direction and they serve milkshakes with lunch every day at school. Mmmm.....  Put that together with a society that focuses largely on appearances and places the highest value on women who are between sizes 0 and 4, and you have a recipe (mmmm..... recipe....) for some major body image issues. I certainly struggled with them, and I know for absolute certain that I was far, far, far from alone.

But this is where it gets better. Despite fluctuations in weight both up and down (more up, over time), and despite several key moments throughout the years when I broke down crying in a dressing room while trying on bathing suits, or angrily consumed an entire box of Oatmeal Cream Pies in my college dorm room when some jerky guy broke up with me.... I was okay.

People still liked me, guys still wanted to date me, and -- it turns out -- I could still climb mountains, shake my booty on the dance floor, and even run a little bit, just like the skinny people around me. Maybe not as fast, maybe not as far at first, but I could do it. And I think I felt a greater sense of achievement afterward, because I'd told myself for so long I wasn't someone who could live in that world. But I could, I can, and so can anyone else.

Over time, I began to learn that you don't have to be one thing or the other. You don't have to be a bendy Size 8 to enjoy and derive benefit from yoga or hiking. Eating healthy is important (and yummy) no matter who you are or how much you weigh. Vegetables are our friends. And the occasional burger and fries is good, too. It's okay to wish you were a few pounds lighter but still be proud of your curves, and to totally admire your own butt in Size 16 or 18 jeans (or larger - I've seen women who can make size 22 look amazing because they know how to own it). It's also okay to be naturally thin, and I promise to only hate you a little if you say, "No matter what I eat, I just never seem to gain weight."

I've learned that hotness is not about size, it's about attitude. My dirty little secret? I don't want to be skinny. Yes, being overweight is a struggle, and I continually strive to improve my health and fitness. But you can keep your bikini body, your calorie-counting, and your perfect thighs. I'm happy with the more of me there is to love, and I have embraced myself for who I am, just as I am. That's one healthy habit I absolutely will pass on to my kids: to love themselves for who they are, and never let anyone else cloud their judgment of their own self-worth.

So what should you do when I make a joke about being a fat girl? Laugh. And pass the breadsticks.

To Do Today...

Here is the "To Do" list I made for myself for today:

- check office vm (every 2 hrs)
- reflection journal for class
- bank
- lunch w/ ----
- finish marketing flier & e-mail to group for approval
- make baby food?
- f/u w/ potential client

But here's my "hidden agenda," the one that isn't written on my day planner:
- Step out into sunshine and take a deep, cold breath
- Enjoy catching up with old friend over lunch
- Turn up the radio and sing (badly) on the way to bank
- Pause after completing a work project to feel proud and relax before moving on to the next list item
- Dance in the kitchen while the cranberry applesauce cooks
- OR..... Run out of time to make cranberry applesauce, forgive self, be content in knowledge that child will neither starve nor die instantly from eating preservative-laden pre-packaged baby food.
- Express gratitude for my life, family and health.
- When hubby gets home, kiss him like I mean it! ;)


Have a great day, everyone....whatever may be on your list!!

Trying to Keep my Commitment to Break my Commitment

A few months ago, I signed on as a contract writer for one of those content-engine websites [the ones that hire freelancers to generate as much keyword-driven web content as possible, in hopes of driving traffic to Internet ads]. The contract requirements are pretty simple: just 10 short articles in three months; with pay based on the number of people who read your articles and then click on related ads.

I knew from the start that the pay would be pretty abysmal, as is the case with most entry-level freelance gigs; but it seemed a nice way to use my time while I was up at 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning anyway with Little Man. I've done this type of writing before and, though it can be tedious, it's not usually too taxing. Plus, any writer will tell you there's always something a bit thrilling about getting paid to write (however little).

After signing on, however, I found that the "however little" was really little -- effectively about 50 cents an hour so far. Either I am getting more persnickety as I get older, and feeling more ownership over what I write; or my abilities to churn out decent writing quickly are waning. Either way, I found myself taking far longer than I'd budgeted to write each article and getting far more frustrated than usual at the banality of writing quantity over quality. I began to dread staring at the blank document screen the same way I dread writing a research paper in school. Ick. I would much prefer to write for you, dear blog readers; or for my own fantasies of one day publishing a novel.

Meanwhile, LM started sleeping better, allowing me to go right back to sleep most early mornings. I also began focusing, sooner than expected, on my life as a part-time psychotherapy clinician -- in addition to being a full-time mommy. So spare time is once again at a premium, and when I do have time to write, I want to write for my own enjoyment or to connect with others -- not to lure someone into clicking on an ad for free credit reports or a belly diet.

So last week, when I got an editorial e-mail reminding me that my three-month deadline was looming, it was pretty easy to do the cost-benefit analysis. 50 cents an hour, sometimes less, weighed against the countless other things that I need or want to do with my time -- building my therapy practice, cleaning my house, spending time with my precious little boy, SLEEPING.... The decision to stop right where I was at seven articles and let my contract lapse was pretty darn simple.

Until today. Today is the official deadline, the last window of opportunity to change my mind. It's not too late to e-mail the editor and ask for an extension. Or, if I felt really industrious, I could churn out the remaining three articles today and put off the decision to quit for another three months.

Today those doubting little voices in my head have begun emerging, fueled by the perilous attraction of possibility. What if I'm just in a bit of a writing slump right now, and next week these articles seem anything but tedious? What if I start seeing more income, or even client leads, from my current articles and regret the decision to close the door on this opportunity? What if.....?

Once again, the deceptive appeal of what I could do is being pitted against the value I place on my time, and even against common sense. No sane person with two Master's degrees and an infant should be working for 50 cents an hour; especially when I don't spend as much time as I'd like doing other things that matter to me.

So what is feeding that nagging voice? Why is it so hard to just let the door close? Maybe it's about not giving up -- trying to redeem the time I spent on the first seven articles by making the whole venture worthwhile. Or, maybe it's something more primitive.

I once heard about monkeys in some distant and lush part of the world who would get trapped in a ridiculous but conveniently metaphoric way. Hunters would hollow out a coconut through a hole just large enough for a monkey's hand, and place food inside. The monkey would reach inside the coconut and grab the food, but with his hand balled into a fist, it would no longer fit through the hole to escape. Since the survival instinct will not allow the monkey to let go of a potential meal, the story goes that monkeys would often stay trapped with their hands in the coconut for hours (apparently sometimes even long enough to starve to death if the hunters did not return in time).

However true or exaggerated these stories are, they're certainly a beautiful and useful analogy for lessons in greed, priorities, obsession, opportunity cost.... and maybe a partial, primal explanation for why it can be so hard to let go of something, even when it's in your best interest to do so.

So, now that I've churned out a free but fulfilling blog entry, instead of a cheap piece of "content" for someone else's website, it's time to take my hand out of the coconut and move on with my day. There's a little monkey who needs looking after!

The Hidden Costs of Spreading Yourself Too Thin

So it's a little embarrassing to look back at my blog history and realize that I've only put up one tiny post in nearly two months...

And it's even more embarrassing to have to confess that -- even though I am constantly preaching balance and stress management to my clients and friends -- the main reason I haven't been able to write is because I completely over-committed myself in the last couple of months. For some reason I'd like to chalk up to temporary insanity, I thought it was a good idea to take 3 classes this semester, continue full-force with my 2 part-time jobs, accept a couple of random freelance opportunities, organize a silent auction and attend a 3-day training out of town... all essentially culminating in February and March, and all during my second trimester of pregnancy.

I think the "what the hell were you thinking?" goes without saying. But don't worry, several caring individuals have been kind enough to say it anyway.

Of course I recognize that this type of overloaded lifestyle has consequences, as I think most of us do when we're slowly, half-voluntarily getting in over our heads. But one interesting thing I noticed, somewhere in the fervor, is that there are also financial consequences. Maybe it's our heightened collective attention on the economy right now that tuned me in to this issue; but once I started noticing, the financial fallout of my voluntary chaos seemed to be everywhere.

For starters, there's parking: Theoretically, there is free parking available for GSU students at Turner Field, and you can take a shuttle from there to campus (or walk the 1.5 miles or so on a nice day and get in your exercise at the same time). I used to take advantage of this option at least once a week to save money and to allow myself a few minutes of zone-out time or brisk walking. But I can count on one hand the number of times I've been able to swing it in the last three months.... I get too busy before or after class to add the extra time to my commute; so I suck it up and pay for downtown campus parking, promising myself each time that I'll be more disciplined next week.

Of course, that's on the days when I'm on time, or close to it. Some days I am so rushed before class -- finishing up one commitment or another -- that even my regular parking spot downtown is unrealistic; and instead of $5 or $3, I have to pay $8 for the premium lot that is just a couple of blocks closer to the classroom building. Two blocks closer means 4 minutes less late to class!

So I'm guessing I've blown at least $70 in unnecessary parking charges this year so far. If I could work at a slower pace, give myself more time to plan ahead, I could have pocketed that $70 for the kid's college fund and probably been a little more sane each time I entered the classroom to boot.

Parking is an easy example. But wait, there's more!

There's paying absurd ATM fees to get cash from Not My Bank when I suddenly realize I need it, despite the fact that I probably passed four of my own bank's ATMs on the way to wherever I was going.

There were a couple of bounced check fees in January (in my opinion the most ridiculous and inexcusable expense a person can have) because I was too hurried to notice that I accidentally made a PayPal transaction from the wrong account.

There are the countless times we've eaten out or ordered pizza because I didn't have time to plan meals for the week or make a thorough trip to the grocery store. (This one is expensive AND unhealthy).

My housekeeping, never what I'd consider overly tidy to begin with, has definitely suffered from my busy schedule... so one day in frustration I thought I'd quickly vacuum the main parts of the carpet in the 30 minutes I had between obligations. Just a quick job, so why take the time to move everything off the floor, right? I'll just vacuum AROUND the phone charger cords.... Turns out, when one of those gets sucked up into the vacuum cleaner, the cord itself will wrap around the axle until it hits the base, which is when it will snap unceremoniously, leaving you with inexplicable black marks on the carpet and $30 less in your wallet for the replacement.

It seems that cutting corners (or being too busy to avoid cutting corners) has taken quite a bite out of my wallet in the last few weeks. And since I think money is often a symptom-bearer for other issues, I'll say that this is probably a reflection of some of the non-monetary costs I've been sacrificing to stress and hurry as well: quality time with family and friends, healthy eating, time to exercise as much as I need...

It's too bad there's no budget program that will show us this stuff on one of those handy pie charts. "If you would slow down and quit taking on so much, you would save 5% of your expenses, be in 8% better health, and have 25% better relationships."

Too bad indeed. Guess I'm going to have to slow down and pay attention instead!