Operation Shrink Charlie's Big Butt

Charlie and the Juice Cups

2012-02-01T14:36:00.000-06:00

I know.

I have always been very tight lipped when it comes to talking about s.e.x. on this blog. (And that statement right there is a joke unto itself.)

Today, like all of my best intentions, I am going to have to skip my usual protocol and just talk about the heart of the matter. Because according to my facebook poll last night, people don’t care if it’s something that could happen to them or not.

Nope. They just want to hear the story.

And this story is about kittens.

Kittens to 11.

And if you are squeamish, this is your warning.

STOP READING NOW. I MEAN IT.

Just walk away and imagine I talked about inner strength or ditching my love affair of oreos or something.

For the brave and the bold, continue reading on.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, the fun fact about trying to conceive is that there is no shortage of odd and wacky advice about HOW to get preggers. Move your bed to a south facing wall. Check your cervical mucus for consistency and color. Or, try some (what I have affectionally dubbed) JUICE CUPS.

These juice cups are the same concept as another product I once used and blogged about, which I will never name or talk about again, because there was a woman who called me from their company and proved that she was the mean product nazi and made me cry, then asked me to change some parts of the story so they could use it as something funny to share on their website. (First of all, if you want to use my stuff, don’t ask me to change the story to make your product look superior and me look incompetent. I can do that just fine without assistance. Second of all, you have no right to be uppity about your product- especially because if I use crayons and color in the vague drawings you provided on your instruction manual, it would be porn. All women have the inherent right to complain and joke about menstruation “aides.” It’s our only added bonus to the monthly terror that happens to our abdomens.) (Stepping off of my soap box now)

Back to the juice cups.

Here’s what they are.

Now, how in the world do you use these to assist with trying to get knocked up?

According to the world wide interwebs, you insert the juice cups after “copulation” to keep the semen closer to the cervix. It’s kinda like playing tag but the person who is IT gets to take a 3 minute head start to catch you. You can then leave them in for 12 hours to insure that the ones playing tag have a successful game.

Now, when it comes to all things girly, I have long felt I was a complete expert. Only because I have learned the hard way how NOT to use certain products. When it comes to new items, I always feel I learned enough from my last disaster to be wise with the new.

This is a fatal flaw that I have dealt with my entire life.

So I dutifully put the box of juice cups next to our bed, ready to use at the right time.

And according to the ovulation predictor, the right time was the other night.

So, after the kids were all tucked in bed and sleeping like rocks, Matt and I snuck away into the safety of our locked tight bedroom for some kittens.

The deed was done (and fun…), and it was time for the juice cups.

I wisely positioned myself into a quazi – headstand on the bed, and grabbed the box. They weren’t opened. Probably should have done that earlier. I opened the box and pulled out the product. Unwrapping it carefully, I looked at it. There is not an easy way to tell which side is up and which side is down. Especially since I was kinda doing a headstand.

Matt, being the amazing husband he is, was trying to decide if he wanted to watch this unfold, or if he wanted to look away. He did a little of both, as you will see.

I determined that I had the correct side upside down, to match my own position, and began to put it in. But it wasn’t easily gliding in to the correct positioning. Something wasn’t right. The plastic-ey bag part started to puff up inside. What the heck was going on?

I made the split second decision to pull it out and try again. Except this time, I was going to stand up and do it.

So I pulled out the juice cup, and rolled over so I could stand.

And THAT was when the air up there started escaping.

There is nothing sexier than a woman quaiffing as she rolls out of bed.

At this point, Matt is trying very hard to hide the giggles he’s got. I believe he had one eye peering out from the covers, watching me from behind tears of muffled laughter, cause this moment was comedy gold.

But funny or not, the clock was ticking, and I was going to get that juice cup where it needed to be.

So there I was, standing with one leg cocked up to Sunday, and the other balancing me on the floor (thank heavens for yoga) and a slippery juice cup in my hand. (You might need to Clorox the eyes of your brain after reading this. My apologies.) And I’m pretty sure I was making that face Michael Jordan made when he was up in the air ready to make a slam dunk.

CONCENTRATE, CHARLIE, CONCENTRATE!

But the harder I concentrated, the tighter my grip would get on the slippery juice cup. And because we all know you cannot tightly hold a slippery fish, the thing started to pop out of my hands.

By this point, Matt was totally engrossed in the mayhem going on, and he felt he needed to step in and give me some encouragement.

“Oh my gosh, DON’T WASTE IT!”

Helpful, oh love of my life, that was so very helpful.

Quickly, I caught the cup before it landed on the floor, changed the leg position because the one I was standing on was getting numb, and I jammed the juice cup in before it had a chance to pop out of my hands again.

SUCCESS!

And a blog post.

I got a two for one deal.

So fingers crossed this works. And in the mean time, I’m going to practice with the juice cups again at a later less crucial time. Just in case this wasn’t our month. And I have to do this again.

Thank you for reading. You may now go Clorox the eyes of your brains.

Kittens

2012-01-26T13:51:00.000-06:00

Wow.

I have not blogged in almost A MONTH.

A whole super long time in which I have been not hiding from the world, but simply existing in it. Healing, loving, crying, sharing, hugging, and changing.

That really sums up what I’ve been doing.

Thankfully, though, I’ve also been maintaining. I’m currently at 140 pounds. Which I consider success. I may not live every single day in the 130s, but averaging 2 pounds away for over 2 months is impressive, by my standards at least.

And then there’s the whole issue of TRYING TO GET PREGNANT.

And that’s what I’m going to talk about today. Because this is something totally new to me. I never tried to get pregnant before. It just always happened. Even using birth control.

But now, as a woman in her mid thirties, I’m not sure it will be as easy as it once was.

Last month, I admit we only gave it a half hearted attempt. Mostly because doing the “Baby Dance” as it is called on most “trying to conceive” sites, required 2 vicatin to even get through it. I happened to ovulate shortly after the surgery, so I wasn’t feeling my best, and it wasn’t nearly as fun as it normally is.

By the way, we call it “kittens” in this house.

This time around, as mother nature has finally wrapped up her week long evil deed of lady-time, and I no longer require any painkillers to get through the day- including advil (woot!), it’s time to start thinking about kittens again. (which seriously, regarding mother nature, I am still gunning for human evolving in this area, so that one day my daughters and grand-daughters won’t have to have a period. Just once a month there will be a post it note in their unders saying “Not pregnant” or “Start stocking up on Pampers” or something nice and not annoying and un-disgusting like that.)

Wrapping my head around kittens being something more profitable than an amusing extra-curricular activity is weird. And to be honest, I’ve read some of the horror stories online of couples attempting to get preggers and having kittens becomes a chore for them.

KITTENS A CHORE? Say it ain’t so!

Maybe it’s easy for me to be optimistic because:

A) this is only the second month we are attempting to be makin’ bacon. (a term my grandpa uses on the farm for animals mating) (he’s a pig farmer. Lol) It is still thrilling to think that (brace yourself, this is another family saying from grandparents) soon I will take serious what Matt is poking in fun. (That is hilarious to me.)

B) I’m a fan of kittens. BIG FAN.

C) I am totally in love with my husband, and kittens isn’t just about fulfilling primal needs. It’s about drawing close to each other, reconnecting, and remembering that our relationship is more than just being mom and dad to the 3 kids we have, or being Matt at work and Charlie the housewife. One day, we will be old and retired and living in a house with just the 2 of us hanging around. If our relationship is only about those other things, what happens to us when we have an empty nest and are living off of a 401K? Kittens is a healthy way for us to remember that we are passionately in love (or as Matt likes to tell me “Madly in love”) because of who the other person is, beyond the insane schedules and duties we share. (I just said dooty.)

Kittens is important for more than just making a baby.

So as we head into another month of focused well-timed (hopefully) productive Kittens, I figure we can use this time to re-kindle some of the romance that gets lost in the never ending piles of laundry. How am I going to do that?

FLIRTING

If there is anything that makes me swoon faster than a corset wearing southern belle on a hot day in August, it’s flirting. When we are in a room packed full of people, and I see my husband wink at me, to quote SWV- “I get so weak in the knees I can hardly speak.” I don’t know what it is about that little gesture, but it knocks me off my rocker EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

Not to mention that when Matt comes up and wraps his arms around me while I’m doing something normal, like making dinner. It reminds me that beyond being mom and home chef, I’m still a woman who is appreciated.

But those are the ways Matt flirts with me.

How can I flirt with him?

He’s a different type of flirter. He’s not big on PDA (public displays of affection) nor is he one to be moved by lengthy love letters written by yours truly. (OK, but in all fairness, that is what I do full time. Writing. It’s what I excel at. I suppose it would feel the same way if he came home with a 500 page policy packet of why he loves me and the proper ways to express that love. Since that’s his job at work, I’d be unimpressed too.)

Here are the top 5 ways I’m going to try and flirt with my husband.

1. GIVE HIM THE REMOTE and don’t ask for it back. Not even when he picks a show I don’t like. Even if it’s “Ghost Hunters.”

2. I will not wear the grey underwear I have washed 80 berjillion times and are the comfiest pair I own. They are horrid and unattractive. I vow to wear the uncomfortable stuff.

3. I will not pick apart the things he does. All wives are guilty of this, including yours truly, and it doesn’t help a person in your house feel appreciated for the ways they help out.

4. Speaking of which, I will NOTICE all the little things he does to help out around the house, and comment how much I appreciate each and every one.

5. I will remember that my husband is the kindest, funniest, most generous man I have ever met. And I will let all my thoughts about him help me cherish those attributes of his character.

And finally, as my last random thought for the day, I wanted to share with you something I’ve been struggling with. This is kind of a big thing.

I’m wondering what to do with this blog.

See, I’ve met my weight loss goal, and Charlie’s Big Butt has officially been shrunk. For those people that come here to get inspiration (or otherwise) regarding weight loss, I’m not focusing on that right now, and I don’t want to annoy people talking about things like kittens and periods. Or eventually, being knocked up. (Fingers crossed!)

I’m toying with some ideas, but none of them seem to be the right fit. Not to mention that I’m not sure how far I can go with talking about trying to get preggers. Especially when we finally get there and have to wait and have an ultra sound to make sure it’s not a tubal pregnancy. I’m not sure how to process all of this, nor how much I want to share about it. Then again, this blog is how I process things. It’s my way of coming to terms with the situations at hand.

Honestly, gang, I’m rather torn about it all.

So if you have any thoughts about it, or encouraging words, please share them. I don’t want to just walk away from OSCBB, but I also want to stay true to the nature of this blog. And I just can’t figure out what to do!

I also have no idea how to end this post….

So… uh…. The end.

Charlie and the ACTUAL OPERATION

2012-01-02T14:49:00.001-06:00

I really don’t know where to begin this post, because aside from the not always comfortable recovery process, it still kinda feels like a dream. But it’s not a dream. It’s not something Matt and I are talking about and hoping will happen for us one day.

The dream has become a reality.

I’m fertile again.

See, a long time ago, Matt and I made the decision that we wanted more kids. We KNEW that our family wasn’t complete. We were still missing a couple more personalities in our household. But because my tubes were tied from my previous marriage, it just wasn’t happening.

But how my heart wanted it! Every month, I prayed and prayed that God would look past my “broken paths” and let it happen. Having the initial tubal ligation was never what I wanted, but a decision I was forced into, even after cancelling the surgery twice. At the time, I was in a place I couldn’t fight for myself or my feelings, so I had no choice but to go through with it.

Over the past 8 years, this one simple surgery I had has been an albatross around my neck. It was about so much more than not being able to have more children. It was about a bondage I still lived in, quite literally tied up tightly to my past. It was a daily reminder there were parts of me I still had no control over, and was unable to be freed from. It was a piece of my former life that grieved my heart because I couldn’t move past it on my own. I knew God had other plans for me, but I just couldn’t achieve them.

Several years ago, I did a Beth Moore Bible study at my church, “Believing God.” It was a powerful time of release for me, learning not only to believe IN God, but to simply believe Him. I could trust that He loved me just as I am. I could believe that He would restore “land” that had been taken from me. We were supposed to write down one issue in our life that we were going to believe God about. My paper simply stated “Make the broken paths whole again.” That was it. I was going to trust God, to believe Him that he could do this for me. It was about letting Him reassure me that the past will not and should not dictate who I am today. It can shape it (for better or for worse) but if I work towards emotional healing, He is faithful and will show justice and grant mercy and grace.

When we first made the decision to have a tubal reversal, I wasn’t eligible for the surgery. My body mass index was too high. It needed to be a 37, and mine was 41. That, coupled with the fact I felt awful about myself physically and emotionally and couldn’t tie my own shoes without breathing heavily, led me down the rabbit hole of this blog. It sent me on a path I never dreamed I would travel. I worked hard, lost weight, and learned to love myself like God loves me. Or at least more like God loves me. Honestly. Completely. Un-judgementally. Unconditionally.

And I learned to embrace others in a new way. Learning the best way to encourage people was to go out into the world and do things for myself- to show them that changing yourself, your habits and your mindset is possible. That it doesn’t matter what you have gone through, if you want to change your life for the better, IT CAN BE DONE!!!!

Finally, when I hit my weight loss goal, I thought it was time to check into the surgery. There was one opening left the week the kids are gone, and before I realized what had happened, it was OUR scheduled time. And so began a whirlwind of planning and activity. We chose Chapel Hill Tubal Reversal Clinic in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. They were beyond helpful, from making sure all the forms and labs were filled out, to the general nervousness before surgery. They answered all our questions, reassured us, and made the entire experience amazing for us. CHTRC specializes in this surgery, and have very high success rates. We were in very good hands.

We flew out on Tuesday of last week REALLY EARLY IN THE MORNING, and arrived at Chapel Hill about 9am. We were taken to our hotel, then to the clinic where I got all the pre-op appointments done. (There will be a separate blog post about this, and after I write it, you will understand why it’s a story all its own. But it’s a very Charlie experience! hee hee hee) We grabbed a quick nap, headed to the day spa where we got massages (yep, even Matt got a massage. And it was worth every penny!) and then went to dinner. After arriving back at the hotel, we went to sleep and prepared for a very big day.

Wednesday was surgery day. I woke up, took a shower, and we headed to the clinic. I was the first surgery of the day, and we had to be there by 7am. I got changed into a gown, they got my IV started, and I was in surgery by 7:45 (I think. Time was a bit wibbly wobbly after the IV.) Matt got settled into the waiting room, and I remember them asking me a few questions in the operating room. And then I blinked. When I woke up, I was in recovery.

Everything went really well. Dr. Berger was able to fix both of my fallopian tubes and make sure they were clear of any blockage. But that wasn’t the best part.

The best part was when our surgeon sat down with us and talked about the results as I was in recovery. He gave Matt and I his full attention. We video taped it (of course, we did. We film everything.) and it was a tender sweet moment. Here was the man who God used to embody the miracle I had prayed for, telling us that we now had the ability conceive. I will be showing you that footage later, but it makes me cry. I also had Dr. Berger sign my little scrap of paper from my Beth Moore Bible study. Whenever we do have a baby, that paper will be framed and hanging over the crib of our new little one. Or ones. Because even though it wasn’t a miracle in the way I expected it to be, it is still a miracle in every right.

I am healed.

I am fertile.

I am FREE.

So there you have it. That’s what I did over my Christmas vacation. It was an amazing experience, and I’m healing up nicely. A few weeks of not lifting more than 15 pounds, a week more of taking it easy, and no running for a while. I can handle that.

Hopefully, I’ll soon be able to announce that we are preggers. But it’s going to take a while before we will announce things for sure. I have to follow a strict protocol once I do get a positive pregnancy test, because now I am at a higher risk for a tubal pregnancy. There are multiple blood tests, then an ultrasound to make sure that the baby is where it’s supposed to be. If it isn’t, well… I PRAY that this isn’t a situation we will have to face. Time will tell, I guess. But it is all in God’s hands now. He knows the plans He has for us, and there has never been a time in my life when He hasn’t been faithful to the end. So I trust that we can brave these new waters of the unknown and be held tightly in the grip of God’s grace. And with Matt by my side, we can face anything. He’s the best sidekick/husband/best friend/partner in crime that there ever was!

But for now, it’s all about babymaking.

Let the fun begin!

Charlie and the Laboratory Chicken

2011-12-09T14:22:00.001-06:00

Here’s the thing.

Ever since I hit my goal weight, I’ve been running like a chicken with my head cut off. No time to take a breath and enjoy life. Because the kids still have 8 million activities and appointments. Matt and I are trying to finalize some big plans for our family. We are still going through some court related issues that leave my heart spinning. All of this is still happening while I’m supposed to be celebrating this uber huge weight loss.

I’ve not really had time to come to terms with all of it. Because even though it’s a wonderful thing, I’m feeling emotionally vulnerable.

(Not to mention an hour after I announced my weight loss victory, the local news called me and wanted to know if they could talk to me and film in my home. For a recovering recluse, this was a BIG step towards getting over my old “You can’t come inside” habits. Breaking chains, people, even when there’s not enough Xanax in the world. If you didn’t see it, click here and catch it!)

So I’ve been running, dashing and speaking, but had yet to take a moment to celebrate all that’s happened.

Now, yesterday was one of those fart in a can kind of days. And what I mean by that is I was so busy, there wasn’t even time to sniff your own stink. (Admit it. You’ve pookered and waved the bottom air up to see what it smelled like. And sometimes, I bet you even were impressed with yourself. We’ve ALL done it. I’m just stupid enough to admit it. Moving on.) I had 8 tasks to complete in the 2 hours between getting all the kids on the bus and having to work at the middle school for parent volunteer time. INSANITY.

I was rushing from place to place to place to place, trying to make every microsecond count. And finally, I got to my doctor’s office where I had to get some routine blood work done. (Regular checkups, people. It could save your life.)

There I was, sitting in a PACKED laboratory waiting room. And I finally had a moment to breathe. And it kinda scared me. Just the hugeness of it. (That’s what she said.) And I knew I needed to laugh or I would cry from physical and emotional exhaustion. I needed a distraction.

So my friend Christine had linked up this story on my facebook wall from The Bloggess, with a comment of “Charlie Hester...you will laugh your butt off!!! I can see us doing this if we ever went shopping together. Too bad we don't live in the same town! We'd be TROUBLE!” (And THAT, my friends, is how you successfully bait and triple dog dare me to read something.)

For those of my friends who have more delicate sensibilities, I’ll warn you that the Bloggess doesn’t have a cursing filter. For my other friends, (especially Results not Typical Girl and Jia) this post won’t even phase you (in fact, you’ve probably already read it).

I’m linking it up here if you would care to read it for yourself. You’ve been disclaimed. (But really, the rest of this post won’t make any sense at all if you don’t read it. So maybe just go for it. You can thank me later. Or send me irritated emails that I violated your eyes. It’s really your call.)

Now. There are a few things you need to know about me to understand this post.

A) Matt and I are “catch phrase” junkies. If it’s funny to us, we will repeat it until the day we die. (We quoted lines from the movie Supertroopers in our wedding vows. Me: “I will love you from meow until forever.” Matt, without missing a beat: “Did you just say MEOW?” He didn't even know it was coming. I LOVE THAT MAN SO MUCH! We are THOSE kinds of people.)

B) We are always on the lookout for phrases we can add to our repertoire. Again, if it’s funny, we will repeat it.

C) Matt and I have a fantastic relationship without being unrealistic about the other’s personality. We know we both have “qwerks” and even though they occasionally annoy us, we also find them hysterical about one another. (He makes fun of my fantasticly over exaggerated “Phone-Voice.” I make fun of the fact he drives like Mr. Magoo. Touche.)

D) We love having fun. We would rather have fun than be romantic. That’s just who we are.

E) When I really get to laughing, it’s loud, obnoxious, snorty, and annoying to others who aren’t laughing.

Back to the point of this story. (Assuming it has one.)

Packed lab. 20 + minutes to kill. Triple dog dare. And, this leads me to starting to read the Bloggess for the first time in a packed room of cranky people.

So there I am, sitting in a chair between 2 old gals on one side, and a really old gentleman on the other side. My iphone is out, the blog post is up, and I started to read.

And the laughing started almost immediately. Because Matt and I have had the same *types* of conversations about me spending money. I come home with useless crap from Big Lots ALL. THE. TIME.

At first, my laughing started as the church giggles. (Laughing in inappropriate places at inappropriate times.) As I kept reading her witty banter (especially the part about *giving* a person perspective) I thought I was going to lose it. Church giggles turned into snort laughing as QUIETLY as I could. (which frankly, it’s impossible to snort laugh quietly.)

AND THEN:

I got to the picture of her chicken on the front door. I was GASPING FOR AIR, imagining Matt’s reaction if he answered a knock and saw that beauty blocking the front door. Because as annoyed as he would be, it would be hysterical. TO ME. And whomever was brave enough to help me haul a ginormous metal chicken up my driveway and wait in the bushes with me to see what Matt's response would be.

AND THAT WAS WHEN I READ THE CAPTION UNDERNEATH THE PICTURE OF THE CHICKEN AT THE DOOR.

And I first read it as “knock knock, mother clucker.” And I did a screaming gasp of laughter, because this was going to be a new quote between Matt and I the second I got home and made him read it. And I did the screaming gasp of laughter again (but louder) when I saw that *it did not in fact say clucker*

I WAS GONE. My laugh was echoing through the entire clinic. 95% of the people were shooting me dirty looks, totally annoyed that I was being so inconsiderate and cackling like a fool.

But the other 5%? Those are the people that freaking make my day.

The two old gals sitting on one side of me were chuckling to themselves, and I finally heard one of the ladies say “I can’t stand it anymore.”

Tap tap tap on my shoulder.

Me (trying not to sound like a crazy person): “Ye-hehehehehehehehe. Sorry. Yes?”

Old gal: “Honey, WHAT on earth is so funny?”

Me: “It’s… (giggle) a story… (snort) about a… (wiping tears from my eyes) BIG… (volume control of my voice has now escaped me and I’m now yelling at full throttle) METAL CHICKEN! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!” (at which point I resumed my uncontrollable laughing fit)

Other old gal: “What’d she say? All I heard was metal chicken.”

Random person ALL THE WAY across the room: “We ALL heard about the big metal chicken.”

And that was my very first time reading the Bloggess. And I feel much better now.

The End.

How to tell the world you lost 100 pounds without a single ounce of dignity

2011-12-05T14:16:00.000-06:00

Charlie, the Progress Pictures, and the Parking Lot Syndrome

2011-12-03T12:11:00.000-06:00

So last night after the kids were gone for the weekend, I had Matt help me take some new bathing suit pictures. It wasn’t nearly as scary as the first time because after doing my measurements from beginning to practically the end, I KNEW I would see a huge difference.

And I wasn’t disappointed.

But for those of you who didn’t get the sneak peak on facebook, or those who have come over from FB and want to see the rest of the side by side pics, you are going to have to wait a minute and read what I’m about to say first before we get to the photos.

Because of all the places I expected the parking lot syndrome to happen, I wasn’t prepared to have it go on in my living room last night.

What is the parking lot syndrome?

My, am I glad you asked!

Parking Lot Syndrome: When you know exactly where you park your car at the beginning of a shopping trip, but after finishing at the store (usually totally flustered) you walk out to the parking lot and 2 things happen. A) You cannot remember where you parked your car… and B) You have a hard time remembering what your car looks like because you are seeing other cars that look similar in style but aren’t quite right. When A and B happen, you usually end up walking around the parking lot for 5 minutes looking for ANYTHING in your vehicle that looks familiar to you.

See, all this dieting and personal growth has CHANGED me in ways I’ve never thought possible. At this point in my life, as pleased as I am with the changes on the outside, I am thrilled-to-betsy face-on-the-ground-thankful for the changes that happened in me that no one can see.

Like---

-becoming a recovering agoraphobic who now not only leaves her house on a regular basis, but also lets people come inside and even has spontaneous company without having a panic attack.

-being a girl who understands that pain is an important part of life. It is OK for us to be hurt, physically and emotionally, and I have learned to embrace pain when it happens.

-learning that my biggest hurdle with any challenge I face has nothing to do with the circumstances around me. It has everything to do with the 6 inches in between my ears. That headspace is the most powerful weapon we own, and it can be used for evil (negative talk, self doubt, discouragement) or for good (positive encouragement and ego boosting).

I promise I am not going to turn this message into a sermon, but I would be remiss without stating once again that this journey didn’t happen because of me. It happened because I surrendered it to God. I promised Him I would do all the outside work (controlling my food, exercising, etc.) and be determined, but HE would have to make the physical changes happen. I know for a fact that if I hadn’t surrendered this issue I could never have done it. I walked into this diet with the mindset of “I cannot do this on my own. I KNOW THAT. So help me, God. As long as You keep showing up and being faithful, I will never give up.”

I’m not saying you have to believe what I do to lose weight. Lots of my friends believe differently than me, and they have also found success in weight loss. But for me, it took that moment of realizing how inadequate I was and being left with no choice but to just relax. By giving it to God, it took all the pressure off of me to not fail or fail. I knew that no matter what happened, I would see results.

And that, my friends, is exactly what brings us to the parking lot syndrome in my living room last night. Because I had been peeking in my “before” pictures about a half hour before we started snapping the updated pics. (Honestly, I was waiting for my bra lines to disappear. That takes a good while. ;)

So I was looking at all my “heaviest” pictures in a bathing suit. I have looked at them lots of times, but I suppose the scope of my past had not really hit me with the magnitude it was about to come down with.

I got into my smaller suit, posed for some pics, checked them on the camera, and deemed they were ok to use. I plugged in the camera’s memory card, and started cropping the pics and adjusting the exposure (to lighten them up a bit so we could see better.) I didn’t change the dimensions (I didn’t stretch them to make myself look skinnier) and then I compared them side by side with the before.

AND THAT WAS WHEN IT HAPPENED. PARKING LOT SYNDROME.

I saw this one first. The backs.

Because I kept thinking that I still looked like the girl on the left. (Went into the store and parked one place.) But looking at the girl on the right, it’s a totally different car we are talking about. (Walked out of the store and thought where the heck is my car?) It was hard to believe that it was really me. I mean, I KNOW it was me, because I was there for both pictures. (And trust me, you don’t ever forget the emotional trauma of those first bathing suit pics. EVER.) But it just didn’t seem like this kind of an enormous change was possible. I knew I’d lost a lot of weight and a lot of inches, but this was crazy.

Then I saw the side pics.

I knew I carried most of my weight on my belly. And as a recovering girdle addict, I know that I still have issues with how my tummy looks, especially with the excess skin I have. But once I saw these pictures next to each other, I realized that I have nothing to be ashamed of. Flappy excess skin or not, I’m a different woman all together.

Then, finally, the fronts.

Wow. Just wow. It’s not very often my own transformation leaves me speechless, and I think that's because I see myself every single day. I'm used to the changes and don't notice too much of a difference.

But this one just left me slackjawed and silent. And it also made me cry.

Here’s the thing. When I look at the girl on the left, I don’t just see myself. I see a woman who is broken- emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I see a person who looks so uncomfortable in her own skin that it’s painful. I see aching knees and back and shoulders, constant headaches from poor nutrition, and eyes that are swallowed up by a puffy face. I see a woman who is sick and tired of being sick and tired. It’s not that I see a fat girl. I see a sad girl. I know she’s smiling here, but it’s a forced smile for the sake of the camera.

But the girl on the right?

Effortless smiles. Concentrated joy that is exploding from her posture. Thighs that are forever free of chub-rub. Shoulders that have had an enormous weight lifted from them. (And I’m not talking from the weight loss, either.) I see a woman who is confident in herself for the first time.

I parked my car, walked into the store, and came out to find my old keys fit a brand new car.

And now, it’s time to start really seeing what this baby can do.

Just ONE MORE... thoughts of a woman one pound from goal

2011-11-21T14:26:00.003-06:00

For some reason, the aspect ratio is off, and it's not letting me fix it at the moment.

(Dear Santa, please bring me Final Cut Pro for Christmas so I can make kick butt videos that look amazing. Mmmmkay, thanks.)

Introducing Merlin...

2011-11-20T12:10:00.000-06:00

So I haven't really taken the time to properly introduce you all to our dog, Merlin. He's part boarder collie, part mutt, and big part pain in the butt. He's almost 8 months old. Such a big boy...

Seriously, I can't imagine having a different dog than him. He's bright, completely housebroken (only took us about 7 weeks) and cute as heck.

Our family is in love with him, and after watching this video, you might understand why. (Ok, so Puppy the cat isn't THRILLED, but she tolerates him.) (Kinda-sorta.) (Ok, not really at all...)

Not to mention he is my new running partner. Lands sake, how that dog loves to run!

So, like all members of our house, Merlin has some qwerks. And he couldn't be more precious.

Just take a look...

Bad Case of THE WANTS

2011-11-17T09:04:00.000-06:00

So today in my inbox, I get this letter…

Hello Miss Charlie,

I have waited long enough to hit that little button up in the top right hand corner that says “Contact Charlie”!

Did you fall off the blogging wagon my dear?

I’m 15 pounds down since September 26^th and you have been an inspiration…get back online would ya!?!?!?

Jennifer

If you happen to be a fan of this blog, ya’ll can thank Jennifer for this post.

Have I fallen off the blogging wagon?

YES. But it’s not because I don’t want to blog. I do. However at the moment, finding time to get in some quiet time to really capture my thoughts has been difficult. Because life has been happening.

I’ve been volunteering at each of the kids’ schools at least once a week (usually more, though, cause these showchoirs keep me hopping!). I’ve been cleaning out closets and pulling out winter clothes (Cause it snowed here last week- YIKES). I’ve been trying to get all the Christmas presents before the week of Christmas (a new personal record if I can pull it off…). And trying to reconnect with Matt after a long couple months of theatre obligations. (Sweeney Todd was fantastic!) I’m getting ready to launch a self-esteem building program for pre-teen girls in our area. (The “All About” Girls, which you will hear “All About” soon!)

And through all of this- I’ve not strayed far from the lifestyle principles I have adopted. Still not “dieting” but watching portion sizes, making more healthy choices than unhealthy ones, and only eating French fries every so often instead of every day.

AND…

I’m just 2 pounds from goal.

I saw 140.8 on the scale this week, so that’s all that’s left for me.

2 measly little pounds.

I know for a fact that even when I hit that goal, it’s not close to being over for me. After that, I’m really going to start focusing on trimming up the flabby parts of me, tightening my abs and arms, and continue training our dog, Merlin, for a cross country 5K. There’s much to do once those final 2 pounds are gone.

So it will be far from over. This blog will continue, even after goal.

I know there are some of you out there that come here for inspiration, and I want to give it to you with a message that has been burning on my heart.

Here’s the thing. I have been busting my butt for the last 3 years (almost 4 now) to hit my goal. And that equals out to 25 pounds a year or so.

But it’s not the weight loss that has changed me so drastically.

It’s the inner strength I have gained. It’s learning who I am, where I need work, and getting my hands dirty in all the emotional crap that I had been carrying around. It was about saying that it was JUST FINE to take some time for me.

Life before this massive undertaking was frustrating. I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t commit, I just couldn’t….

Every diet attempt I had ended up pretty much like this (which I find hysterical- this was in our local paper 2 days ago.)

I had all the tools right in front of me, but I was unwilling to use them.

Could I have taken a walk? YES.

Could I have only eaten 2 cookies instead of an entire box? YES.

Could I have gotten my butt off the couch and made this change a lot sooner in my life? YES.

But I didn’t do any of those things because I didn’t WANT IT BAD ENOUGH.

There is no real secret to dieting, much to the billion dollar diet industry’s chagrin. There is no magic pill. There is no perfect diet plan.

There is only “DO YOU WANT THIS BAD ENOUGH TO GET UP AND GET IT?”

I knew there was still something inside me that was holding back, because before 2009 I didn’t REALLY want it. I wanted to explore the deepest parts of me, and then fix the broken bits. I was tired of living life as a victim of all that has happened in my life. And that victim mentality was the exact thing that was keeping me fat. But to get up and get it for myself was a daunting terrifying task. It scared the living crap out of me. What would life be like if there were no more excuses to hide behind? What if I was mentally, physically and emotionally at my best? Would people expect more from me than I was able to give? Would I disappoint folks? Would I gain all the weight back and be a miserable fat failure once again? I’d been down that road more times than I could count, and had no desire to head onto that path again.

AND YET…

I wanted to risk it. I wanted to start living dangerously. To take a huge chance- on myself. To find out what really is on the other side of being a slave to the scale and my baggage.

I finally wanted it enough. And that was when my life really began to change.

As I get closer and closer to goal, I find myself using less excuses about why I can’t accomplish things. Before I would always say yes to things, then be frantic when I couldn’t make them happen. But now, I am able to say NO- because this is not something I feel passionate about. And I don’t worry about pleasing people. I am only concerned with what is best for myself and my family primarily.

I know that I cannot change the world.

But because I WANTED IT, I was able to change MY WORLD.

What are the things that are holding you back? Fear? Frustration? Apathy? All of those things are excuses.

I’m going to come down hard here, and say this:

IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOUR SITUATION IS. YOU CAN STILL LOSE WEIGHT IF YOU WANT IT BAD ENOUGH.

Our culture and society has taught us to blame our surroundings and our circumstances for the reason we don’t change. But I CRY SHENANEGINS. That is a load of malarkey.

Can’t exercise? You can still control what you eat.

Unable to buy tons of “healthy foods” because of finances? You can still count calories of the food you do have and watch portion sizes.

Lost weight before and gained it all back, leaving your confidence shaken? Then YOU, my friend, have the advantage, because you know that your body will respond positively to hard work and dedication.

If I could go back in time and change anything, I would have gone through this journey sooner. I wouldn’t have wasted 30 years of my life being complacent. But I can’t change the past, I can only change life from this moment forward.

So for you- don’t wait another day to start your own life transformation. Who cares if it’s Thursday and the weekend is coming? Nobody says your destiny can only change on a Monday. Or after the holidays. Destiny waits for no man. Or woman.

Your destiny can start today.

My question is this.

Do you really want it to?

The Nitty Gritty of my Nitty Gritty

2011-10-31T00:41:00.002-05:00

Yes, yes, yes.

In order to make a dramatic comeback to the world of blogging (and to ensure the highest number of blog hits possible :::GRIN::: ) I am going to talk about the one subject I have NEVER BROACHED on this blog.

SEX.

To be fair, I have had fantastic reasons for why I keep this subject close to the vest. I don’t feel the world is entitled to know about what my husband and I do in the privacy of our marriage bed. What we do (and trust me, it’s just the normal stuff) belongs to us.

Also, with the exception of a few blogs that get it right, I feel like blogs which talk about sex get really vulgar and are in poor taste.

I’m going to attempt to hit the high class notes of this particular subject (although that statement in itself is rather silly, if I do say so myself) and talk about sex in a new way. While I was at Fitbloggin earlier this year, my roomie Sue (aka Mrs. Fatass) said that she had written a post once about getting her mojo back.

And frankly, that’s the route I’m going to take here.

I’m also going to start it from the most embarrassing story (one very FEW people have ever been told) to illustrate the ground I have covered over the timeline of the diet.

In the fall 2008, when I was at my heaviest, Matt and I were cuddling up on a chilly night. He was sweetly caressing my behemoth tummy in the dark, and bent down to kiss it. He paused for a moment, and said “Wait, isn’t that your boob?”

All of a sudden, and by no fault of Matt’s, our intimate time turned into a feeling of humiliation for me. I am a person of considerable drive, mind you, and to say I am still newlywed in love with my hubby would be an understatement. But in that moment, I realized that my overweight body had taken on a love life of its own, leaving Matt and I both behind.

It was a love life centered around 2 liters of coke and oreos.

Over the past 3 years I have whittled and chipped away at those insecurities regarding my body. I don’t doubt that Matt has always found me attractive, but when I scroll back through the before pictures I have, I wonder HOW he would have found me attractive. (Cause let’s face it- girls stew on questions like these for years.)

That’s the mystery of love I suppose, and this post is not exactly about love.

It’s about a woman who has gone from having her tummy mistaken for a boob into a woman who is blossoming into a self assertive cat on the prowl. (After this post, ya’ll might be thankful I rarely talk about sex!)

See, there was a time in my life when I looked at my body and just thought “This is as good as it’s ever gonna get.” And even in some of our more playful encounters, I had that sinking feeling inside me.

“I hope he doesn’t see that patch of stretch marks.”

“Can he feel the cottage cheese on my tukus?”

“For the love of all that is holy, DO NOT let him turn on the light!!!”

After that horrible belly-boob incident, I vowed that one day I wouldn’t have to worry about it any more.

Tonight, for the first time I can ever remember since I started doing the deed, how my body looked and felt were the last thing on my mind. In fact, they didn’t even cross my mind.

A) I didn’t feel the need to do a lighting test to make sure every single light in a 3 mile radius of our bedroom was turned off.

B) I didn’t feel the urge to lay on the bed at a particular angle so my belly would be tucked away safely under my side.

C) I didn’t adjust my boobs a billion times so when I laid on my back, the twins wouldn’t be laying on the floor on either side of the bed. (OK, that’s a slight exaggeration. But only by about a foot.)

There was nothing to be done except ENJOY THE MOMENT.

(And enjoy it I did.)

I know there are lots of movements and groups out there screaming “FAT IS SEXY!” And it can be sexy.

But it can also be dangerous. Of course for your body. But also for your emotional health. Heck, even for your love life.

I wouldn’t have believed it at all until I went through this journey. In fact, as a chubby girl for her entire adult life, I belonged to the “fat is sexy” club for a long long time. I made the best of my assets, girdled up the problem areas, and made sure I had the best looking hair and makeup possible. That worked for a while. But the problem with “Fat is sexy” doesn’t have to do with the weight itself. It has to do with the emotional hold the weight has over you.

How can you possibly embrace the intimate relationship in front of you when your brain is ticking off items from your checklist? (See items A through C above)

Because items A through C were never about my actual body, even though at first they seem like they are. They were always about feeling good enough about myself to let another person love me completely. To come out from the darkness of a bedroom and into a well lit area. (Disclaimer- well lit does NOT mean PUBLIC.)

This diet has taught me so many things about myself. What I am good at, what I fail at and need to work on, what I enjoy and what I dislike. It has forced me to put “taking care of me” on the top of my list day after day after month after year. Somewhere between the sweat and the scale and the shrinking- I LEARNED TO LOVE MY BODY FOR EXACTLY WHAT IT IS.

It’s not Hollywood. It’s not camera ready. It’s more renaissance woman than anything. But it’s all me. It’s a body that has worked hard for major change. It’s a mind that has gone from feeling hopeless to knowing that kicking butt and taking names is always an option. It’s about a heart that was once skittish to let people in, even my own husband, to a heart that’s delighting in getting close to others. It’s about learning celebrate with the lights on. (I still prefer candle light, but that’s just cause I’m all romantic.)

The fact is our sexual nature is a blending of all that we are. Body, brain, and heart, all working together. I was totally in sync for the first time. And I have never felt sexier.

So there it is.

My first blog post about sex.

A Letter to Bob Harper

2011-10-06T10:06:00.000-05:00

Dear Bob Harper-

This is a letter to let you know that you are no longer on my list of trainers I respect.

Last night for the first time I saw an advertisement for your version of weight loss pills.

And I was DUMBSTRUCK.

Because of all the people in the world who have sold out, I never expected you to be one of them.

Sure, I wasn’t all that surprised to see Jillian Michaels peddling her pills and exclusive diet plans all over the interwebs. She really likes herself. So it wasn’t a big deal.

BUT YOU???

You were always so granola and hugs and gentle talk while helping people on the Biggest Loser. There was a compassion I saw in you that I loved.

But all that is gone. No more love, no more respect.

Here’s the thing:

You and I both know that some convoluted pill filled to the brim with diuretics and caffeine isn’t going to help the majority of people. It’s not so bad for people with just a couple pounds to shed off, or to take your pills for a short time. (At least that’s what the FDA seems to claim.)

But for those of us out there who have big numbers to lose, pills aren’t the answer. You know it. I know it. But the rest of the world out there now sees your sweet granola face on the bottle, and they are trusting you to help them lose the pounds and inches they have never been able to lose. What happens when you and your pills let them down?

I’ll tell you what will happen. The next time they see someone who has lost a lot of weight they are going to be bitter. They are going to blame themselves for not being able to drop the weight. And they are going to stay fat and miserable.

I know that by selling these pills, you are going to make a fortune. More money than a humble blogger like me will ever see in her lifetime. You will have a wonderful house, fancy cars, and will never want for anything material in your life. But you will also have that nagging feeling in your heart that it all came at a price. Not a price YOU had to pay. But it’s going to cost the self esteems of hundreds of THOUSANDS of women and men out there, desperate to lose the weight. Is it really worth all that?

Because you seem to have forgotten some fundamental truths, I thought I’d give you a refresher course.

Here are the facts.

1. Losing weight and keeping it off is more than just a physical journey. If you don’t deal with the emotional issues of WHY a person is packing on the pounds, they aren’t going to find success.

2. There is no quick fix for fat. It takes a commitment of marriage like proportions to change your body and your heart from fat to thinny. Even most the folks who have been on the Biggest Loser put the weight back on after the show was over. Because they immersed themselves in the immediate change of 8 hours of daily physical activity, but had no idea how to keep the weight off once they were back in the real world.

3. YOU CAN LOSE WEIGHT WITHOUT PILLS, SURGERY, AND STARVATION DIETS. You just have to want it bad enough. I’m living proof of that fact, as the previous posterchild for the “I can’t lose weight no matter what I do” club. I wanted it so badly that I moved heaven and earth and my big butt until things changed. No pills, no surgery, no fasting. Just lots of hard work and determination. Until you can bottle those 2 things, diet pills will never work.

4. You are misusing the trust that people have in you for financial gain.

SHAME ON YOU.

Obviously, my diet plan has never been "perfect."

I’ve changed things up as I’ve gone through this journey. As my emotional dependence on food waned, I’ve been able to allow myself a little more freedom than I gave myself in the beginning. I learned how to maintain and continue my weight loss success in the real world. The fact remains that my BMI is no longer morbidly obese. It’s NORMAL. And the fact that I can now eat the foods I love without feeling guilty tells me I’m in a great place. Did I mention I can eat what I want WITHOUT POPPING A PILL FIRST? I simply eat smaller quantities. And I make more good healthy decisions than junk food decisions.

Honestly, Bob, I bet before this is all over you are going to wish you could take it all back. I don’t know how many people will be led astray by your products, feeling defeated because they couldn’t even lose weight with Bob’s pills. Well, DUH. Not even your granola face slapped on a box full of capsules can change America’s obesity problem.

But don’t you worry, Bob- I’ve got your back.

After people feel defeated and like no matter what they do they can’t lose weight, one day they will google the term “shrink my butt,” or “big butt scholarship,” (not even joking. I get lots of hits on my blog from searches for big butt scholarship, which leads them to the post about my faith being like a tampon.) and those people searching for help will find me. They will read how I’ve gone through this whole process when I wasn’t sure I would ever actually lose the weight. They will see that I’ve had ups and downs, but I never quit. I just kept trying, and learned to believe in myself instead of blaming myself.

And maybe, just maybe, I can be lucky enough to undo some of the damage you have done with your pills. Maybe I can help them try to believe in themselves and the power they hold inside once again. And just MAYBE, I can get them to throw their hat in the weight loss ring one more time, turning a phrase like

HELP IS NOWHERE

into

HELP IS NOW HERE.

People need to believe in themselves. When we have confidence inside, amazing things can happen. Life can change in ways we never thought possible.

And we don’t need pills to do it.

That’s all I have to say about this for now, Bob. I’m sorry you sold out. But hard working anti-pill bloggers like me and my friends will try to clean up the mess you are making. Feel free to write me back, Bob. I’m willing to listen to your side of this. And I will listen with an open mind.

BUT

People really do have what it takes to lose weight- they’ve already got it inside of them. They just have to believe in themselves instead of a granola face on a bottle.

Even if the body attached to the granola face is totally hot…

Sincerely,

Charlie, weight loss survivor

The Real Song

2011-09-20T09:55:00.000-05:00

I have once again neglected getting caught up on my blog.

I kinda suck like that.

But things are going ok round here.

Pretend baby bump is starting to unswell (a little) and as it turns out, my Gma Bush used to get a swollen tummy when she was stressed to the nines. So this weird condition might be genetic.

Kids are busy as heck, and keep me running round to showchoir rehearsals and playing chauffeur. Also, Amy, our oldest, now has braces, so we are broke.

Matt is busy directing Sweeny Todd, a dark musical about a razor slinging barber inflicting his own brand of justice on the world. We are doing lots of experiments with fake blood. And it’s awesome.

And my weight is holding consistently between 145 and 148.

So that’s the basic stuff. The life bits that are keeping me from blogging.

But the exciting news?

I’M GETTING A PIANO.

Not a junkie free piano that sounds like its previous life was lived in a honkey tonk. Nope, a bonafide studio piano that has a beautiful sound and is in mint condition. It’s also free, an added bonus both Matt and I appreciate.

So after trying to figure things out as far as “do we have room for a piano” and “how are we going to move it” it finally seemed both best for us and the party who is giving us Beauty (yes, that’s the piano’s name. We name everything around here. Including the dog toys. They are all named Steve. Long Steve, Mini Steve, Christmas Steve, Ball Steve…. You get the picture.) if Beauty was moved by a professional. We don’t have to do a thing but unlock the door and have her brought in. Which is far less stressful than getting a group of folks together to move her. WORTH EVERY PENNY!

Having a piano in the house is one of those things I’ve always wanted. One that’s in tune and I can plunk around on. I own a keyboard, and it’s useful for some things. But it doesn’t have the same sound as a piano. It’s almost like after playing on a piano, the keyboard sounds counterfeit. It sort of feels like you are playing the right notes, but there is something magical that’s missing.

That’s how my life has been for the past few years. Counterfeit. I was playing all the right notes, but something was still missing.

It wasn’t until I started to lose weight and delve into the “deep forgotten parts of Charlie” that I realized my song sounded so empty. I did all the same things I do now, volunteer at the kids’ schools, acted on stage, wrote music, lived my life…

but now…

NOW!

Now my life is filled with hope and joy. Not because I have battled against fat and won (or mostly won- these last few pounds are taking forever!) but because I have faced the deepest depths of who I am. I brought it out into the light of day, shared it with you, and owned up to it.

Emotional pain. Battle scars. Fears. Brokenness. Shredded self esteems. Neurosis. HURT.

I picked up those pieces of me that were once hidden, and shared them with you. More importantly, I made it ok for me to not be perfect anymore. I went from living counterfeit, acting like nothing was wrong, to admitting that life was less than great, and “fighting my weigh” through it all.

Maybe you are dealing with some counterfeit issues in your life too. Maybe there are some parts that leave you gasping for breath from carrying the weight of it all. Not just your personal weight. The weight of your life. The weight of your image. The weight of it all.

I would love to tell you that I flipped a switch and it all got easy. But that is not the case. And it won’t be the case for you, either. If you are waiting for that switch to flip, get comfortable- you are going to be there a while.

Instead, you have to make the choice to change. It’s all up to you. You can read all the blogs, articles, medical journals, organizational help you want. But reading the answers and being inspired won’t do a thing unless you get up and put it into action.

“It doesn't matter how long we may have been stuck in a sense of our limitations. If we go into a darkened room and turn on the light, it doesn't matter if the room has been dark for a day, a week, or ten thousand years -- we turn on the light and it is illuminated. Once we control our capacity for love and happiness, the light has been turned on.” - Sharon Salzberg

Today, I am asking you to do one thing.

Love yourself.

Take the time to tell yourself what a rich and blessed person you are. Embrace ALL of you. Even the bits you don’t like. The parts you are desperate to change. Love it all.

Because the person you are today can dictate who you become tomorrow. I for one, want to use who I am today to inspire the me of tomorrow. To produce big changes.

I’m done with the counterfeit life. Even if I hit a few bad notes here and there, I’m happy to play the real thing. Unpolished, unpracticed, and filled with the magic of Beauty.

(And I’ll get better about blogging more frequently. I hope this post was worth the wait!!!)

I don't know what to call this...

2011-09-07T10:47:00.000-05:00

I have been avoiding this post for over a month now.

As in “EVERY TIME I THINK ABOUT THE NEED TO WRITE THIS POST, I CRINGE” kind of avoidance.

I am going through some Really. Hard. Stuff. at the moment.

I can’t share all of my burdens with you, because some of it involves some serious issues that have to be resolved in court this Friday. But I can ask you to lift my family (especially the kids) up in prayer this Friday and that God would surround our family with peace. Peace is what we need most at the moment. Peace that passes all understanding.

But, here’s the kicker.

(And oh, the irony of that statement…)

The mysterious orb is back.

Not just back-

IT’S BIGGER.

I am the thinnest I have ever been in my life, weight wise. Hanging between 145 and 148 on any given day. And you can see the proof of that in my face. I look great (although I could have used a little makeup! LOL!)

But then, when you see the whole body picture, the reality of what my body is going through becomes abundantly clear. (These pictures were taken the same night) (And ignore the laundry I was in the midst of folding on my bed...)

How this pretend baby bump is driving me to madness! Mostly because as a bonafide health and fitness blogger (at least in my own head), this is frustrating. I AM FIT- but my body doesn’t look fit exactly.

Quickly, I will run down some facts so we can talk about this in complete honesty.

A. I am NOT pregnant. Not according to the EPTs and Clear Blue Easies.

B. Physically, it would be impossible for me to actually get knocked up without surgery.

C. I seem to swell up like I’ve got a pumpkin in my belly when I am stressed out to 11.

So, I’m not preggers. It’s impossible. AND YET, it feels like I am. I am suffering from the cramps you get when your belly starts poking out in a real pregnancy- the uterine ligament pains. My back aches ALL THE TIME. My feet are swelling, and if I am on my feet for too long, the sides of my calves get to feeling full and tight, and I suffer some numbness. (So I work for 45 minutes and then sit down for 15.) I am craving gummy vitamins and vegetables and fruit. I feel like something is pushing up against my lungs when I am laying flat on my back, so I have to flip from side to side so I can be comfortable.

But most of all, it feels like somebody is playing drums in my belly. Day and night. Movement. Every once in a while I catch my belly moving on its own. Not a lot, but just a little bump here and there that feels like a foot.

Now, what I am experiencing is just gas bubbling through my intestines. Yet that doesn’t change the fact that it feels like a baby kicking. Actually, it feels like more than one.

And I have dreaded talking about this because I thought I had the problem licked. When this happened in April, it took me 2 full months of dieting and walking to get the belly to go back down. And it was small compared to the size of the orb now. (Not to mention I was 162 last time, and now I’m 15 pounds smaller! Weird, huh?)

I had let go of the hopes that God was growing a miracle in me. I had accepted it with grace, and moved on. I didn’t get bitter, nor did I doubt what God could do in my life or in my body. I am willing to let Him use my body to bring Him glory- even if that means I go through some really tough crap. Confusing crap. Crap that no one else has even heard of.

The real reason I am writing all of this down is because I am no longer willing to fall into the performance trap I am so familiar with. It is ok for me to not be perfect, to struggle, and to be wise enough to talk about it while it’s happening. So many people I know try to hold on to looking like nothing has ever gone wrong in their life. And I’m proud to say I’m not one of those people. Life keeps throwing me curve balls.

Right now I am stressed, confused, and most of all exhausted.

Friday is almost here and I want to barf from nerves.

BUT THROUGH IT ALL- THERE IS TRUTH.

GOD IS LOVING ME.

Praise be to the LORD,
for he showed me the wonders of his love
when I was in a city under siege. -Psalm 31:21

GOD IS FOR ME.

This I know, that God is for me. –Psalm 56:9

GOD IS WITH ME.

The LORD your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing. –Zephaniah 3:17

So really, it doesn’t matter what I am FEELING. My feelings about any issues in my life cannot change the truth. Truth trumps feelings every time.

My body is converting the mega stress I am going through and giving me something else to think about. With every gas bubble, every twinge, every bump that feels like a kick- I find myself smiling. Not because I actually think it’s a baby.

But I am using those physical cues to remind me of when I was pregnant with the kids so many years ago. How I loved feeling them kick and roll inside my tummy! I am using it to remind me how precious they all are (even though they don’t always ACT precious. GRIN) and that they are the most important people in the world of Matt and Charlie. These movements I’m feeling help me remember what a miracle each of our kids are, and how lucky I am to have a husband who CHOOSES to love them. Not because he has to, but because he wants to.

This pretend baby in my swollen tummy is reminding me that I got a second chance at life, love, and happiness. And I found it all.

Every “kick” is mirroring how I had to fight the battles against my weight, my depression from the aftermath of domestic violence, my wounded self esteem, and most of all- my broken relationship with God: I BATTLED FROM THE INSIDE OUT. And I am a stronger person today because of it.

I really have no good way to end this post, other than to say that through it all:

I’m choosing joy.

I’m choosing peace.

I’m choosing to trust.

And I can say that I am thankful for it all.

"I feel fat..."

2011-08-24T10:19:00.001-05:00

Last night, I had a beautiful conversation with my beautiful daughter Natalie. She’s the middle kid, in 5^th grade, and she will be 11 this fall.

And she is under the impression that she is fat.

Now, I take some responsibility for this behavior. Up until 2009 when I started this whole crazy weight loss journey (94 pounds gone! Woot!), my habits and eating were out of control. I didn’t model a life bounding with good choices, that’s for sure.

But since then, we have made a commitment to bring into this house foods we can ALL eat- me included. We’ve exercised as a family, eaten healthy foods as a family, and tried to change our collective ways.

And yet…

Natalie still feels fat.

So here is my mama mantra on how to handle it.

1. COMPASSION COMPASSION COMPASSION

This is an important first step. It doesn’t matter if your kid is actually struggling with being fat or not. That doesn’t change the fact they FEEL fat. If I simply said “You aren’t fat, don’t worry about it” then that tells my child that their feelings aren’t valid. Feelings are feelings, if they are true or not. We can’t help the way we feel sometimes. There are days I wake up and STILL FEEL FAT, even being so close to my goal weight. So it would be selfish of me to dismiss that my daughter (or son) might feel the same way. Last night I did my best to remind my sweet girl that “I don’t care about your number. I care about NATALIE.” We do our best to provide unconditional love regardless of the situation at hand. Circumstances, troubles, and pounds will come and go. But your child is a person forever. No matter what they are facing, we want all our kids to know that they are free to express their feelings without being chastised. Their feelings, true or false, still feel true. And in order to have a lasting relationship where your kids will talk to you, let them share what they are going through. We can’t always fix things as parents, but we can always listen.

2. Ask them questions about their attitudes towards food.

Things like “What is your favorite to food to eat when you feel sad? Happy? Bored?” These are most likely your child’s trigger foods. We’ve all got them, and age doesn’t change the fact they are human. “What food keeps you full the longest?” I was surprised at this, because the things she thought were filling were foods I know don’t hold those properties. Get to know your child’s responses to food. Every person’s BODY is different, and investigate the food-body relationship with your child. Explore your own food-body relationship as well! Let them know you don't have it all together either, so there is no pressure for your child to feel perfect. Every one struggles, even moms and dads!

3. Stress to them the importance of balance.

If we lived in a perfect utopia, there would be fresh fruits and veggies and nuts and seeds and grasses that tasted like cookies. But we don’t. And when your child is at grandma’s or a friend’s or someplace other than with you, they are going to be forced to make their own food choices. After learning the hard way for myself, I’m now fighting to teach my kids that balance is the key to a great lifestyle and relationship with food. It’s unfair to keep them from eating ice cream all the time. But it’s in your kid’s best interest to know that you can’t make that choice every day and expect to be healthy. Here’s how our family has taken on teaching balance. When the kids ask for something like ice cream for snack, we simply say this: “Ice cream is delicious. But is there a better choice you could make right now?” Frankly, sometimes, they just want ice cream. And that’s ok. But other times, (and often to our surprise) they will opt for a fro-yo instead. Or carrot sticks. Or fresh cherries. In my mind, if I can get them to ask that question of themselves every time they make a food choice before they move out of the house, then Matt and I have done our jobs as parents.

4. Look for ways your child can empower themselves.

Part of the problem when you are a kid is you often feel powerless. You can’t just go work out at the YMCA because you want to. There are schedules and activities to work around, dinner and homework, and sometimes mom and dad are just plain worn out and need a break from playing chauffeur. Try to find ways your child can make the best decisions in their own time. When they read for homework, can they sit on an exercise ball and work their core? (Of course, to a kid, it’s just cool and fun!) Can you make a basket of healthy snacks with different options so your child can choose their own filling snack? Can they help pack a healthy lunch to keep them doing well at school?* Let your child be in the driver’s seat as much as possible, to start forming good habits now that will last them a lifetime.

(*Special note: This is one area I don’t have to worry about. My kids attend the healthiest elementary school in America. Not even kidding. We won an award last year and are currently the only K-5 school that has won the Gold Award from the Clinton Foundation. CNN even came and did a special about it. Here’s the short clip for those who missed it. We are still waiting for the in depth special to air. But you can see Amy on this clip! :) (A brief commercial will play before the actual video.)

5. And finally-

Under no circumstances does a parent need to say any combination of the following phrases:

Yes, you do need to lose weight.

I just want to help you drop some pounds.

You need to be skinnier.

INSTEAD- ALWAYS USE PHRASES LIKE THIS:

Let’s work together to help you be healthier!

I’m excited about the great choices you are making for your body!

I’m so proud of the choices you are making in taking control of your health!

I can see a healthy glow on your face!

Your child’s physical health is of the utmost importance, don’t doubt that. But their emotional health will play a huge role in their physical health. As parents, we must remember that!

Teach your kids that healthy choices don’t start on their plate. Healthy choices start in their mind. If your child is still struggling, just keep up a gentle loving network of encouragement. When a child knows they have unconditional love and support, they can do anything they set their mind to!

The Wax Wo-Man Cometh...

2011-08-02T09:48:00.000-05:00

There is probably some language in these videos that a few folks may find questionable. But we were waxing my armpits, and therefore I cannot be held accountable. Plus, it's mostly the language of everyone around me.

Enjoy!

Cheer Up with Jack Sh*t

2011-08-01T12:36:00.000-05:00

Today's message is brought to you by Jack Sh*t- America's leading health and snark blogger. I'm honored to say he's a friend and I have the pictures to prove it...

So enjoy this special message from Jack!!!

Cheer Up!
Let’s face it: we all have our bad days.

Our nothing-goes-right, everybody-sucks, I-hate-my-life days when we’d just like to curl up someplace and die. Or better yet, we’d prefer if everybody else would just curl up and die, preferably quietly yet in a bitter, painful manner. Maybe some kind of slow-acting poison…  

However, living beneath these dark clouds simply isn’t healthy. How can we dig ourselves out of this rut and embrace all of life’s rich goodness and endless possibilities? How can we infuse ourselves with warm positive vibes and fresh constructive energy? I’m glad you asked…

• Dance like nobody’s watching you through your living room window; no… move a little bit to your left…

• Watch the movie Titanic backwards… then it’s about a magic ship that rises from the depths of the ocean and a handsome young man who miraculously comes back to life after drowning, then falls in love with a wonderful woman… and then gets off the ship and never sees her again. Dammit… that didn’t cheer me up at all!

• Make something fun–yet healthy–to eat, such as “Ants on a Log.” Simply smear peanut butter on celery stalks and then put some ants on top. Yummy!

• Make it a “Do Something Nice for Me” Day, and when I say “me,” I’m literally referring to myself. Come to my house and do something nice for me (preferably laundry).

• Take ownership of your job and work just as hard as you possibly can every single day (I’m sorry… that one was just for me… it always makes me bust out laughing every time I think about it… “work as hard as I can every day”… BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

• Imagine that you are breathing in happiness and farting out rainbows.

• Try a daily affirmation, such as “Affirmations aren’t really as stupid and silly as I think they are.”

• Be your own cheering section (cheerleading outfit required).

EDITORS NOTE: Matt and I totally have this one covered...

• Ask yourself “What can I do now to be more happy?” and then do that thing.

 Is Jack Sh*t America’s greatest hero? That’s hard to say for certain, but what we do know is that he is chronicles his own weight-loss misadventures and explores the lighter side of lightening up at Jack Sh*t, Gettin’ Fit. It should be noted that a Google search of the term “Jack Sh*t: America’s Greatest Hero” produces zero results.

Christmas in July

2011-07-24T11:33:00.000-05:00

I am starting this blog off with a HUGE disclaimer.

I am going to use the V word. I’m not going to tell you when, but I feel since I have been in the company of one for the past 33 years, I am entitled to use the word once in a while. And this blog post contains no sexual content either. In fact, it’s content is the least sexy variety one could possibly have.

And thus begins my story.

This past week we have been in the middle of a heat wave. A real scorcher. That can’t be avoided, and other than making the off handed comment about the fact it’s hot outside, nothing can be done about the weather.

Likewise, nothing can be done about the fact mother nature decided this was the BEST POSSIBLE TIME to visit me. Of course, it always happens that way, doesn’t it?

Furthermore, I’m not sure if it was a reaction to the heat wave or what, but the past few days, I have been in utter agony from Frank and friends. Frank is the lone hemorrhoid left over from my pregnancies, and he acts up from time to time. But this week, for whatever reason, he has been joined by some cohorts in crime, and I will not even dignify them with names, as I did Frank. No sense inviting such riff-raff to hang around any longer than they must.

So the heat index is 80 gajillion degrees, I’m sweating buckets (as is everyone around me) and it hurts to walk. Makes for some uncomfortable moments, to say the least. It was only irritating at first, but as the week progressed, my uncomfortable state grew. And no amount of Preparation H was doing the trick.

Which brings me to this afternoon. In a state of nothing short of agony, I googled “home remedies for hemorrhoids” and started reading some forums. And there it was.

VICKS VAPO RUB.

And I thought to myself “Self, that seems like a right smart solution.”

I sent Matt to the Dollar General, and he picked up a bottle of Vicks for me. Cause there was no way I was going to walk across a parking lot without some backup.

He brought home the little bottle, I dropped my drawers, and slapped it on.

AND FINALLY.

A little relief.

Enough to allow me to be able to go do my job for the kids’ show tonight. Cause there were girls that needed curls and French rolls for their show “The Little Princess” and while the other mom’s could have covered for me, I felt I needed to be there.

I was walking around the house like things were almost normal. I wasn’t fast, per se, but I was moving without looking like I was 80, and that was an improvement. I felt that I had finally gotten the message across to Frank and friends that it was time to G.O. and I was willing to do whatever it takes to help them make a hasty retreat.

And in that moment of confidence and delight that the REAL trouble began. Because that’s just how my life works. I’m not complaining, mind you, simply speculating…

Like the fact that today my purse wound up with gum on the bottom of it, and I thought I got it all until someone put it on the couch for me, and realized I had missed a little. But thankfully it all went from the bottom of my purse and stuck on the couch, which was convenient. Kinda.

Or the fact that today I dropped my favorite travel mug that says “I’m a mom, so I’ll be drinking this coffee when it’s cold” on the street outside and it busted. Like- into a million pieces busted.

That kinda stuff happens in my day to day- everyday. I’m pretty much used to it, and count it as part of my charm.

But tonight, there was no charm involved. Not even a little bit.

See, remember I said that mother nature had visited this week?

Well, 2 minutes before we had to leave, I decided to change my tampon, just to be safe.

I did not consider that Vicks Vapo Rub is a somewhat slimy greasy substance. It doesn’t necessarily stay where you put it.

It has a tendency to migrate.

Which I discovered NANOSECONDS after my tampon was in.

All of a sudden, I lifted off of the toilet seat and YELPED. It took me a moment to get my bearings because I was seeing stars. Like I had just stuck a popsicle in my whoosey-whatsy.

It was like having Christmas in my vagina.

Only the frosty feeling wouldn’t go away. Not even a little. I pulled out the offending tampon, which simply re-applied the little glob in the other direction. Then I took some toilet paper and tried to wipe some of it off. Problem was, the Vicks was EVERYWHERE, and the heat from my body just made it that much more un-viscous. No matter how much I wiped, still Vicks remained. And still the ice like sensations continued. Waves of chills crept through my body, especially since the central AC vent is right in front of the toilet, and was blowing full blast, right in my general lower regions.

With tears in my eyes, I stood and yanked up my unders as simultaneously as a woman in my predicament could. Knowing there was no time for a bath before showtime, I simply had to make the best of my situation.

And I would have too, if it weren’t for the walking.

I never realized how much the inside of your ladyself rubs together when you walk. But with every step, I could feel the burnings (which were somewhat like ice and somewhat like fire) caused by Vicks and friction.

Left with no choice but to press on, I walked in as many steps as I could to the van, sat down, and relaxed.

Then I avoided stepping as I worked on little girls’ hair. I had them do the majority of moving and tried to stay as still as possible.

When every bow was in place and every curl was sprayed with Rave, I made my escape. Coming home, I tried to sit in a cool bath, which was anything but pleasant. But a hot bath would only antagonize Frank and friends. Finally, I decided that my only course of action was to hold ice packs on my rumpus and sit still.

So that’s exactly what I did, only I had no ice packs. Instead, I improvised by using wrapped up blocks of frozen cheese.

And I learned it takes me exactly 43 minutes to defrost a block of cheese with my butt cheeks…

and that Frank is a REAL pain in my butt.

Life as we knew it

2011-07-18T10:12:00.000-05:00

Today is Monday.

The day when lots of folks start their diets again.

Maybe it’s you. I know for me, I’ve been sitting in the land of 150’s long enough. I’m taking this Monday as a day to begin things fresh. Yep, I’m kick starting my diet again.

This last week, with the horror-moan induced calling to eat crap, I bounced up and down all week, ranging from 152-156 the whole time. But today, I’m starting my week at 151.4, which is fairly respectable considering.

And I’ve got to think.

I have 12 pounds between me and my goal weight.

WHAT IS STOPPING ME FROM HITTING THAT GOAL?

I’ve grown comfortable with saying I’ve lost almost 90 pounds. I’ve enjoyed the feeling of buying a size 9-10 dress at the thrift store because there’s a good chance it will fit. (Which it did. The next date night Matt and I have, there will be pictures. Cause it’s AN AWESOME DRESS!) I’ve grown accustom to my face looking different, being able to feel my ribs for the first time in my life.

But I am still uncomfortable with the thought of being a girl with no more weight to lose.

I still have that feeling that Charlie must always be on the road to lose weight.

Because that’s the only road I have ever known.

So where does the road go after a diet is over, and the weight loss road has ended? I know, in the literal sense, there is then the road to maintenance- keeping yourself at goal.

But I’m talking figuratively. The bigger picture…

What happens during a life after the diet?

I guess I’m just going to have to find out…

Taming the Dragon...

2011-07-12T12:40:00.000-05:00

It has been a long couple of weeks since I have posted.

Normally in the dieting blog world, when a site goes dark, nothing good is happening.

But that’s not the case here.

We’ve been rocking and rolling. Lots of great things.

Like summer break with the kids, and us enjoying every moment we can. A musical for the kids. And then there’s this little guy…

Merlin, the actual puppy. We got him from a family here in town. He’s a mutt, but boy does he look like a Newfoundland… which means he’s gonna be a horse. And you may recall that one of my greatest fears happens to be dogs.

Yet I’m finding that all the things I was once afraid of are not so bad.

(Except rats. I will probably be terrified of rats forever. I make no apology for that.)

Here’s the thing. I feel like right now it’s time for me to dive into all the things I have been avoiding in my life. I’ve gone through all my “stuff” and gotten rid of all the things I held onto. Be it personal possessions or attitudes and thoughts, I’m learning to conquer everything, one battle at a time. Some battles require backup, but I’ve got a fantastic support system in place to see me through.

And here’s a video (with my camerawoman Racy Tracy laughing through it all) about me doing just that. Taming the dragon within. Except this dragon is an actual dragon…

Taming the Dragon from Charlie Hester on Vimeo.

In Living Color...

2011-06-30T15:41:00.003-05:00

This is the picture that Jia made for me.

Because Jia is starting out at almost the same size I was- pound for pound, inch for inch.

When I look at this picture, it's hard for me to grasp the changes I see. Not only the physical elements, but the emotional ones as well.

There is a relief I see on my face now. Is my life any easier than when I started? Not really. But do I look at life differently now?

HOLY CRAPBALLS, YES I DO!!!!

There are chances I want to take. Items on my "Things to do before you turn 80" list I want to check off.

But most of all, I never want to live my life in the Black and White and Greys again.

See, the girl in the grey didn't take chances. She lived by playing it safe. She shut herself up in her house, limited her exposure to the outside world (can we say agoraphobia?) and lived happily in the comfort of her couch's butt-dent. She thought that failing was the worst thing that could ever happen to her.

But the girl in the color pictures?

She knows that failure isn't the worst thing that can happen.

The worst thing that could ever happen is sitting on her couch wondering "WHAT IF I HAD TRIED MY BEST?"

Failing at anything isn't such a bad thing. We take lessons away from our failures. We grow. We change our strategy. And most of all, we know what not to do next time.

For me, the growth I have encountered during my failures has been remarkable.

I didn't always lose weight every week.
...and I learned patience.

I didn't always succeed on particular diet plans.
...and I learned to listen closely to my body.

I didn't always like an exercise.
...and I learned to build character by returning until I liked it.

I didn't always fit into my goal clothes.
...and I learned to look back on the clothes that I shrunk out of instead.

I didn't always like the scale.
...and I learned to like the changes I saw in measurements and how I felt.

It's ok for us to be uncomfortable. It's ok to hurt. It's ok to feel hungry sometimes. It's ok to be dissapointed. But I wouldn't have known all those things unless I had failed in some way.

The girl who is grey in those pictures was afraid to try ANYTHING.

But the girl with the trashy bleached blonde hair is ready for adventure. She's ready to open up her life for something more than what she ever thought possible.

She's got living color.

Do you?

TAKE IT BACK

2011-06-27T12:42:00.000-05:00

Every time I ever told myself I couldn’t lose weight…

I take it back.

Every time I ever beat myself up for letting my weight get so out of control…

I take it back.

Every moment I let the negative overwhelm me until I completely missed the positive…

I take it back.

Every second I let myself believe I was not a person of incredible worth…

I take it back.

All the times I believed I was unlovely…

Yep, taking it back.

Each situation I mishandled in my past, forgetting to show grace under pressure…

Taking it back, too.

Every time I forgot to love the woman within me as a unique individual instead of the mother/wife/domestic engineer description I usually fall into...

IT ALL COMES BACK.

Hi.

My name is Charlie.

I am an entirely new person, inside and out.

I believe in myself.

I trust the decisions and actions I make.

My love for food no longer consumes me or dictates my moods.

I am in control of me.

I will not expect myself to achieve perfection. If I was perfect, I wouldn’t be the person I am. Instead, when I mess up, have a rough day, or make a poor choice- I WILL FIX IT without turning to food or letting my brain beat myself up for being human. I will also learn new lessons from my mistakes- I will seek to find all the reasons why I make the choices I did and become an educated person.

Today, I will love myself a little bit more. I will not punish myself for the decisions of my past. Instead, I will embrace the fresh start of today and wipe my slate clean. Today is the day I will listen to my heart before listening to the voices and opinions of others. They can attempt to tell me what they think is best for my life, but I am the only one who makes lasting choices for me. I live in this body, and I will respect this body, this mind and this heart.

Today, I am a new person. I am in control of me.

Today, I am taking ME back.

You're a GRAND OLD FLAG

2011-06-22T09:37:00.001-05:00

This is the court appointed week of my kids’ vacation with my ex. And it is extremely hard for me to walk around with my heart ripped in half during this week. It always is. These times of visitation are never easy for me.

But while my heart has been ripped in two, I have been taking time to explore the hurt parts of me that are still broken, still needing attention. They don’t come around, but 2 times a year, and instead of falling into the hole of depression and brokenness like I usually do, I am determined to make this the week I choose to see things differently.

Because that’s what hurt is for. To help you grow PAST who you used to be. To learn why things still hurt, and figure out the best way to heal your heart.

It has been 8 years since I took myself and my 3 babies into the women’s shelter. Back then, I was so exhausted, wounded and defeated, the fabric of my life was like a war-torn flag flying at half mast. I had been in such a dark place all those years, and was scared of the light. I was scared to look at my life in full view. Because I knew if I saw the broken woman I was at that time, I would start to ask questions.

“Why didn’t you stop this before it got to this point?”

“You have an almost genius IQ, and yet you were stupid enough to let this happen to you?”

“What did you do to cause all of this, because he said it was your fault…”

“What is wrong with you that someone would want to hit you and threaten your life?”

Those are questions I couldn’t face at that moment, freshly tucked away in the shelter. My first order of business was nothing more than primal survival. Making sure the kids had clean diapers on and were fed. Making sure they didn’t get hurt climbing up and down chairs and steps and things. Making sure I didn’t have a nervous breakdown. MAKING SURE I KEPT BREATHING, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted too. Those were the only things that concerned me.

It wasn’t until I had mastered those skills, that I was able to face the first of those questions. I hadn’t stopped it until it got to the point of violence I had because I trusted someone more than they deserved. When you only hear comments about what a waste of space you are, day after day after year, you begin to believe it.

I then moved from Survival Mode into re-discovering what was really inside the spaces of me. What makes me the person I am? This journey has been happening for a long long time, and I hope that it never stops. When I see parts of me I never knew existed, hidden behind the nooks and crannies of my heart, it still delights me!

I had no idea how much I enjoy GIVING. Blessing others with the things I’ve got. Sharing the things that I have. There were many times others shared with me when I didn’t have 2 nickels to rub together, and I remember what a blessing it was. To have things like toilet paper. Shampoo. Diapers. Coupons and gift cards for pizza places.

(Now that I am mastering the art of couponing, my goal is to begin to donate needed items back to the women’s shelter that saved our lives. Things like shampoo. Diapers. Food. Clothing. Toys. I know not all of you readers are from the Danville area, but I highly encourage you to call your local shelter for a list of needed items and pass it around to your friends to see what you can supply. You have no idea how much this blesses others, and it will bless your heart too. I PROMISE!)

My point is this. I know lots of you out there are flying the war-torn flags of your life at half mast. There are parts of you that are tattered and torn. You can keep running that flag up the pole day after day, or you can bring it down for a week and really look at it. See where it needs repair.

This week, with the kids being gone, I have brought my flag down and am really exploring it. “This is the time in my life I felt (this) after (that) happened.” And my goal is to begin to sew up the loose ends. Patch the holes. Re-dye the fabrics that were faded by harsh conditions. And after it’s been mended, I’m gonna run that bad boy right up the flag pole again and let that sucker fly. Even though my flag will never be shiny and new again, it will be my own. No one will ever try to claim that flag for themselves again.

When was the last time you really looked at your flag? When people see the flag of your life, what do they see? Do they see a confident woman (or man) who has paid attention to the details of their life? Or are there still big gaping holes that need to be tended too?

I am reading the book “When Women Walk In Faith” by Lysa TerKeurst, and she makes a great point. “Experiencing life change is not a matter of chance, it’s a matter of CHOICE…”

For me, this choice has been the one Lysa continues to describe. “…it’s a matter of CHOICE, choosing God’s ways instead of your own.” My faith has brought me through some of the darkest nights imaginable. While it is never my blog’s intent to be preachy, I encourage those of you who already have a relationship with God to really let that sit on your heart.

For those who perhaps don’t follow the same belief principles as I do, I highly encourage you to look deep inside your hearts. Begin to trust yourself. Become open to relationships with other like minded individuals that have been where you are. Look at their experiences, listen to their stories, look at the flags they fly over their lives.

Because no matter what has happened in your life- it is up to you to take care of your grand old flag.

Right now, my flag says “88 pounds down, and full of compassion.” (((GRIN)))

What about yours?

I NEED MY VAN BACK!!!

2011-06-16T10:10:00.001-05:00

Here's the deal.

We got the total bill for "Big Blue," our new mini-van that tanked out on me while I was driving to the airport to get to Fitbloggin. And it's $700.

We honestly don't have that. Not without taking another month to save up for it. And I'm getting desperate to get back Big Blue. Especially after I forgot to go pick up Matt at work yesterday afternoon, and left him sitting in his office for 30 minutes wondering where I was. (I was at home, painting the girls' toenails)

I started thinking of all the things I could do to raise the money. Sell a kidney, donate plasma, sell my treadmill (aka- the dreadmill) for a steal...

But even doing all of those things wouldn't get me close to the $700 mark. Well, perhaps selling a kidney would, but that's also illegal. So it's not going to happen.

Then I realized something. I wrote a book. A book I have been sitting on for over 3 years that I've never done anything with.

My Thinking Cap Ran Out of Batteries.

It's about motherhood and faith. And how to learn valuable lessons from the stunts your kids pull. It's really good. (But I'm biased. However, my mom, Margaret the Saint thinks it's good too! Wait, she's biased too...)

With the popularity of ebooks these days, there's really not much of a reason to kill a bunch of trees so I can be published on paper. And frankly, did I mention I'm getting desperate to get my van back?

SO...

I'm asking if you will buy my book.
(Purty Please?)

It's not even expensive. Only $9.99!

Here's the thing. I have set up a paypal merchant button on the top left hand of the blog, under the header. You will see where it says "Buy Now." If you click it, you can use pay pal or a major credit card to make your purchase. Make sure you list your email address in "notes to seller." Then, I will email you a copy of my book.

Here's the disclaimer. I don't have it available for devices like Nooks and Kindles. YET. But any money that I make over what I need to get the van back, I promise I will invest into making that happen. What you will get for the low low price of $9.99 is a document mailed to you in Word format. (I'm making chicken soup out of chicken poop, folks. It's what I've got.) If you have an issue with the format you get, just shoot me an email and I'll send you the kind you need.

Want to try before you buy? I posted a sample chapter of Thinking Cap a while back. This is Chapter 4, called TORNADO, and feel free to go back and read it before you decide. :) It is a Christian book, but it's funny and heartwarming and touching too. I grew a lot as a mother writing this book. So you might like it. It's about 100 pages long, so if you are thinking about printing it out, I want to give you fair warning.

HERE'S THE BEST PART.
I only need to sell 70 copies to get Big Blue back. THAT'S IT!!! I know I've asked you readers for lots of support emotionally, but this feels different. If I didn't think the book was good, I wouldn't do this. But I know this book means a lot to me. And since you are here, you know I don't suck so bad as a writer.

Maybe maybe maybe, could you pretty please with whipped cream and a cherry on top give me and my book a chance?

It just might bolstier my confidence enough to start working on "The Ultimate Fatgirl's Guide to Losing Weight and Not Hating it Too Much..." obviously that's the working title!

Much love,
Van-less Charlie

The Welcome Matt

2011-06-08T10:03:00.000-05:00

Dear Matt-

I am writing this letter to you in a public place because I want the entire world to know how I feel about you. I think that when you love somebody it shouldn’t be a secret, and the world needs to know what a wonderful man you are.

When we first met, I brought an entire lifetime of baggage. I didn’t trust “love,” I had no self esteem on a regular basis, and quite frankly, I was a mess. But somewhere in the hot mess I was, you scooped me up and found me lovely. Worth loving. You were the first man who ever found me deserving of a true love.

And I fought you on it. We both know that. I questioned your intentions, I argued your methods of loving me, and I kicked and screamed against you, all the while craving what you brought to my life. It wasn’t because you were doing things wrong. I just had no idea what true loved really looked like. I couldn’t pick a deep and lasting relationship out of a line up with only 2 choices. I was utterly clueless.

And through it all, you loved me. More and more every day. You let me kick and scream and fight you on stupid things. You let me peel off and show you the layers of me, one painful insecurity at a time. With every mask I removed, your love only intensified for me. I don’t know why, because the parts of me you saw weren’t pretty. They weren’t lovely. They were broken and scared, terrified with each new “part” of me that you would go running for the hills.

Yet it was to my intense delight, each of these moments made you run TOWARD me. You wrapped me in your arms and reminded me that I was safe. I was loved and desired. There was no place I could go where you would not come after me.

I know that you are not a Christian, but baby, your love is more Christ-like than you will ever realize. In my heart, when I think about the love and kindness of my King, I am reminded of his champion. YOU. Even though your don’t intend for it to do so, your love has taught me to love God in a deeper way. It was your love that helped me trust God could love me like He does. I know that it’s supposed to be the other way around, God’s love changing us so we can love others, but I have never been the girl who does things in the right order anyway. However it all came down, God brought you into my life at the time I needed you most. I didn’t necessarily think I wanted the kind of love you had for me, but I can see now how much I NEEDED your love in my life. I needed the whole and complete love to be demonstrated in my life. It was then that I really began to want to be the kind of spouse you are to me in return.

So, here are a few things I love completely about you.

1. The way you provide for our family.

I know we don’t always have great things. Most of our belongings are glued together or duct taped. Or stained. And I know sometimes our money doesn’t stretch out as far as we need it too. I never really thought about how that stresses you out, especially when I am buying things I “think” we need but can really live without. Yet you never complained about the purchases I thought were important. Instead, you just tried to figure out a better way to manage things, not manage me. We both know you are MUCH better with money than me, and even though I knew that, I never loved that about you before. But knowing how important that is to you, I love it now. And I will knock off the extra spending and clip coupons till I’m blue in the face if it helps remind you what a fantastic provider you are. You go into work every day without complaining, or needing to be prodded. You don’t work long hours like some men have too, and you always come home ready to be super daddy and mega husband. I am amazed at the level of generosity you have towards us- and to others. You are a wonderful provider.

2. The kind of Daddy you are.

The role of a step-parent is hard. You could have been one of those guys that comes into a family and says “I’m hands off- they are YOUR kids.” But from the first week, when 4 year old Natalie threw up all over your legs and into your hands as you tried to catch it, you have been the very best kind of parent. You are compassionate, tender, and patient- which is a rare combination in this day and age. Even when the kids are bouncing off the walls (as they often do) you deal with the chaos like a pro. When the kids have questions, you don’t make up answers so you look like a know-it-all. Instead, you work with them to find the correct answers and learn right alongside the kids. It takes a big man to admit he doesn’t know something in front of his kids. But you make everything fun. You take the time to let them learn how to do new tasks, even when that means the job is going to take twice as long as you originally intended. You never chastise them for the learning curve they have, or make them feel like they are doing something wrong. Instead, you are a constant source of encouragement for them to expand their wings. I look at the way our family behaves, and it warms my heart. Our kids aren’t afraid to live in this home. We are not ruled here with an iron fist. Instead, you have made sure we are safe and secure and all of us know we are loved. I am amazed at the kind of Daddy you are, and I love you all the more for it.

3. You are the Dream Weaver

This is one of the most important things for me. One day, the kids will grow up and move out. And it will just be you and I in the house. That is why I cannot thank you enough for not only encouraging me, but insisting that I pursue my dreams. Neither one of us want to wake up 20 years from now and wonder why we never took a chance at something we wanted. And you have made it clear that right now is my turn to chase down my dream of being a bonafide author and speaker. You allow me the freedom to write and make music and create. When my first article was published in P31 Magazine, you celebrated with me, cheering me on to continue what I was doing! If it hadn’t been for you reminding me that not only do I have talents, but it’s my job to use them, I would never have reached for the stars. I never realized my dreams were so important until you allowed me to keep dreaming bigger. And to keep reaching for it. The most amazing words you have ever spoken to me (besides “You are SAFE.” That’s number 1) were “I believe in you and what you can do. Go for it.” THOSE WORDS gave me a freedom I have never known. You made my dreams important, and for that I owe you more than either of us can ever pay. (Even though you are a fantastic provider!) Thank you, my darling, for believing in me.

4. The size of my Love

You loved me completely when I was the fattest I have ever been. You loved me unconditionally when I was depressed about my body. You made me feel beautiful, inside and OUT. And the fact that I’m skinnyish now hasn’t changed how you feel about me. Granted, it’s changed how I feel about me, which has allowed our love to intensify… but your love has been as constant as the stars above. You do not place limits or conditions on your love. You love me for the sake of loving me. That only makes me love you more. What a beautiful cycle that has become, huh?

I hope after reading this post, you are encouraged, my love. I could live without you, but I don’t ever want too. Thank you for being my best friend, my partner, my biggest fan, and my husband.

All my love forever-

Sugar Butt

The Weigh things have CHANGED...

2011-06-02T16:14:00.000-05:00

Yep. I’m talking about THE BIG change.

No, not menopause…

The change from fat to skinny.

Apparently I’m there. Over the past few days, I have been in various social situations where I have come into contact with people who haven’t seen me for a while. And the reactions have been interesting.

“WOAH. You are looking great!”

“I can’t believe how incredible you look!”

“Man, you have really changed!”

Now, I would like to think all of this is because I am happy and smiling more. Because I feel more like the me I’m supposed to be than I ever have before.

But it’s not.

People are remarking on the change they see- because my body has finally given over to the fact I’m sticking with this diet thing till the bitter end. And it’s bending to my will at last.

So on the outside, I guess things look really different. (Indulge me for a quick before and after photo session, for I cannot resist... lol)

But on the INSIDE, well, that’s where things are the most different.

But you can’t see that part in a before and after picture.

One of the phrases that stuck with me the most from Fitbloggin was when my darling friend Karen said “It’s about learning not to let the food control you, then learning how to not control the food.”

And that’s where I am.

Food doesn’t have power over me. But more importantly, my life isn’t hyperfocused on controlling my food intake either.

I still eat potato chips. The occasional breadbowl from Dominos. Chocolate cake. French Fries.

But I’ve learned how to stop stressing out over the fact I chose to eat those things. They aren’t any more or less fuel for my body than an apple, asparagus, broccoli, or skinless chicken breasts. It’s all just food to me.

They aren’t trigger foods, emotional escapes, or crutches anymore.

And I have a healthier relationship with food now than I’ve ever experienced in my entire life!

I know that lots of you on the journey of weight loss aren’t there yet. And that’s ok. It’s taken me since 2009 on this nutty diet to get there myself. And if you go back in my archives, you will be assured this feeling about food wasn’t the case for a long long time. It was a process. A really long irritating heartbreaking frustrating process. (Which was only exacerbated by owning a scale and having to take the lumps for emotional eating… which made me want to eat more… you know the cycle just as well as me.)

But now that I’m here, I refuse to let myself put food on a pedestal again. It will never hold me captive on the couch again. I’m running free now. I’ve broken out of my own fat prison.

So if you see me out and about, and want to comment on how much my body has changed, that’s totally fine. I’ll tell you I’ve lost 84 pounds (ALMOST AT 85, just ounces away!!!) and might even do a little spin.

But you can’t see the most important part of it all.

I FEEL FANTASTIC. I’m in control of all the things I should be, and have let go of the things I have no business trying to control. For the first time in my life, I’m proud of the body I’ve got- backfat, stretch marks, flabby arms and all. I’m not going to say things can’t get better, because I will never limit my opportunities for success again. Life is pretty gosh darn spectacular for me right now, but the sky really is the limit for where things can go from here!

And THAT, my friends, is the best part about the weigh things have changed!!!

Charlie goes to the Airport: TAKE 2

2011-05-31T10:10:00.000-05:00

This video chronicles my journey to get home from FitBloggin.

The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl and her sidekick Goober Charlie

2011-05-26T10:15:00.000-05:00

*Note to readers: There are going to be a few posts about Fitbloggin over the next 2 weeks. It’s taking me a long time to process this info, plus I have the added stress of UNPACKING MY DANG HOUSE, but I promise not to let these get boring. You know that’s a promise I can keep!

You all might recall I have a hard time meeting people I really admire. I get nervous, palms get sweaty, I say stupid things… the usual. And with the added pressure of KNOWING FULL WELL I was gonna meet Dietgirl, well, let’s just say in usual Charlie fashion, I was a mess about it.

After getting to the airport on Thursday and the fiasco that all was, including the 1.5 hour shuttle ride to GET from the airport to the hotel, well, it was just rough. I felt rough. I felt discombobulated. And I wanted just one glass of wine to calm me down.

So I get to the fitbloggin mixer, found my roomie for the night, Steve (more on the fabulous roomies in a later post), and we dropped off my luggage in the room. Then we headed back over to the hotel restaurant so I could get some food. And Steve told me there was a group of us meeting there.

A group? MORE LIKE FREAKING DIET BLOG ROYALTY!

MizFit, Dietgirl, JackSht, Karen Anderson, Christie Inge… the big ones. The ones I’ve been stressing about meeting.

So I’m sitting there at the table, trying to look all cool (after I did the Wayne’s world ‘I’m not worthy’ move at JackSht’s feet. No lie. I’m humble like that.) and not act like I was ready to pee my pants from the excitement of it all.

That was when the waiter, who speaks no-good English, brought the bread and butter. Only the butter looked like a thin wedge of cheese. And there was something totally shaped like a ball on the plate next to the butter.

“Excuse me, sir, but what is this ball thing?”

“It’s crap.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Crap.”

(Translation from not-good English to English: CRAB)

Well, that (plus the glass of white wine) totally sent me into fits of giggles. Didn’t matter if I was sitting right across from Dietgirl (whose name is Shauna, BTW). I had no composure to keep my mouth from running. So I kinda acted like a goober. Plus, Shauna’s accent is so flipping adorable! Not to mention the moments we are speaking the same language, but it’s different words for different things. Just had me cracking up with obnoxious laughter! Plus, she was very interested in my uber red lips, and how I make it work since red is a hard color to keep on your lips. We had a discussion about that!

Sending her a direct tweet later that night (cause we’ve been exchanging DMtweets!), I told her this: ‘Sorry I acted like such a goober tonite. I’m still a little star struck!’

(Understatement of the year)

To which she tweeted me back and assured me she didn’t think I acted like a goober and was perfectly fine. Bless her heart.

On Friday, there was the 5K (which I slept through), Zumba (which clearly as the picture illustrates, I was working hard at…watching Jack throw apple cores in the hotel hallway...)

The "I'm not going into that Zumba Room" Club 

L to R: Me, JackSht, and Tracey Jones

(Photo by Susan Ito, AKA FoodieMcBody)

And finally, the evening affair I’d been waiting for: The solo performances of Foodie McBody and Paolo Sambrano. Guess who sat at my table? SHAUNA.

See?

From L to R: Shauna, Karen Anderson, Tracey Jones, and Christie Inge

And she was just as sweet and funny as she was the first night. I was a little less goober-rific. Not much, but a little.

On Saturday, I went to the “Intuitive Eating” session, which Shauna was moderating. And the session as a whole was so much more than I could have dreamed. By far my favorite session of the weekend. Intuitive eating is about listening to the cravings of your body and entering moderation into the mix: Essentially, not letting the food control you, but not forcing you to control the food either.

Shauna started talking about the fact that she bought some KitKat bars, and they had been sitting on the counter for a while. She decided she would finally eat them, and offered some to her husband. Half to be exact.

The story went on that her hubs said, “Are you sure you want to share?”

To which Shauna said, “Oh, yeah, cause 2 fingers is enough for me.”

CLASSIC LOST IN TRANSLATION MOMENT. I didn’t think about KitKats having fingers, but they kinda do! Of course, being sleep deprived and giddy, my brain didn’t interpret it that way. NOOOOOOOOOO. I went into the gutter with it. And started CRACKING UP SNORTING.

About that time, you saw the wave of laughter working its way through the crowd. And Shauna was the last person to get it- I blame the lost in translation, because she’s smart as a whip. Which made it even funnier!

So of course, later that day during MY session with JackSht and Mrs.Fatass, I had to whisper that into the mic.

Just once.

“2 fingers worth.”

And everyone who had been at the Intuitive Eating session burst into laughter.

Shauna caught me in the hallway later and said something like “I heard you mentioned my 2 fingers and now everyone’s talking about it!”

I just nodded my head and grinned, because it really was one of the funniest lines I had ever heard!

We decided that later that night she was gonna stop by our hotel room and have a cocktail with us. SQUEEEEEEE! So we kinda got things together in our room. I ran down to the hotel store (AKA Overpriced Gas Station) and got a bottle of Bud Light and some orange juice. I wasn’t about to drink tequila like the rest of the gang. Noooooo, I’m too much of a lightweight for that. I needed just a little. So Beer and OJ, which we call a “poor man mimosa” was in order. I also picked up a little gift for Shauna, just in case she really did stop by.

Pretty soon, my phone tweet alert went off:

Shauna- Are you still going up there? :)

Charlie- Yes, and I have a silly gift for you up here!!! Come on up!

Immediately the energy in the room intensified. It was me, Mrs. Fatass, Steve, and Sean. And we all just had one collective crap our pants moment. The flurry of excitement exploded in our 21^st floor hotel digs. “She’s coming! OMGosh! Shauna is gonna hang out with us!”

Of course, when she walked into the room, we were cool as cucumbers. All our hearts were racing, but Shauna? She kicked off her shoes, plopped down on a bed, and was even more awesome than I could have imagined!

I told her I was so thrilled, and I felt like I was meeting diet royalty, and her response was (and imagine her saying it with an Australian accent, cause that makes it even cuter)… “That’s just shite. I’m not royalty, I only went on this journey before you did.” If there were ever words that would make me love her more, those were it. Because she DOESN’T have a big head about things. She is a published author, wildly popular podcaster, and long time blogger with a huge following. Yet, there she was, kicking back like the rest of us, enjoying her poor man mimosa I made for her.

And the silly gift I had for her? It was a king size KitKat. (Hilarious to give someone at a health and wellness blog convention…) And her words about that were ones I will never forget.

“There must be AT LEAST SIX FINGERS in here!”

PRICELESS.

(I was cheesing SOOOO HARD!!!)

Shauna is one of the most wonderful people I have ever met. Warm and sweet, funny and smart, and so beautiful. Of all the “famous people” I’ve ever met, she is top of the list.

And I’m happy to have been her gooberific sidekick. Even if it was just for the weekend.

You can purchase Shauna’s book, The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl, and I highly suggest you do. It's a read you will NEVER forget!

The first leg of Fitbloggin: Charlie goes to the airport

2011-05-23T22:43:00.002-05:00

It was a beautiful Thursday morning. I kissed my kids and husband goodbye, hopped into Big Blue (the new used van we have made exactly one, count 'em, ONE payment on...) and headed off to the interstate exit. I had made sure there was gas and oil the night before, so I had no reason to stop.

Low carb Monster energy in one cup holder, coffee in the other. No Doubt CD in the radio. Phone charging in the lighter thingy. Airport itinerary and ID's easily accessible. Packed to the gills and cape in suitcase.

I WAS UNSTOPPABLE! On my way to Fitbloggin!!!

That is until Big Blue made a weird noise. She seemed to still be going, and I was almost to the halfway point of getting to the airport (almost 2 hours away), so I slowed down a little. Maybe that was all she needed.

But then I realized I was going a little too slow for interstate driving. (Thank you drivers behind me by informing me with "polite honking." I didn't realize I was having a problem till you brought it to my attention...)
I had the gas pedal to the floor, and at 45 miles an hour and slowing, I realized something was SERIOUSLY wrong with Big Blue. I flipped on my hazards and coasted to the shoulder of the road. As soon as I came to a complete stop, Blue died.

I figured maybe if I sat there for 5 minutes, willing the problem away, there would no longer be a problem. (For the record, that was how I also dieted for a LONG time...) 5 minutes passed, and with all the confidence in the world, having sufficiently prayed the name of Jesus over my van, I knew my van would start.

Only it didn't. It was dead as a doornail.

Now, here was my dilemma. If I CALLED someone, and then the van started, it would all be for nothing, and I didn't want to bother anyone. But on the other hand, if Blue was down for the count, that was precious time I would have to get to the airport so I wouldn't miss my flight. Kind of a catch 22.

I decided to wait one more round of 5 minutes to see if I was in real trouble or not.

Yep, I was in trouble.

Now, here's the weird thing. Up until this exact moment, my cell phone was in a dead zone. No service, no signal. Nada. Zip. I looked at my phone, then up to the sky and yelled "I NEED YOU TO THROW ME A FREAKIN BONE!" (Me and Jesus are tight, so He doesn't take offense to me talking like that. He understands me.) And when I looked back down, not only did I have 4 bars of reception, but I had 3G internet to boot.

Springing into action, I got on facebook.

Status: Van broken down on I74 on way to the airport. Suggestions?

Next, I called our insurance provider. We have roadside assistance for this EXACT reason. All our cars are crap and have to be towed at least 2 times a year. Tow truck was on it's way. She asked me where I would like to have it towed, but the airport was not an acceptable response. Fine, to Wilson's Garage in Crawfordsville. I'd never heard of them, but whatever.

Rechecked facebook. "Call AAA. Call your Insurance. You poor thing."

Called Matt. Not a great conversation, but vehicles never break down when it's convenient. He was stressed out, and worried about my safety. And me getting to Fitbloggin. (He's the best!) He offered to take the rest of the day off to drive me, but truth be told, our white van is in worse shape than Big Blue. (Well, not at that particular moment, but you know what I mean...) I told him I'd try to figure out something.

Recheck facebook. There's a message from Sonnia.

"Call me if you need me to give you a ride to the airport-SERIOUSLY!!"

I really didn't have many other options at this point. And while it killed me to have Sonnia take me, I was desperate enough to get there. I mean, Dietgirl was going to be there! And we were going to meet!

So I called her.

And she said she was going to leave her house in 5 minutes to rescue me.

Meanwhile, the tow truck showed up, got me loaded, and we headed back to the garage. Knowing Sonnia was on her way to fetch me, I asked if he could PRETTY PLEASE drop me off at whatever was closest to the interstate exit so that it would be an easy place for Sonnia to find. He agreed, and I was dropped off at a truck stop.

While at the truck stop, I called Delta Airlines and told them what had happened. They were AWESOME. (And after later installments of this story, you will learn why I will fly Delta for the rest of my life...) They told me to go to the ticket counter as soon as I finally got to the airport, and they would have me on the next flight out of there.

Then, 30 minutes after I called, Sonnia rolled up her glam white sunglasses and big honkin' SUV. My girl knight coming to save the damsel in da' stress. Emphasis on STRESS. She loaded me up, and before I knew it we were on our way to the airport.

"I saw all these people offering you suggestions like triple A, and I thought "Why isn't anybody HELPING her? Wait, all I have to do today is go to the grocery store! I CAN HELP HER!!!"

And I thanked her lots, and we chitchatted the rest of the way to the airport. Before I knew it, we were at the correct exit, and she turned to go into the parking garage. Honestly, I kinda figured she would just drop me off and bolt. But, nay, I got the full service girl knight. She was determined to see me into the airport and make sure I got a flight out of there. As frustrated and stressed as I was, I was so grateful she came in. It was really nice to know I had a friend by my side, making sure I was ok.

I got new plane tickets, and then we girls had a Starbucks and sat down for a bit. If you ever get stranded, I sincerely hope someone like Sonnia comes to rescue you. She took my nutso situation and made it kinda fun!

We said our goodbyes and I hugged her tightly. That was an amazing gesture of friendship, and I cannot thank her enough for all she did for me last Thursday. As I got on the plane and we took off, I watched the sky and marveled about how wonderful my life, even with the craziness, really is.

Big Blue will be waiting at the mechanic's for a while. $1000 to fix the dumb thing. Remember how many payments we have made on her? ONE. Frustrating? Yes. But can we get around it and save up the cash to get her out of garage hock eventually? You betcha.

Cause we have a wonderful life. Even when it's stranded halfway to the airport.

Come back tomorrow night to read the second leg of Fitbloggin: Charlie the Goober.

Twas the night before Fitbloggin...

2011-05-18T10:47:00.000-05:00

So tomorrow.

I’m flying on a plane. Staying in a hotel room with people I’ve never met. Taking shuttles and doing the airport parking thing. Going to a conference. Participating in Fitbloggin 11.

Without anybody there to hold my hand.

WOWOWOWOWOW.

How far I’ve come!

When I attended SheSpeaks a few years back, I almost had a panic attack every hour on the hour just thinking about it. I stressed over what to wear, where to go, and even how to act (cause I get nervous being myself in new groups of people).

But this time?

It feels totally different.

I wasn’t invited to come because of who I might be or who I would become. I was invited to come because of who I am RIGHT NOW. This blonde haired, shrinking, stressed out, hot mess of a girl. THAT’S THE CHARLIE people want to meet. And that’s exactly who they will get. Because I don’t think I have the energy left to put on pretenses and be somebody else.

More importantly-

I DON’T WANT TO BE ANYBODY ELSE.

I kinda like me.

I like who I am.

I like that I laugh a lot and it makes me snort. I like that sometimes I forget words and my brain grasps at straws for a second, which makes me look like I’m really thoughtful instead of forgetful. I like that everything people say reminds me of a song, and there’s a pretty good chance I will bust out a verse. I like that I always slip and almost fall, at least once a day (if I don’t actually fall). I like that I sweat constantly because my metabolism is burning so hot.

And it’s not been easy to learn to like me. But somehow, through this silly little blog, I’ve learned how to do it. I’ve taught myself that being Charlie isn’t such a bad thing after all.

If you are going to meet me in person this weekend at Fitbloggin, there are a couple caveats you should be aware of. I’ll run you down the list.

1. I will most likely do something embarrassing to myself and potentially others around me. If you are in the danger zone, you can either run for cover, or stick around and enjoy the show. It’s all part of my “charm.”

2. I will say pretty much anything. Nothing that falls out of my mouth shocks me, but it might shock you.

3. I WILL LAUGH AT ANYTHING I SEE OR HEAR.

4. I will probably smell like a man for the weekend, because girl deodorants don’t work on me, so I’m snagging my hubby’s speed stick for men. This is for your protection. YOU’RE WELCOME!

5. I will hug you without batting an eye... BUT I have a personal space issue. Hug me tight, and when it’s over, make sure there is room for an entire person to fit between us, and stay in your dance space while I stay in mine.

6. I have some hearing loss, so I read lips to help me know what you are saying. This is especially important in large groups of people. If I can’t see your mouth, I will probably ask you to play repeater until I figure out what in the Sam Hill you are saying. If you call my name from across the room, there’s a good chance I won’t hear it. I’m not ignoring you. Feel free to come up and tap me on the shoulder to get my attention.

7. Speaking of attention… I get distracted easily. I am famous for starting sentences and NEVER FINISHING THEM. Again, this is all part of my charm, so enjoy it. (Look, a squirrel!)

8. I will go through various stages of dressed like a bum to dressed to the nines. I have many different looks. From shabby homeless to runway ready. And if I have a booger hanging or something in my teeth, you can tell me. I’d rather know than walk around all day looking like a dork.

9. If I get a text from my husband or kids, all attention will shift to that momentarily. They are my first priority, even if I’m gone. Nothing personal, but I’m not married to you and didn’t give birth to you either. If I did, then I must have been on some SERIOUS medications, cause I don’t remember it.

10. I LOVE making new friends! But there are lots of you to meet, and I’m HORRIFIC with remembering names. Please have your nametag on! Also, I don’t want to miss meeting anybody, so I plan to circulate as much as I can. But you are welcome to join in and work the room with me!

OK, I think that’s about it for now! I need to go pack, and get ready for the big day.

By this time tomorrow, I’ll be Baltimore bound!

FITBLOGGIN,

HERE I COME!!!!

Mayday! Mayday!

2011-05-14T09:53:00.000-05:00

The month of May appears to be "Let's see how close we can push Charlie to the edge" month!

On Wednesday, we were extended the offer to move into my brother and Tricky Nikki's old house until we get all the credit score issues taken care of and can move into our forever house. And we said yes.

SO WE ARE MOVING. TODAY AND TOMORROW.

The bonuses of moving there are pretty extensive:
Jetted Jaccuzi Tub
4 Bedrooms
2 Toilets (hallelujah!)
No leaky roof
No basement that backs up with sewer water every time we turn around
Knowing that I can relax at night because there's a security system installed in the house.
CENTRAL AIR!!!!

It's really a great move for our family, and we are excited. But it's going to take a ton of work to get us over there. So I need to get off here and get back to packing.

And 2 other weightloss related things:
I hit 155. And that brings me to 83 pounds lost.
I am currently wearing a pair of size 6 jeans. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus, for LYCRA.

Please, keep us in your prayers and good thoughts over the next few days, and if you can come help us move, we won't turn down the help. Tomorrow is the actual moving day, starting about 1pm after church, and today I'm just kicking around packing. Just send me an email with your name and phone number at oscbb@yahoo.com and I'll tell you where to come hang out and help. :)

Back to work. And I'm off...

Foiled Again...

2011-05-11T00:41:00.001-05:00

Today I am taking a break from my regularly scheduled humor and inspiration.

This post has nothing whatsoever to do with dieting. If you are here for the first time checking me out, I promise not all my posts are so serious as this one is. And I can prove it.

You can look here…

http://oscbb.blogspot.com/2009/06/charlies-sweaty-balls-and-ymca.html

…or here…

http://oscbb.blogspot.com/2010/10/says-means-and-hears.html

Or if it’s weight loss inspiration you’re after, pop over here…

http://oscbb.blogspot.com/2011/01/plus-side-of-looking-like-crap-in.html

I think maybe today’s message might be inspirational, but as I’m still writing it, I can make no guarantees. It’s a crap shoot at this point.

But today, I have to take care of some emotional housecleaning. Because today was a big day in our house. I’m going to break this down as well as I can without getting sued for “slander.” (Even though the truth isn’t slander.) For the purpose of this blog, I shall refer to myself as Y.

X has been dishonest about a certain peanut payment X owes Y, and has been for more than 3 years. More like 6.

Y gets a call from Z offering to help collect said payment.

Y realizes that the amount owed to her by X should be between 30-50 thousand packing peanuts.

Y shows up to court today.

Y tells the truth.

Z is wonderful through it all, and very supportive.

X does everything in X’s power to make Y look bad.

X walks out of court only owing 6 thousand packing peanuts.

Y also gets lectured in court, and pinned for a greedy woman.

Y is DUMBFOUNDED.

And for the record, Y is really tired of being the nice guy.

Helen Keller said “I long to accomplish a great and noble task; but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble.”

How I WISH that the whole of my day had gone better. I wish that for once, someone is being held accountable for actions besides me. I wish that I could get to be the fun, rich parent once in a while. It would have been nice if we had achieved something great today.

But that’s not my lot in life, it seems. Instead, I get to grin and smile through the small tasks- the homework, the laundry, the bedtimes, the constant bickering, the hurt knees and hurt hearts. I get the opportunity to show my kids love through SERVICE, through COMPASSION, through STRENGTH OF CHARACTER, and through GRACE UNDER FIRE. And frankly, that’s better for them than a bank account chock full of money anyway.

As much as we could have used the extra help, as nice as it would have been to have the chance to take a vacation to somewhere swanky and fun, I get to have daily teaching moments with my babies. When we show them that fun isn’t only found on a roller coaster or an airplane or at a resort somewhere. Fun can be about curling hair in the bathroom, and going googley over a picture they have drawn, and playing “zombie touch football” in the yard.

I know that we are doing more good by teaching them to clip coupons and hold on to their money, and to wait patiently for things they want. I don’t want them to be the kinds of adults who grow up expecting things to magically fall into their laps. And if this is the way God allows me to teach that lesson, I’m going to take it with gratitude. And with THANKFULNESS. God has provided us with an ABUNDANCE of blessings- a safe and happy home, full of love and joy, with an extended family and circle of friends that is amazing beyond belief. Who needs the extra money? Our family has already hit the jackpot!

Maybe you have someone like X in your life. Somebody who is always trying to put the screws to you, to make you look bad or constantly tearing you down. That person only has control over you if you let them. It has taken me a long time to come to this place in my life- but the actions of others, while annoying and irritating, can either make you lose your mind or make you better. I’m choosing to be effected positively through this experience. So I’m on the hunt for the silver lining. Unfortunately, in this particular case, I had to provide my own aluminum foil.

And that’s the secret to life. If you can’t find the positive things, you create your own.

Here are mine for the day:

1. No amount of money could ever compare to what my children are worth. I would lay down my life for them without batting an eye.

2. My husband, who technically has no biological claim to these kids, feels EXACTLY THE SAME WAY. Double Blessing.

3. This issue from court today that was “taken care of" in no way, shape, or form effects us as parents. It changes NOTHING. Our love was never contingent on the outcome. Likewise, our love for the kids is not contingent on the future choices the kids will make. NOTHING could ever make us stop loving them- past, present, or future.

4. I found coupons for foil. Handy. (As I imagine I might need to stock up.)

5. Every single time someone like X causes drama in my life, it only reassures me that by choosing Matt to be my husband, partner, and best friend- I made the best decision of my life. Tonight I apologized to Matt that I came into our relationship with so much baggage. (And FYI, I do NOT mean the kids.) He looked into my eyes and he said, “You. Are. WORTH. IT.” He is filled with more integrity in his hairy little toe than someone else possesses in his entire body. And that’s saying a lot.

6. I walked into that courtroom today knowing that I have lost 82 pounds. And even dealing with the last month of buildup for the court date, finding out we weren’t pregnant, losing a dear friend, having a roof that the landlord never seems to fix, and getting stalled out on purchasing a house: Through it all, I didn’t emotionally eat. I’m kinda proud of me for that!

7. God knows every single tear I have cried over those children, desperately trying to be the best mom I can. He thinks I can handle more. Ergo, God has more confidence in me that I imagined. I am honored. (I also think He’s highly overestimating my abilities. Just sayin….)

8. And finally- Yes, Judge- I AM GREEDY. I am greedy for my kids to grow up to be the best people this community has ever seen. I want to watch them change lives of others around them, be it through politics, art, music, or even digging ditches. Whatever they choose to do with their lives, I want them to encourage others. To be honest and forthright. To be people that do the right thing, even when it stings like a mother effer. (Cause, trust me folks, this HURTS.) And the only way the kids will learn those character traits is IF THEY SEE THEM LIVED OUT. Guess who has 2 thumbs and gets to do that? THIS GAL!!!!

So blessings abound, even in this seemingly unfair place I’m at in life. Yes, it sucks, but it could be worse. I'm counting my blessings.

When life foils you-

Don’t ever be afraid to FOIL it right back.

Charlie VS Glamour

2011-05-07T18:54:00.000-05:00

Last night was one of those nights I will never forget.

Matt (the hubs) was joking with me about the differences between men and women. Men are visual, and women are emotional. He had already lavished emotional praises over me throughout the day. So I decided it was my job as a good little wifey to drive the man to utter distraction with some visual. Oh, and for me to do that while he was on stage during his opening night performance of “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.”

Cause I’m ornery like that. Plus, it’s wise to keep the home fires burning hot.

And so began the arduous process of my hair and makeup routine. Vintage hair… rolled and pinned and sprayed to infinity. Makeup…false eyelashes and winged liner and lip stains. Powder and highlight base and shimmer shadows. Ben Nye FINAL SEAL (best product EVER, by the way) to set it all in permanent place.

Once that was done (and we won’t discuss how long I obsessed over it last night. Not from vanity, but because I know what get’s my husband’s motor revving. Besides me being in the same room and other having things to do, of course…) I started the next process of dressing.

See, I’m still dealing with the Orb of Mystery. It’s better, but I’m still kinda poochy. Every time I start getting stressed out, it pops back out a bit. So my pretend pregnancy is stress related. I am doing everything I can to stay calm at all times, lest my tummy jumps back from a 3 month bulge to a 6 month globe of disaster. Which really fowls up my wardrobe choices.

Nevertheless, last night was a reason to pull out the big guns. And by big guns I mean big girdles. I don’t do Spanx or other kinds. I do hardcore vintage 25 hook girdles. And I use more than one at a time.

The secret to smooth girdle wearing is to layer them so you get the biggest bang for your minimizing buck. I begin with underwear and a firmly secured poise pad. This is because when wearing multiple girdles, you can’t always whip yourself free and make it to the potty in time. (Lesson I’ve learned MANY TIMES OVER.) Next, I put on the smallest of the girdles. Then the next one, which covers a little more of my back rolls. (Not as bad as they used to be, but are a consequence of wearing binding garments.) Lastly, I put on the smooth line girdle, with no hooks, to help camouflage the bajillions of hooks and eyes.

Finally the dress. My new Cherry dress I found on ebay. ADORABLE. And perfect to drive the hubs crazy. I put it on, it zipped up and looked FANTASTIC. Threw on my favorite red shoes, and headed outside where I had Amy, our oldest daughter, take a pic. Here’s the end result of all my hard work.

I know. I clean up pretty good.

After taking the pics, I grabbed my jean jacket and we jumped into the van. My neighbor (and high school friend) Beth was outside. I decided I needed a second opinion before walking out in public in a teeny tiny dress. (It’s teeny for me, as I usually don’t wear sleeveless.) Since they live just a few houses down and I was wearing mega heels, I drove down to her driveway, hopped out and asked “OK, am I too old to be wearing a dress like this? Do I look totally slutty?” For the record, I asked this because I try to keep my wardrobe balanced between kindergarten teacher and prostitute. It’s a tough balancing act on nights like this one.

Beth assured me I didn’t look like I was going to be propositioned, and I felt much better.

That was when I heard the words that changed my entire night.

From the van, ALL 3 OF MY KIDS YELLED OUT:

“MOM, YOUR DRESS IS UNZIPPED!”

I felt my backside, and sure enough, the dress was unzipped. I giggled and asked if Beth could zip me back up. Her husband, of course was sitting on the front porch, laughing. He’s met me. He understands.

As I turned around and Beth went to zip me back up, she made the sound.

"UH-OH. Charlie, your zipper is BROKEN.”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT? Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!”

I had NO back up dress planned. I had 15 minutes to get my kids dinner at a drive thru, drop them off at Tricky Nikki’s house, and get all the way across town. No time to change.

And that’s when Beth asked me the question I’ve been asking myself for YEARS.

“Why does this kinda stuff always happen to you?”

I have no idea. Maybe it’s cause I can handle it like a pro. Maybe it’s cause my magnetic personality is actually only attracting bad luck. Whatever the reason, I was stuck with a broken dress.

I did some mental math, and realized that the jean jacket I had brought “just in case I got cold” was now going to be a full time member of my ensemble. But I wasn’t about to let that ruin my night. I still looked cute from the front.

I jumped back in the car, got dinner for the kids, and dropped them off. I headed to the theatre, and as I got out of the car, I put on my jacket. Which USED to fit me fine. Now, it hangs on me like a potato sack. Not the cute I was expecting. But I was willing to work with it. Necessity was my wardrobe tonight. And at least I didn’t have to button it. The dress could still be seen if I opened the jacket up a bit.

Glamour is a state of mind, and isn’t found in the actual details. Thank goodness for that.

So the rest of the night went great. Matt blew me away on stage. I have never seen him sing or act the way he did last night. Folks, the man just makes me SWOON! (Even if he had to kiss another girl on stage. That didn’t bother me at all. I just wanted it to be me up there because I would have kissed him RIGHT! Hahahaha!) He had the entire crowd ROLLING with laughter. It’s a gift, I say, a gift.

After the show, I was standing around talking to people, assuring them that “sweet quiet mild mannered Matt” really is a comedic genius at home, and that’s pretty much what we are like 24-7 around here. Then he came up and squeezed me, called me a megahottie, and smootched me. He needed to change out of his costume, so I hung around for a while, waiting for him. And I was chatting with Sonnia in the lobby, who makes me laugh all the time. I needed to text Nikki, to let her know I was almost on my way to get the kids. As I unzipped the back pocket on my purse, the darndest thing happened.

The zipper head flew off my purse and onto the floor.

Sonnia looked at the floor, then looked at me laughing, cause she knew my backside was totally exposed under my jacket, and she said, “Two in one night?”

Yeah, I take glamour and coolness to a whole new level.

I rip it wide open, it seems.

How to Prepare for Fitbloggin: The Practical Guide for Neurotic Bloggers

2011-05-06T09:19:00.000-05:00

Conferences scare me. And if you have signed up to attend a big conference, there have probably been moments when you’ve said the same thing as me.

WHY DID I SIGN UP FOR THIS???

It is NOT that we want to miss the information that will be brought to us. It’s not that we don’t want to meet some of our favorite bloggers face to face. It’s not that some of us (especially the stay at homes) aren’t DESPERATE to get out of the house for a weekend without the kids. And it’s certainly not that we don’t want to go.

It’s the emotional red tape our minds put us through leading up to the conference that gets us.

A few years ago, I went to SheSpeaks, a conference to bolster Christian women who want to speak and write. And thankfully, I experienced every one of the things I will be addressing today while preparing for that conference. So you get the added bonus of learning from all my mistakes.

Perhaps you aren’t attending Fitbloggin. Don’t think this post isn’t for you. These principles can be applied to ANY new and scary situation. Especially if you are neurotic like me. M’kay? Here we go.

A practical preparation guide for neurotic bloggers.

1. The people at the conference are going to be awesome. That includes YOU. No one misses falling under the awesome umbrella. Often times we feel intimidated by the idea of seeing folks face to face. (Me meeting DIETGIRL? YIKES) Well guess what? Bloggers are people just like you. In fact, I think bloggers have a special bond unlike other people. We read about each other’s lives on a regular basis. We are this huge network of socially awkward people. (Otherwise, why would we blog?) Yes, we feel safest from behind the dim light of our laptop screens, where we have time to think about our words and responses. But this is the one time we become a united people group in one place. Like minded individuals who can talk about our experiences with folks who really understand. Focus on that. This is your chance to make new contacts and friendships that will last forever. Embrace the awesomeness that is in you.

2. DON’T HIDE!!!! When I went to my last conference, I was so intimidated by the sheer volume of people (I shouldn’t say that heading into a conference about dieting, I guess) that I panicked. I freaked. Too many faces for this Chicken Little to process. So I committed the cardinal sin of conferencing: I HID IN MY ROOM. And actually, I didn’t come out until the Trac(e)ys (2 gals named Tracy and Tracey, respectively) latched onto me and helped me feel more comfortable. They saved seats for me. The talked to me during breaks. They went outside with me when we needed a break. Why I am telling you this? Instead of hoping I’ll get another set of Trac(e)ys, this time I’m going to BE a Trac(e)y to someone. Reach out and embrace them. Include them in what I’m doing. Those girls saved my conference experience, and I want to pay it forward. I suggest you do the same.

3. When you are walking down the hallways and sitting in classes and eating meals and in general participating in conferency activities, SMILE. I don’t care if you have to slap Vaseline on your teeth to get there. (Just watch out, because Vaseline has 100 fat calories per tablespoon. So don’t swallow it. Plus you’ll get the trots. Don’t ask how I know this…) Tell yourself “I am the prettiest/handsomest person in the room, and people want to meet me.” I used to tell myself that before I lost the weight and felt like hiding. All of a sudden, I carried myself with confidence I didn’t have before. And ya know what? It WORKS. People are drawn to confidence. Even if you are a confirmed wall flower, this can work for you. Make yourself as approachable as you can. Then watch the magic happen!

4. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND PURE IN THIS WORLD: LAY OFF THE PERFUMES AND BODY SPRAYS. This is a matter of personal preference. But when folks are crammed into a room that’s 20X20, and you have put on enough perfume to take down a small elephant, I’m going to give you dirty looks. I know you like the way your perfume smells. But I might not. Plus, there are folks with allergies, and if you send someone into a sneezing fit, everyone is going to know who caused it. If you MUST wear scents, try to keep away from the flowery heavy stuff, and look for some light fruit scented sprays.

Or, get this.

No one will complain if you smell like bacon.

5. Don’t stay up all night talking to your roomies. Tempting as it may be, you will regret it on the last day of the conference. So will everyone around you, Mr/Mrs/Ms Grumpypants…

6. When meeting new folks, give them your blog business card. Not only will it help them remember your name, but when they go home, they can look you up and follow your blog. And we all know how exciting it is to get new followers on your blog! (Are you following ME yet? Go ahead and make my day. Become a follower.) It also helps to take lots of pictures. I’m planning on bringing my video camera for some special moments too. So don’t pick your nose in a corner or I might be sending it to America’s funniest home videos!

And finally…

7. We are ALL at different points in our fitness journeys. Some have just begun, others have achieved the halfway mark, and others still are at goal and in the maintenance phase. NO MATTER WHERE YOU ARE IN YOUR JOURNEY, what you have to say is important. Your perspective counts. And even if you aren’t in a certain place yet, or are further ahead than someone else, don’t disqualify another person’s feelings about where they are. I feel MUCH differently about my weight loss journey now than I did 3 years ago in the beginning. But that doesn’t mean the feelings I had in the beginning weren’t valid. It just means I’ve managed to work through that feeling set and moved on to the next group. There aren’t any magic answers to this fitness goal. The journey is different for everyone. No matter where you are, I’ve already decided I can learn from you. And I hope you can learn from me.

Any questions?

The Point of Impact

2011-05-04T10:30:00.000-05:00

I remember the first time I saw her.

It was back in high school at a “Christ In Youth” conference in Missouri. They were having auditions for high school students to sing specials during the worship services, and my youth group encouraged me to try out. I agreed to it only because Sara was going to do sign language to the song with me.

I walked into the room and there she was. Jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, and as much makeup on as me. I liked her INSTANTLY.

Then I started hearing the whisperings in the room.

“She’s already got a song on the radio.” “She’s a REAL singer who wrote her first song and got it recorded.”

That song was called “A Baby’s Cry.”

And that girl was Amanda Pate (now Fessant).

As you guys well know, I’m not opposed to walking up to ANYONE, regardless of their level of fame, and talking to them. Amanda was no exception. And I’m forever thankful I did.

She and I became fast friends, especially after we heard each other sing. There was an instant respect between us regarding talent. We spent the majority of the conference hanging out together, talking about things like music, our body images, and our dreams for the future. The real bonus was we lived less than an hour away from each other.

That friendship continued for several years. She would come to Danville for a concert or a game, and we would meet at the Monicals Pizza. I’d go over to her house in Paris for the weekend, and we’d spend time raiding her mom’s ivy decorated kitchen, singing and talking about Jesus and boys. And she was the FIRST person to introduce me to tiramisu.

The fact that Manda-May was singing professionally never got in the way of our friendship. I was always so proud of what she was doing, and the ministry she had started. Perhaps at times there were twinges of jealousy, but it was never because I wanted HER life. I just wished I was as sure of what God wanted from me as she was. Me and God had this prodigal daughter routine going. Mandy was as steady as the rock of Gibraltar.

After we graduated from high school, our feisty little friendship continued. We spent weekends together, running all over Illinois and Indiana. I wrote my first real song at her house. On her bedroom floor. And to date, it’s still my favorite song I’ve written. “Alabaster Jars” And I’ve never performed it. But one day I will.

Mandy had a friend in the band “All Star United” (and it was no secret that there was major crushage going on there, on one side for sure, and perhaps on the other) and she had been mailed a demo copy of their not yet released album, with 4 songs on it. We listened to the song “Drive” over and over again the whole night, dissecting the lyrics and trying to decide if it was written for her or not. That was one of my FAVORITE nights with her. (And I’m listening to that song as I’m writing this.)

Then Mandy decided she was going to move to Nashville, TN to really pursue her music career. It was hard to be so far from her, but one weekend, she called and asked if I wanted to spend the week with her in Nashville. She had to work, but she knew I had written a few country songs and wanted to give a shot at getting them sold. I had ONE music contact, so I made an appointment on Friday, and on Sunday afternoon, Manda-May and I began the roadtrip to Nashville.

I SWEAR ON ALL THAT IS HOLY- Mandy had a lead foot that terrified me. We were in her dinky little car, and she was going AT LEAST 100 mph. Every hour I had to make her stop so I could pee and smoke, just to calm down from the fear of almost meeting Jesus on the interstate from her driving. If Mandy hadn’t been so good natured about the whole thing, I would have felt bad. Cause I kept yelling for her to slow down or she’d kill us both. She just laughed and said “God’s got things for us to do. We aren’t going anywhere.” Like that helped me unclutch my white cramped knuckles from the O.S. bar on her car’s interior roof…

Up until that trip, I thought I knew how my life was going to go down. I’d become a Nashville fixture as a country songwriter, and we would continue our friendship as we always had. I’d make a bundle from royalties (back in the day when people actually bought cassette tapes and CDs) and I’d work to become a Christian vocalist.

But that didn’t happen. The one contact I had didn’t like my songs, because they weren’t recorded. She encouraged me to make a demo tape (but a really good one, which means expensive in music speak) and come back. But I never did. That one rejection was enough to make me lose my nerve.

That was the first time Mandy and I ever fought. I was broken hearted, but she was used to the rejection. “That’s the music business. You have got to be thick skinned!”

Except I didn’t know how to do that. So I started to pull away from Amanda, because her success reminded me of my own failure. And I couldn’t bear it.

Mandy was always ministry minded. God driven. She wanted to change the world. Love people.

I however, was “me-nistry” minded. Idol driven. I wanted to change my world. Make people love ME.

When you get into a position where you share your life with others, be it in relationships, on a stage, from a pulpit, or even on a blog- you learn quickly that people are messy. They are opinionated. They feel justified in saying things about you that break your heart. And I wasn’t ready for that when I was 19. I wanted to run around, party, and be irresponsible. She had met her darling husband BJ, and was getting ready to be married. She asked me to be a part of her wedding. I knew Mandy didn’t approve of my chosen lifestyle. Nor should she have. I was being stupid, making dangerous choices, and would soon pay the price for my indulgent ignorance. I didn’t go to her wedding, because I was afraid she would see right through me, and call me out on my behavior. I wasn’t ready to give it up.

After I met the first husband, I was pregnant 6 weeks later. Long before we were ever husband and wife. I found out a few months later Mandy was pregnant too. When I brought Amy home from Phoenix for her first Illinois visit, I met up with Mandy, her mom, and her new baby son. They talked about how HIS Ministry was growing. How God was changing things. Me? I was a mom now, but now struggled even more with who I was.

After all the kids were born, we reconnected a few more times, but our friendship was never the same. I was always running from ministry. Mandy hoped I would get there one day, yet I don’t think she was holding her breath. Our friendship suffered because of ME. My utter denial that I could ever be a leader in this messed up world.

I mourn that we never really got to make things right before she died. But I know she sees me now, and I hope she understands. I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. Until now. And it’s not too late.

After years of running, I find myself smack dab in the middle of a ministry I had no idea I would be in.

THIS.

THIS BLOG.

YOU.

YOUR LIVES.

ME.

MY LIFE.

I know that every word I speak on here isn’t about God. Sometimes it’s about periods and boobs. Sometimes it’s about my frustration with Dominos. Other times it’s about my friends who support me. Or my feelings. My hurts. My burdens.

But in everything I do, I want you to know one thing.

In all that I have done wrong in this world, I have been forgiven. My blessings supersede my previous behavior. I hope that I bring you a not-pushy message about what a woman with a little drop of faith can accomplish. I refuse to become one of those people who slap scriptures on every item in my house. Sometimes, life doesn’t necessarily have a spiritual point. If it doesn’t, I don’t make one up. It’s just a story, an experience. But when there is a point, I feel compelled to share it. And I pray that my humble words bring you peace and inspire you to keep seeking good things in your life.

My “ministry” will never look like Mandy’s. The reach God allowed her to have is amazing. She was well loved all over the world. When she found out about her cancer, more people were praying for her than live in both our hometowns put together. Her heart’s cry was “If all the people who said they were praying for me would talk to Jesus and get a real relationship with him, I would go through this all over again.” I bet she had an amazing homecoming when she passed into the next part of her life. Her life was a beautiful testament to God’s love.

As for me?

What is my ministry?

I have learned that I don’t want to be famous around the world. I want to hug people and walk through fires next to them. I want to show you that we can live normal lives and have hope. Have joy. We can laugh. We can fight alongside one another, even if the common enemy is the scale. I want to embrace joy whenever I can, and share that joy with you. Even if it’s about peeing my pants.

I want to encourage you that no matter what your faith is, you should never give up hope of conquering your struggles. My opinion of you doesn’t change if you are a Christian or not. If you are fat or not. If you are living a questionable life. I don’t care about your “whats.” I care about the “WHO.”

YOU ARE A PERSON WORTHY OF LOVE.

OF ACCEPTANCE.

YOU DESERVE GRACE.

TO BE HUGGED.

TO BE LOVED UNCONDITIONALLY, just as I once was.

That is my ministry, the point of impact I hope to have in the world.

I pray I will do you justice.

And now, it’s time get ready to say goodbye to my friend.

Manda-May,

I love you. I always have. And I can’t wait to see you in heaven. Thank goodness we don’t have to drive to get there. I'm dustin' off my boots as we speak.

Love,

Charlie

Cookies

2011-05-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

Tonight my precious daughter hugged me tightly.

She was watching her Mama cry tears of sorrow, because I lost my friend Amanda, who went home to be with Jesus today. And even though she didn’t remember meeting Mandy, Natalie used her empathy skills to console me. She then started helping around the house, without being asked to.

After I had composed myself (a little, anyway) I thanked her for being such a sweetheart.

She nodded and said, “I did such a good job I think I earned some homemade cookies!”

We don’t have any in the house, but if we would have, I would have given her the whole lot.

I dropped Amy, our oldest, at the movies with some friends, thankful to have a few moments in the car alone. I went to the store, and grabbed a few items. Then I went to the refrigerated cookie aisle and picked up a package. Because I was determined to bring that little girl some cookies.

As I got in the car, my heart heavy with frustrations and sorrow, I cried. I prayed and asked God to comfort me. And the still small voice inside me asked one question.

“Is she WORTH cookies?”

Before the horrible parent police show up at my door, I want to assure you- this question is not what you think it is. But I think a letter to my daughter would best explain what I mean.

Dear Natalie-

I want more than anything to give you cookies. Sweet, just like you, and so delicious. There have been many times in my life I earned cookies too. Sometimes other people gave them to me, especially when I was a kid. As a grown up, living on my own, I got those cookies myself. Even though I shared them with you kids a lot, there were many packages of cookies you never knew existed.

Any time I felt extreme feelings, ranging from happiness to crushing sadness, I had cookies. And chips. And cakes. Those things made the feelings I was experiencing seem a little more tolerable. They moderated the extremes in my life.

And you saw the result. My body 3 years ago was proof that I had been “feeling” for a long long time.

Natalie, you are one of the most precious children I have ever met. And I know it’s tough for you being the middle kid. Amy gets to do everything first, and you often get her hand-me-downs. Tim gets to do other things because he is a boy. He gets clothes nobody else has worn, because he doesn’t do pink. So you kinda get the short end of the stick. And I know that.

And while you asking for cookies seems like such a small request, so insignificant, so easy to just let you have-

My sweet darling girl-

I’m going to say NO.

Because you are WORTH MORE THAN COOKIES.

You don’t deserve a life that bases your feelings or your worth on food. You deserve to be taught appropriate ways to self-soothe, a skill your Mama has been lacking a very long time. As much as I want to give you cookies today, I don’t want you to struggle with wanting cookies tomorrow.

This doesn’t mean you can’t ever have cookies again. That’s the joy of this- if you learn to enjoy them in the right way, they will taste even sweeter.

Love-

Mom

I wonder where my life would be today if I hadn’t abused food. Granted, this blog would never exist, but what else could I have achieved in my life if food hadn’t been an issue? Would I have pursued my songwriting career? Would I have moved to Hollywood? New York? Paris?

I will never find out what my life could have been, but my daughters (and son, of course) deserve to find out where their lives can go. I cannot pass on my broken habits to them. I want to give them every opportunity to learn to be the most complete and whole humans they can be while under our roof. They will move out and make their own mistakes, I realize that. They will have their own struggles, but I don’t want one of them to be food. Because that one comes straight from me.

Tonight, as I struggle with more than my children will ever realize is on my proverbial plate, telling God I can’t handle ONE MORE THING, and another thing falls on my head and heart- I am left with the question.

Do I finally realize that I, too, am worth more than cookies?

Am I ready to use my faith to self soothe instead of calling on the disciples Ben and Jerry? Am I willing to deal with the feelings instead of shoving them down with food?

I think that I am. I’m going to do my best.

Because I AM WORTH MORE THAN COOKIES.

Blogging about parenting...

2011-04-25T14:14:00.000-05:00

XOXO-

Charlie

Checking on the Listings

2011-04-21T14:47:00.000-05:00

So the belly swelling is better today. Still not great, but it's gone down from almost 42 inches on Sunday to 38.5 today. And mentally, I keep telling myself "You are not preggers, so just relax and enjoy this. It's like you get to see your waist shrink again in rapid time!" Not everyone gets that pleasure. And heaven knows it didn't go down this fast when I lost the weight before! Happiness and joy can be found anywhere. Sometimes you just have to look really hard to find it. Thankfully, I've got lots of time to do that.

Meanwhile, I'm stuck with trying to focus my mind on other things. Thinking about fun things I have to look forward too. Here are some of the items I stew on when my mind needs distraction.

1. The take down of Bank Of America in regards to our credit report. This issue with the pretend foreclosure is still a work in progress, but the good news is "If they can't prove it, they have to remove it." We are working hard to stay on top of this. As soon as it's gone, we are going to get our house. (So say a prayer everyone else who sees the house we want HATES it. Petty? Perhaps. Necessary? Absolutely.)

2. Fitbloggin. Is. One. Month. Away. YIKES! I still have to get my plane ticket next week, but I'm really looking forward to sharing the stage with my buddy Sue from Mrs. Fatass- Did I Just Eat That out Loud? and Jack from Jack Sh*t Gettin Fit. 2 of my favorite bloggers, and I not only get to meet them, I get to be a BRAIN TRUST about humor with them (oh the irony of that statement! Just kidding, kids. These 2 folks are crazy smart. I hope I measure up!) If that's not moving up the virtual ladder in blogger land, I don't know what is! I also get to meet a whole bunch of other great folks who I'm not going to name, because I will forget one and hurt their feelings. And I don't want to do that. Point is, it's gonna be a fun trip! (Plus, I'm meeting 2 Fit Chicks and a Mircophone! SQUEEEEEEEE!)

3. My husband thinks I'm hot. This covers a multitude of thoughts. Cause I'm like a teenage boy. 'Nuff said.

4. While my belly has been puffy, I've been able to pluck out every belly button hair with ease. I also tackled the transgender hair folicles that think I'm supposed to be growing a whisker or 2. I found a 2 inch long hair on my cheek that grew outta nowhere. Being an adult is fun, n'est pas?

5. My son told me last night that I smelled of tuna. But he told me it was the good kind of tuna. He has no idea what the "grown up" meaning of that statement is, but it floored me. I didn't know if I should laugh my head off or run to Walgreens for some Summer's Eve. Turns out, he had consumed tuna earlier in the day, so it had nothing to do with me. He just needed to brush his teeth. We both are aromatically right as rain now.

6. I went to Walgreens anyway last night because we needed charcoal. I purchased (and paid for) a long lighter for starting the grill, 2 toffee Symphony bars, and charcoal. I left Walgreens with only my charcoal. My brain is getting older than the rest of me. I still need to go get my stuff today!

7. I am addicted to Extreme Couponing on TLC. And my friend Theresa has agreed to help me get crazy with coupons. Our goal is to be featured on the show sometime in 2012 cause we have done so well. It could happen!

8. My husband thinks I'm hot. (Yep, every 6 thoughts come back to that!)

9. My daughters need to stop getting so pretty. Also, Matt and I need to start stocking up on ammo to threaten boys with. They are no longer "little" girls.

10. My personalized bobble head makes me laugh every time I see it. Best. Gift. EVER. See?

My husband is the best gift giver in the world.

So there you have it. Straight from Charlie's Brain to your eyes. I can't wait to see what the next week brings in the way of excitement!

What do you think about when you need distractions?

When you wanna play the Shame Game...

2011-04-19T15:25:00.001-05:00

So this week- it’s totally thrown me for a loop.

To be honest, I don’t know what to make of any of it. When I look back, there’s nothing I’d do differently. And the mystery of it all was why in the world did I get 2 positive pregnancy tests at home?

But I can’t dwell on that or I’ll go off the deep end.

Now I have a mysterious orb and there’s nothing in it. I’ve accepted that. My brain knows. And even though my heart wishes it was otherwise, I need to let my brain be in control so my body can accept the truth too.

I’ve been doing some online research about hysterical pregnancies. Here’s what I think happened: my body started experiencing symptoms it couldn’t explain. But the neural pathways I’ve got translated the unusual changes into something my brain had already experienced and could process- pregnancy. And I’m thinking that’s why my belly swelled. My body simply assumed I was preggers.

In order for me to bring my body back to a state of normal, I’ve got to convince my body it’s time to stop pretending like it’s carrying a bun in the oven. Otherwise, my tummy could stay swelled up like this for months. And let’s face it folks, bikini season is drawing near, and I actually stand a shot at participating in it this year.

Until the swelling goes down, I’ve got to figure out a way to hold my head up high. There is nothing I’ve done that I should be ashamed of.

And yet, old habits die hard.

Shame is a comfortable place for me to hang out. I’ve spent a good part of my life being ashamed of my body. I’ve also been ashamed of situations I’ve ended up in.

None of those situations was harder to deal with than when I had to walk into the Women’s Shelter in my home town. When you look at your babies (who were 3, 2, and 1) so innocent and carefree, and realize the only way they will stay that way is by admitting you need help and must admit what you’ve been enduring- it breaks you in two. As I had to talk to the counselor and describe the home life I’d had for the past 5 years- I was filled to the gills with shame. Because I knew I should have stopped it. But I couldn’t. Until that moment, sitting in that room on the second floor of the YWCA, letting the truth spill from my lips without making excuses to defend and protect the person who had been hurting me- I had never realized how much shame had built up in me.

When I started to diet, several years later, I found myself in the same type of place. Writing down what I ate in a food journal. To see the truth in black and white took courage I never knew I had. But that courage was coupled with a heaping dose of shame. I KNEW that 25 oreos wasn’t a serving. And I ate them anyway. What a shame that was.

When we experience situations like domestic violence, abuse, unhealthy relationships, and the like, we come face to face with shame. We are given the opportunity to deal with it, or continue wallowing in it until shame destroys us. I know there are other women like me, suffering shame in silence. And I’m here to tell you that no matter what you are going through- physical issues, relationship problems, mental illness, infertility, frustrations with body image (hey, even the Terminator/Governator is dealing with those!)- shame is never your best option. Instead, we need to deal with our issues head on. Be brave, and stand firm. We are human, and no one completely understands why some things happen. So we need to come to grips with the fact we aren’t perfect. And there is NO SHAME in that. None whatsoever.

For me, I found the best way of dealing with the inner demons of shame that a little levity goes a long way. Laughter can change your brain chemistry, and bring you back around to a healthy place. So the best thing for me to do is let a laughing brain and good attitude take the lead and put the hysterics of fun back into a hysterical pregnancy.

And FYI- hysterical pregnancies, while somewhat uncommon today, are still an issue for some women. (Especially those who are desperate to conceive again. Yeah, that sounds like me.) It also happens to cats and dogs, and happened to Mary Tudor- so at least even queens of England are susceptible. I consider myself to be the one woman who talks about the things no one else likes to talk about. This topic fits the bill. If you google a hysterical pregnancy, you get lots of medical journals talking about it, but not many firsthand accounts of how a woman is dealing with it. So I will proudly step up and share what I’ve been going through.

I FEEL VERY PREGNANT. I can feel things moving in my tummy, rolling around and thumping- which are probably muscle spasms my body is generating to keep the charade going. My pubic bone aches, and my back is in desperate need of a massage. Waves of nausea come and go, and I go from being not hungry at all to being ravenous. Food still doesn’t taste right to me, but things smell fine. And then of course, the belly- which I was hopefully stroking and rubbing and calling “Mama’s little miracles”- the swollen stomach with no explanation other than an off-kilter body chemistry. The quicker I bring my bring my body and brain into agreement about this subject, the better I will feel and look. My body has got to come to grips with what my brain knows is the truth.

So while I know I am not preggers, I do still LOOK like it. And I have already determined that’s going to be the hardest part of dealing with this whole mess. People asking questions like “How far along are you?” and the like. In usual Charlie fashion, I feel some new t-shirts might be in order to keep the questions (and belly rubbers) at bay. I compiled a list of some potential t-shirt ideas and I’m going to share them with you. A) Because laughter will not make this situation any worse off than it is but could help this move along quicker, and B) I’m a sucker for some smart alec quips slapped on a shirt.

Here’s what I’ve got so far.

My uterus called my belly’s bluff.

My tummy is just faking it for attention.

My belly missed being fat.

This is a REALLY BAD bee sting.

Never get a breast augmentation from a directionally challenged doctor.

I was profoundly affected by the movie ALIENS.

This tapeworm diet was a bad idea.

Recalculating….

This is what happens when you eat baking soda and wash it down with a vinegar chaser.

My mom always said if I stuck my tongue out my face would freeze like that. I guess this applies to sticking out your belly too…

All the bubble gum I swallowed as a kid is working its way out.

Never hold in your farts, ladies, cause look what happens…

If this is how bad my bloating is, imagine how nasty my PMS is gonna be. Start running now…

My tummy likes to play family without me.

Maybe now I’ll get my own Lifetime Television made for women Movie.

Space for rent. Inquire within.

Swallowing the worm has serious side effects.

I’m just an out of work maternity supermodel…

I thought I was getting the fun kind of hysterical pregnancy.

See? I feel better already! Laughter helps me put things into proper perspective. And it helps me stave off the nagging desire to be ashamed that my body got so mixed up.

The one major positive I can take away from this whole experience- my body is ready for more babies. It jumped into action faster than the rest of me could. And if nothing else, I’m thankful I’ve got a body that’s ready for whatever comes next.

And with this “almost” pregnancy, at least I didn’t have to deal with hemorrhoids… there's something to celebrate!

No Rain

2011-04-18T12:59:00.000-05:00

How did Noah feel when he was sitting inside the boat with his family and a zoo?

He knew he was supposed to be there- he had spent so many years making the boat, dealing with questions of people who thought he was losing his mind...

And there he was, sitting on the boat of enormous and unusual size. The door was closed, his family was inside with him.

Only one thing was missing.

RAIN.

How did Noah feel when there wasn't rain?
How does a person feel when the rain isn’t falling yet but they know it's supposed to?

That’s where I am at this moment.

I’m waiting for rain.

Last night, at my big brother and Tricky Nikki's insistance, I went to the emergency room to figure out the cause of the Orb of Mystery.

After blood draws, tests, xrays and a cat scan- here’s what we discovered.

I am a remarkably healthy person- but a person in the most singular of forms. No ducks, no babies. My white blood count is fine, I have no mysterious masses lurking anywhere in my chest or abdomen, no unusual sources of concern on my lady bits or ovaries, nor pockets of poo or gas that would cause my tummy to look like it does.

There was not a single thing wrong with me.

At this point, I honestly don’t have any particular feelings about it. After a very long night, I woke up this morning and just felt- tired. I’m not bawling with disappointment, I’m not angry. I am slightly concerned about the bill we are going to receive from the hospital, but other than that- not much is going on inside my head.

I’m just feeling emotionally exhausted.

My neck hurts from looking up to the heavens, watching for the rain to start falling. After Matt and I got home from the hospital last night- having received a diagnosis of “nothing”- we sat on the couch, where I swayed between tears of frustration and laughter. (laughing because we realized the only sure thing in our lives is we are a happy family together and that no poop had backed up in our basement for the last month. Yep, this was our high point.)

I wonder how many times a person can be brought to the point of “almost blessed beyond belief” and still be happy and joyful?

This month, we almost got a house loan. We almost got pregnant. I almost got a reality tv show. (Yeah, that’s been in the works, but it’s not panning out to be a good fit for us or the producer. And that’s totally fine.)

But when I look back over this last month, I see that if nothing else went right- our family stayed true to being the kind of people we strive to be:

Hopeful dreamers who believe anything can happen.

We showed remarkable faith. And now that things didn’t go down quite the way we thought they would, we aren’t throwing ourselves a pity party. This is how life is. How life works. We could be horrid hateful people and probably get anything we want. That’s usually how things happen to people who live lives of questionable character and deceit. But that’s not how we choose to live our lives. We are content to be the underdog- at least Matt and I can sleep peacefully at night- with our arms wrapped lovingly around each other.

I wish things were different. I wish I could have told you 2 babies were on their way and there was a miracle growing inside of me. Instead, I have to chalk this up to another lesson of trusting in God, even when everything seems to point one direction, but God tells you it’s not time for the skies to start raining.

But he saw that my heart was faithful, right down to the bitter end. My heart held onto hope without questioning.

Even when there was no rain, I was waiting expectantly in the boat, ready for the ride.

Thank you all for your prayers and comments of well wishes and concern. Part of me wishes I had been silent and let this state of “nothingness” pass without ever talking about it. But I don’t know why God put it on my heart to share- yet he did. And I obeyed. I suppose he understands so much more than I ever will. He sees the bigger picture. All I can see is the state of affairs in front of me.

So today, even as I struggle for understanding why this crazy ordeal of nothingness happened, as I look down and see my belly still huge and feeling strange things, I know without a doubt that I trusted in God that he can do anything he wants to in my life.

Even if it doesn’t make sense.

Even when there is no rain.

The Cry of my Heart- A letter to GOD

2011-04-13T15:15:00.000-05:00

Dear God-

Nothing is going right in my life, at least the way I want it too.

I am losing weight, my tummy is expanding, and yet there seems to be no reasonable explanation.

We are supposed to be getting a house loan, but a mysterious and inaccurate foreclosure has popped up on the credit report for no apparent reason, stalling us out from making an offer on the house of our dreams.

Everything seems to be looking like a total bust. (As is the usual state of affairs for us. GRIN)

BUT---

YOU,

GOD…

That’s when you do your best work.

You parted the Red Sea for a million Jewish slaves who were surrounded by their enemies and brought them to safety.

You asked the widow to give up the last of the food she had to feed Elijah, and only after she had nothing left, provided her with an endless supply of provision.

You came to heal Lazarus after he had been in the grave for 2 days, and woke him from the dead when hope had already been lost by his family.

You brought a baby to Sarah when she was long past the ability to bear a child.

You freed Paul and Silas only after they were in prison and chained up.

You healed the daughter of a leader of the Synagogue, who had already died, and brought her back to life.

And in all of these things, you never apologized for letting things look impossible.

Everyone was so amazed by what you did, no one cared how bad things seemed before you came.

Right now, my life looks impossible.

It FEELS impossible.

But I am taking comfort in your words, spoken in Mark 5:36.

“Don’t be afraid. Just believe.”

No matter what happens, I will never stop believing in what you can do. My faith is only strengthened when the world says “NO WAY.”

From the DAY my tubes were tied, as I sat in the recovery room, mourning the situation I couldn’t escape from or undo, I felt peace about one thing. You would heal me. You would fix the broken parts of me that I couldn’t stop from being damaged.

For almost 9 years, I have never doubted that. I have taken pregnancy test after pregnancy test, had my heart broken more times than I can count. I have trusted you blindly that you would rescue me from this impossible situation, with no outside help from surgery or invitro.

People have laughed.

They have felt pity on me for believing so completely.

They have been annoyed when I thought that this could be the moment you give me my miracle, and have had to watch me cry tears of disappointment when it didn't come to pass.

They have wondered if I was all there in the head.

And that's ok with me.

God, as humbly as I can, I am asking you to move in mighty ways. I offer up my heart, yet again, to be broken completely and dissapointed. If it is not a child that is making my body go haywire, then I praise you that you love me enough to say “No, not now.”

I cannot understand your ways, nor do I expect to. I have watched you work in so many situations, time and time again in my life, feeling completely confused by the direction that you were leading me. And everytime, I have become a better person, a better believer, and have drawn even closer to you. I know you hear the cries of this woman, shouting out the same prayer as Hannah, who begged for a child.

One character trait you have blessed me with is a stubborn faith. When things are darkest around me, I know that you WILL shine a light.

I know. This looks impossible. And on paper, it IS.

But when I give you the freedom to write the truth on my heart, I know that impossibility is your specialty. It's the best part of your job!

Last year, I wrote a song about this exact situation, feeling that let down of once again not being pregnant. And 2 nights ago, you reminded me of it. As I sat and listened to the song, I cried. Because nothing has changed. And even if I am not pregnant at this moment, I would ask that my faith grows even stronger through this trial. Just as I wrote in this song, I am asking that my stubborn faith delights you. That it makes you throw back your head and laugh because it is impossible, and yet I trust you enough to keep believing year after year, disappointment after disappointment. And nothing will stop me from praising you and loving you.

And if you have heard my prayer and decided it is time for some miracles, let’s just go ahead and make it double ducks. Just for funsies.

In all things, I give you GLORY-

Charlie

Charlie and the Orb of Mystery

2011-04-12T14:44:00.000-05:00

When it walks like a duck,

quacks like a duck,

and looks like a duck,

but your doctor tells you it’s not a duck,

you feel like a turkey.

Since late January, I’ve been feeling like crap. I’m exhausted. I haven’t been working out. I couldn’t run a full mile without stopping to pee in my poise pad. (and ran it in 11m 21s, which is slow for me) Food doesn’t taste right. It smells just fine, but it doesn’t taste like it’s supposed to in my mouth. And if I eat something even though it doesn’t taste right to me, it makes me feel sick. My brain is total moosh, and all I want to do is take naps. I’m behind on everything that has to do with brain power- blogging, working on my novel, remembering more than 50% of my list at the grocery store, even though the list is in my hand…

And then there’s this, which has popped up over the last month…

My waist measured 34.75 inches in January when I measured it last.

Today? 40.5 inches.

But my weight?

161.0 pounds. My lowest weight as an adult. EVER.

So I have spent the last 2 days at my doctor’s office, trying to figure out what it is. I will also tell you that I had 2 positive home pregnancy tests over the weekend, but the blood test at the doctor’s office was negative. So they don’t think I’m pregnant.

Today, I had blood work drawn (again. I’m running out of arms to stick) to test my thyroid and some additional hormones. I’m guessing they don’t find anything wrong with either test. I’m betting they both come up normal.

I’m telling you all of this for one reason.

YOU KNOW YOUR BODY BEST.

It is imperative that you listen to your body. No matter what how crazy it makes you sound- (ahem… “my tubes were tied in 2002, but I had 2 positive pregnancy tests and I think I’m pregnant,” to which people think “That girl is nuts.” But seriously, did you see the belly?), you need to be in charge of your own health care. If I find out tomorrow that the two things they tested for today are normal as I suspect they will be, I’m demanding an ultrasound.

Because they don’t KNOW my body like I do. I know what my limitations are. I know what my “normal” state is. This feeling of exhaustion, this ginormous belly, this aversion to all forms of food but bread and asparagus- those things are not normal for me.

I might be wrong about being pregnant. (perhaps it’s a tape worm of epic proportions?)

But something is going on with my body.

We just have to figure out what is happening.

And figure out if there just might be a duck in there…

Miracles for Elephants

2011-04-08T16:32:00.003-05:00

I’m a big believer in MIRACLES.

When seemingly impossible things happen to normal people.

I know, because I’m a walking miracle. If I look at my life, and chronicle everything that has ever happened to me, I can see that I have been the recipient of miracles more than once. More than 10 times. I’ve probably experienced more miracles than I’ll ever know this side of heaven.

So when it comes to me ASKING for miracles, I’m pretty bold about it. I ask God for crazy things- some that He gives me, and some I will never see. (for my own good, cause God has MET ME)

But when I decided to lose the weight, I knew it would take a miracle. Fat chicks like me never actually lose the weight, we just keep putting it on. That was the cycle I knew so personally. In desperation, I asked God again for one of my “Crazy Charlie Specials.” The impossible type of miracle.

Not every miracle happens in a miraculous way. Some miracles take a lot of tough decision making. A lot of sweat. Hard work. Some miracles have to be grown in the very core of our being.

I knew that I wouldn’t wake up one morning and be thinny. (Although you can bet your buttons I begged for that option.) Instead, I decided that the best way for me to tackle this one was to eat the elephant (aka: the diet) the only way I could- one bite at a time.

There are some interesting things that happen when you attempt to eat an elephant like me. Once you find your elephant, it would be a whole lot easier to walk away from it than attempt to eat it. It would be easy to say “I can’t handle an elephant of this size!” and give up. I know cause I spent the majority of my adult life thinking that I would never be ready to sit down with my elephant and dig in.

But once I finally saw the right elephant for me, something clicked. I knew this was MY elephant. It was the right time. And the elephant had my name written all over it. All the other elephants out there had been all wrong. They had someone else’s name written on it. But I had tried to eat them anyway. And I could never finish them. There are lots of half eaten elephants out there in the world that bear my dental records. Some of them only have a bite or two taken out.

But eating Charlie’s elephant has been a whole new experience. Even though not every bite has been pleasant, they have all been productive morsels. I’ve had to walk away for a week or two sometimes because I needed to get the taste of pachyderm out of my mouth, but I always came back to finish what I had started! It wasn’t the fact I was dieting that was the miracle. It was the fact that I kept coming back every day to work on my miracle. And it’s almost the slowest miracle I have experienced to date.

So what is it gonna take for you to find your elephant? Is it going to take a class reunion where you want to look your best? A doctor visit that ends with a handful of prescriptions because your body can’t tolerate the weight? Is it going to take falling into a deep depression about how you feel about yourself? (I don’t recommend that route, but it does work, although it’s pretty painful…)

And once you find your elephant, are you going to commit to working at it a little bit every day? With every single bite counting toward your goal? How long are you willing to work for your miracle? Are you willing to give it a week? A month? A year? Maybe even 3?

I’m on year 3 of eating the same dang elephant day after day after day. But I’m almost to the end. And the closer I get, the more I feel the miraculous-ness of what I’ve accomplished. I am now am thinner than I have ever been in my entire adult life. The last time I was close to this weight was exactly 11 ½ years ago. And it was only for a couple of days. But now, I’m maintaining this weight. Going down further. And my elephant doesn’t look anything like it used too. I’m almost down to the tail. And after 3 years of nothing but elephant, my tail looks pretty darn good.

Sometimes the miracle isn’t that you ate an elephant. The miracle is learning that YOU CAN eat one. Learning to believe in yourself. Finding an inner strength you never knew you had. Realizing that if you set your mind to it, eating an elephant isn’t so bad after all.

There ARE miracles for elephants, even for us.

We just have to chews to believe it.

A quick post during spring break...

2011-04-05T12:09:00.000-05:00

Once again, I have to apologize that I've not been faithful at blogging, like I usually am. The kids are on week 3 of their spring break, and lots of that time has been goofing off with them. Not that my blog is being ignored, it's just by the time the kids are in bed and I have time to write, my brain is utter moosh and I can't string sentences together. So, again- sorry about that. Next week we will be back on track.

Lots of very exciting things have been happening around here! First off, we finally got a new van! It's a nice pre-owned Chevy Venture mini-van, and the exciting part is it has sliding doors on BOTH sides of the vehicle! Matt can now hop off to work without me taking him, and me and the kids can just run around and go have fun.

Second of (And this is the SUPER exciting part!) WE ARE FINALLY able to get a house loan!!! This has been such a long time in the making- 3 years of living in the crappy rental and finally we can plan our escape! They say you are supposed to buy the crappiest house on the nicest block. And that's kinda what we are trying to do! We had looked at a house in early December, but we didn't act on it because of the financing snafu. However, we are going to go back and take a second hard look at it and make sure that it's really for us! If you want to take a sneek peek at it with me, you can! Click here, and you can see it too! I'm so happy to share this with you- it needs lots of work (it's kinda ugly to 11 inside) but we can deal with ugly.

And finally, I'm maintaining my 75 pound goal within 3 pounds on a daily basis. That's good for me. Sometimes, my body likes to hit a number and shoot back up. But the ultimate goal is to live a normal life and still stay on track. Which I am doing. I want to make sure that when I finally hit 100 pounds lost, I can keep it there, and moving slow and steady gives my body a chance to adjust to the new normal of being 163 pounds.

I'm a pretty happy girl!

So what's been going on with you? Have I missed any news in your world? (My blog reading is even more behinder than my blog writing!) Comment below and give me the link of your favorite posts you have written over the past 2 weeks! I'll come check them out and make sure to leave you a comment! (If you have comments enabled on your blog, that is!) Happy spring break!!!!

Tattooey-Gooey

2011-03-30T15:49:00.001-05:00

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been losing losing losing.

I think that trend is over for the moment, because I have fallen into hungry times. I just wasn’t interested in food before this week, but lately it’s been nothing but hunger pains in my tummy. So I’m eating.

But I’ve enjoyed the wonderful feelings of self acceptance that came with this last 15 pounds of weight loss. Knowing that I can keep losing is wonderful- but to be frank, it was going a little too fast for my liking.

As weird as it sounds, I prefer a slow loss. And it’s taken me 3 years to get to this point when I can say that with confidence.

So, if you are my friend on Facebook, you may have noticed that the kids are on Spring Break, and I am doing my best to keep them entertained during the day. Last Friday, Natalie (our 10 year old daughter) helped me on a silly project I’d been wanting to try for a while.

I gave myself a temporary tattoo “Quarter Sleeve.”

For those of you who don’t speak tattoo-ese, a quarter sleeve looks something like this-

Tattoos on your arm, from the shoulder down to above your elbow. We decided to give it a shot, and Natalie happily helped me arrange all the tattoos and apply them. (She is the QUEEN at temporary tattoo art. Every single one of them (and we did about a hundred) came out perfect!)

It’s something I’ve been wanting to wear for a while, because I think that if you decide to get a tattoo, you need to be 100% sure that you can live with it. So this was the cheapest way to try it out. (cost me 5 bucks)

On Friday night, after the kids left for their weekend away, Matt and I went to see Julia (sister-in-law and BFF of 20+ years) in a show at Red Mask, our community theatre. I wore a cardigan sweater with a sleeveless shirt underneath, so I could pull it off and show people to see what they thought.

Here’s what I discovered- I am definitely a tattoo girl. It works for me. And Matt loved it too. Which was all the confirmation I needed. It was fun running around being the girl I feel like I am inside. A little rock and roll and all that jazz.

And, I got to see McMucsles, who I haven’t seen for a while- since we are down to one car, my workout routine has been totally scrambled up. I got to chit chat with him for a while and remind him of my everlasting adoration of what he has done for me so far, and that I will be back in full force soon enough.

When we got home Friday night, Matt thoroughly enjoyed checking out the “new ink” on my arm, and kept telling me that I was a hottie.

Now, we fast forward to Saturday. Some of the temporary tattoos had rubbed off a little (especially on the underside of my bicep) and I knew that I wanted to really test the ink that night. I would be doing makeup for the cast of the show I had watched the night previously. It would be in their face, and I just wanted to see the reactions. It was especially cool because while I knew some of the people, there were lots of folks who didn’t know me. I wondered what their perceptions would be. I applied some fresh tattoos to the sleeve in the places where it was a little messed up, and lotioned the whole thing, so none would be peeling off.

And I fixed my hair vintage style (like I like it) and went about my makeup assignment for the night. While the show was going on, I hung out in the makeup room and took some quick pics.

And it was fun. I had a great time. I even got to see Margaret the Saint at the show and show her what Natalie and I had done!

When I got home that night my arm was itchy. I tried really hard not to scratch it, but it was SO ITCHY! And of course, the tattoos began to flake off. Matt and I went to bed that night, me scratching my arm like I had poison ivy, and I tried to get some sleep.

I woke up on Sunday morning, and my arm felt WEIRD. I tried to do my morning stretch- yawning with my arms above my head- except that my arm was STUCK to my side. CRAP. I had to work the skin loose from my side, which wasn’t very pleasant. Matt was meeting a co-star of his show before practice to run lines, so I didn’t have time to scrub the stuff off. I threw on a hooded sweatshirt over my top half, and took him to rehearsal. Then I went to the store, got crickets for our new bearded dragon, and picked up a few groceries. My arm was still itchy, but not unbearable.

When I got home, I knew I had to scrub it all off. The weird part was that if I rubbed the tattoo part with my fingers, the material used on the tats would gum up and roll into gooey little balls that stuck to my fingers.

So I sat in a hot bathtub and let the tattooed arm soak for a while. Then I began Operation Tattoo removal.

I started using one of those pouf things you use for body wash. Those HURT. It felt like I was using sandpaper on my arm. Then I tried using my fingernails, which was just as bad as the poufs. There were millions of teeny tiny goo-balls floating around in the tub, which was a good sign that the tattoo was coming off at last.

What I found worked the best was a regular old washcloth. It seemed to get the most goo off with the least amount of resistance and pain. My arm was finally scrubbed clean and while it was tender, it wasn’t much worse for the wear.

I got out of the bathtub, dried myself off, and threw on some clothes. I puttered around the house a bit, and was having a nice quiet day. Then I had to pee.

I went into the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and let it rip.

As I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and began to wipe.

That’s when the trouble started.

The toilet paper seemed to be sticking. REALLY BAD.

In fact, it was like trying to run a brush through a hairsprayed bee-hive from the 60’s. IMPOSSIBLE.

What the heck was going on?

I looked down at the area in question, and realized that those itty bitty goo balls that had been floating around the bathtub had found a home.

In my lady pelt.

And by trying to wipe, I had essentially smooshed them into long sticky strands of glue. Which were holding pieces of toilet paper firm. And keeping the area stuck together. Hair and all.

I took off my clothes, got back INTO the tub, which dissolved the toilet paper, and started squirting conditioner “there.” Then I took a fine tooth comb and started working out the bits of goo. They were everywhere. And I had to stay on my knees, above the water line, otherwise they would re-congregate where they had landed before, which would only exacerbate the problem.

After about 20 minutes of furious combing and conditioning, I got the bulk of the glue out.

I then decided that maybe I should look into a Brazilian wax before I try this temporary experiment again. Or just bite the bullet and get a real tattoo.

Either way, it’s gonna be painful…

The 75 POUNDS LOST DANCE

2011-03-23T14:06:00.000-05:00

Says, Means and Hears at the Dollar Tree

2011-03-22T13:29:00.000-05:00

No dancing today. I was 164.0 and no amount of peeing was going to change it. I’m waiting until tomorrow. And I’m totally fine with that.

But yesterday, something happened at the store that I wanted to share with you. And I think it’s best to bring back another installment of Says, Means, Hears to explain it all.

This is how the conversation went down standing at the checkout line at the Dollar Tree. (Cause we shop high class establishments in this house)

Natalie: Mom, can we get some Peeps if we only eat the right serving size?

Mom: Sure, kiddo. You can have a treat.

Natalie: Thanks!!! Want me to get you a box too?

Mom: No, hon, remember that whole diet thing I’ve got going on?

(Natalie begins giggling uncontrollably. It's a running joke that mama's on a diet.)

Cashier SAYS: You don’t need to diet. You look skinny.

Cashier MEANS: You look good.

Charlie HEARS: Yay, here's an opportunity to spread my diet message like Jesus is coming back in 10 minutes and I have to save this woman!

Charlie SAYS: Oh, but I do need to diet. I’ve got 25 more pounds to go. I’ve lost 75 pounds so far.

Charlie MEANS: I’m going to hit that 75 pounds lost in the next 24 hours, and I’m never going to see this woman again, so bumping my number up by one pound isn’t going to hurt. It’s not lying, it’s like appraising a house a little higher for insurance purposes.

The Cashier HEARS: I need to lose weight.

Cashier SAYS: Wow! How did you do it? Got any weight loss secrets for me?

Cashier MEANS: I only want to hear that you ate grapefruit for a week and the weight fell off.

Charlie HEARS: Oh, boy, here we go again.

Charlie SAYS: It’s taken me 3 years to get this far. I eat right, exercise, and never give up.

Charlie MEANS: I have spent the last 3 years of my life busting my butt to get this far. I have been in an emotional fetal position trying to deal with the idea that I had a food addiction, and am just now getting to the point that my life is not dictated by Domino’s Bread Bowl Pasta and pizza. I have had failures, successes, but through it all I stayed true to the fact that I would try my best no matter what the scale says. I have had to step out of my comfort zone DAILY to bust through plateau after plateau, I have driven my family NUTS with the constant observations of calorie contents and how my body is changing and can they see the difference in me… I’ve had to remove the instinctual nature that people will make fun of me because I open up about my feelings and my body, and have put myself in a public forum where people can not only read the nitty gritty about my life, but can also comment on it. If you are willing to go through all of that, you can lose 75 74 pounds like me.

Cashier HEARS (while rolling her eyes at my 3 step solution to dieting): That sounds like too much- eating right, exercising and never giving up. I’ll just go eat a snickers on my break and forget about it.

Cashier SAYS: Well, good for you.

Cashier MEANS: I could never do it.

Charlie SEES another fat chick giving up on herself.

Aren’t we all like that in the beginning? We are so used to wonderful things happening to everybody but ourselves, we never dream we could accomplish something like losing weight.

We think…

IT CAN HAPPEN TO ANYONE BUT ME.

We know that isn’t exactly true, but it sure feels true. The truth stands tall- if you are willing to put in the work, the time and the effort, you can do it.

But you have to be willing to accept a few realities:

1. The weight is NOT going to fall off you biggest loser style. Not unless you have 8 hours a day to work out. And most of us don’t.

2. You will not lose every single week. It’s like going on a job interview. Sometimes you get the job, and sometimes you don’t.

3. You have to be willing to deal with the emotional baggage of why you are fat. If you don’t deal with it, the weight will come right back on.

4. You have to have support of some kind. You can’t be a lone ranger dieter. You need a group of people around you to help carry your through.

5. You have to be willing to be uncomfortable. Sometimes, you will feel hungry, hot, sweaty, deprived, frustrated- all of these things are normal.

And finally (and my personal motto):

6. You have to be willing to laugh at yourself. This makes the journey much easier. And fun!

So, what’s holding you back today?

Almost Dancing...

2011-03-21T14:35:00.000-05:00

Today, I wanted to share just a couple of things. I'm making this quick, because the kids are on Spring Break (for 3 weeks) and they NEED my computer to keep them from being BORED. They are cracking me up! Why is it I have so much to do and they seem to have nothing???

Today, I was at 74 pounds lost. I was hoping to get my 75 pound goal today, but I was right on the verge for the second day in a row. But I'm doing lots of housework and packing, so it's going to come off soon.

Also, I am wearing size 8 jeans for the first time I can remember as an adult. Do I have a muffin top? Oh, big time. But can I breathe and move and work? YES YES YES!!! It's amazing how something as silly as a size on a tag can brighten your day!

Finally, we are looking at a house this week. Keep your fingers crossed that this one is "THE ONE." I've had it saved on my realtor.com account for months, but we haven't looked at it yet. So Wednesday night is the night we find out. It's got 4 bedrooms and wait for it... 3 toilets!!!! Seriously, I never thought I would be so excited about toilets, but I'm doing a major happy dance inside. Plus, it's big enough for our family to expand, it's in our price range, and our dear friends the Williams live just a block down. It's mid-construction, which is perfect for some do-it-yourselfers like me and my man. We aren't scared of drywall and painting. We kinda like that type of work.

So that's all the stuff going on in our world. Things are looking up! We are joyfully embracing the challenges ahead, and feeling great about making some big moves for our family.

Now all I need is to hit that 163 tomorrow, and I can really dance!!!

(Oh, yes, there will be horrid white girl dancing if I make it! I'll be posting that video for sure. Make sure you check back on Tuesday morning to see if I made it!)

The Broken Girl

2011-03-17T13:04:00.000-05:00

This post talks about my faith.

I know that not all of you believe as I do, so I wanted to tell you up front this is about my relationship with Jesus.

Feel free to skip it if you want, but if you are hurting, I encourage you to keep reading.

3 years ago, I was utterly and completely broken. I was overweight, we had just moved into a tiny crappy rental, and I was deep in a depression.

In my previous life (before Matt came along as my knight in shining armor), I was told some very destructive words.

You are fat.

You have no talent.

You cannot be a good mother.

You can never support a family on your own.

You cannot be happy without me.

No one will ever love you.

Words are a funny thing- they are spoken to you, you hear the sound, and those words are gone. Except your brain imprints them into your being. I wrote a song called Survivor and one of the lyrics says this:

A few days more and all the marks he left will go away,

But time can’t make her heart forget the words he had to say.

And those are the most honest lyrics I could have ever written.

Words.

So powerful, so fleeting from our mouths, so PERMANENT.

3 years ago, even though I had already married Matt and moved on, those words spoken so long before still held power over me. They lorded over my life as if I was wearing a tattoo on my forehead, and knew the whole world could see it. While I intrinsically knew those things he’d said about me weren’t true, my mind constantly ran them over and over like a top 40 song being repeated on the radio.

One night, as I wrestled with those words- ugly, fat, talentless, unloveable- I reached my breaking point. It was 2am, the rest of the house was asleep, and I fell on the floor in agony.

“God, show me that this is not who I am.”

And I cried. I cried out, I bawled, and I begged God to come to me.

As I sat on my floor, drowning in my sorrow, the most amazing thing happened.

I felt arms from behind me hold me. No one was there, because I looked. But I knew the arms of Jesus were wrapped around me, and in that moment, I was sitting in the lap of God. His was the only lap I wouldn’t have crushed at (at least) 238 pounds.

I have never known such a peace amid my devastation. There were no words that I heard, I just felt comfort. Broken as I was, God unveiled his glory to me when I needed him most.

I sat and cried for 2 hours. And he was holding me that entire time. I told him every hurt, every memory I could recall, and he took it all in like the KING he is.

Finally, as the tears dried up and I ran out of things to say, I felt him slip away as softly as he’d come.

I stood up from the floor, laid on the couch, and went to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, I knew what I had to do.

I had to change. I had to forgive. I had to grow. I had to choose to trust in love. And I had to learn how to let Jesus be the one to lead me.

Now, here I am. 3 years later.

I no longer believe the lies once spoken over me.

I KNOW they are not true.

I was fat, but I’m not now. And it’s taken me the last few months to be able to say that. But I’m saying it now.

I have talent. I am artistic and creative. The fact that so many of you are reading these words today prove to me that I have much to offer this world.

I know I’m a good mom. We don’t spoil our kids, but handing them the world isn’t being a parent. It’s the bedtime kisses, listening about their days when they get off the bus, wiping away their tears, teaching them how to deal with opposition as peacefully as they can. Training them to be socially active if there’s an injustice. Letting my heart break 10 times harder than theirs when they have been hurt by fickle friends at school. Listening to them, and not telling them what they think. Teaching them to think for themselves.

I can support my family, but Matt has graciously allowed me the honor of being a stay at home mom. I owe him the world for that. Every penny he makes supports these children, and they are not biologically his. But they are his kids, to be sure.

I have found happiness. Sure, my life is not often a bed of roses, but that has nothing to do with my personal happiness. My happiness comes from knowing that whatever is going on, there’s a joke to be found somewhere. We can always be thankful and happy that even though our lives aren’t perfect, we are together as a family, and we don’t need things to supply a sense of joy. In fact, the less concerned we are with things, the better life gets!

And I am worth loving. I am loveable. Matt loves me, no question. But at last, I have learned that I truly love myself. At last. Did I deserve to be a victim of domestic violence before? No, not one person in the world deserves that. But being broken by someone makes the love of someone else even sweeter. I can appreciate and embrace that my life is very full of love indeed.

I know that something like a diet seems so trivial to others on the outside, looking in. But my life has been forever changed, and continues to change as I press on to the final goal. I have learned so much about myself and what I am capable of- if I lean completely on Jesus. Together, he and I have healed some serious emotional wounds that I thought I might carry around forever.

But most importantly, I have learned that when you are broken into a million pieces, you can be made whole again.

My shape is different, my heart is different, and I am different.

And I never would have known it if I hadn’t been broken.

There is beauty in my brokenness, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Weight update

2011-03-16T07:01:00.000-05:00

I weighed 166.6, and I was not going to continue the day with that number hanging over my head.

So I re-weighed myself after peeing and stripping.

165.6

That's a number I'm proud of!!!!

73 pounds down and still counting....

Top Ten Reasons I hate Spring Forward

2011-03-14T07:18:00.001-05:00

(I own this clock. I love this clock.)

1. There is no springing involved. In fact, it seems to have the opposite effect on most members of my household. I usually have to pry them out of bed with a crowbar. Hence, no springing. I find that we are much more agreeable to the falling back.

2. An extra hour of time before noon gives all the morning people the upperhand at making us night owls look bad. No offense to you morning glories out there, but seriously, ya'll. I do not deal well with morning people.

3. I have to remember how to reset the clock in my van. And I never can.

4. All the annoying people who go around on the Saturday before saying "Don't forget to spring forward!" I only need one person to tell me. Then I remember. After that, it's like you are rubbing the fact I'm being robbed of an hour's sleep in my face. Next year I'm going to wear a t-shirt that says "I already know about Spring Forward."

5. The fact that Mommy has to seem like the bedtime bad-guy because she sends the kids to bed early. Even though there are still 3 clocks in the house that say 7:30.

6. The fact that we have SO MANY FLIPPIN CLOCKS in this house.

7. The fact that my 8 year old son stumbled out of bed into the kitchen at 6am this morning, hugged me and said "It's early." (I don't hate the child or hugging portion of this. I do hate that it feels like torture to us all.)

8. It is now Monday. And I'm still going to feel like a zombie until at least middle of next week.

9. Insomnia + Time Change = No sleep for me.

And the final reason I hate Spring Forward:

10. I my sleep deprived brain couldn't focus on anything else to blog about.

The 300th post- Looking for WORTH

2011-03-10T17:46:00.001-06:00

It's hard to believe I've written on this blog 300 times over the past 3 years. My oh my, how time flies!

Time flies like the wind, but fruit flies like bananas.

I'm not going to get nostalgic or anything, but my ratio of pound vs. blog posting is 4.25 posts per pound. I guess I need to start writing posts 5 times a day, huh?

Moving on.

My friend Shari posed an interesting question to me the other day. It’s one of those questions I assumed would have a very simple answer. Here’s how the conversation went down.

Shari: (talking about one of her friends) “I told her a bit about your story and she says she wants to talk to you - she's inspired by you!”

Charlie: “See, this is what gets me. I kind-of understand why people are inspired by me, but if you saw what I looked like at this moment (pj pants at 2:22 in the afternoon, no bra, haven't brushed my hair or teeth yet today, and I'm pretty sure this shirt hasn't been washed since last week when I wore it everyday) I laugh at the idea that I could inspire anyone. That's healthy humility, right?”

Shari: “Why does your worth rest on how you look?”

The simple answer should have been conveyed in 2 words.

IT DOESN’T.

But that’s a lie.

Because my worth does rest on how I look. It shouldn’t, but I’d be lying if I said otherwise. My highest and lowest moments in life confirm that fact.

When I sang a solo for my high school showchoir as lead soprano. HIGH. Totally costumed and makeuped out.

Breaking up with my first true love over the phone. LOW. I was wearing a flannel shirt, leggings and a ponytail.

My marriage to Matt. Obviously HIGH. (Even if my “something borrowed” was a tampon which I discovered I needed 30 minutes before the ceremony. Ah, memories…)

Being in the women’s shelter. LOW. I couldn’t even tell you how I was dressed, other than it was summertime, and the clothes I had were in garbage bags.

So in all of these experiences, I’ve deemed that the moments I really shined, great care went into the preparation and outfits. And the low moments were painful and I probably could have been inducted onto “thepeopleofwalmart.com” for what I was wearing.

Does my worth as a person rest on how I look? No, not exactly.

Does my measure of “how successful I feel” rest on how I look? Yes! Yes! Yes!

I know I am a person of worth, but the scales of success tip back and forth like a boat in the ocean.

And isn’t that what we are all striving for? To feel successful in one area or another of our lives?

I know Shari understands. Her high school experience was a lot like mine. We have spent years trying to FORGET the bulk of it. We both felt awkward, out of place, and frustrated at the people around us.

But here’s the cool thing. Even though Shari and I both FELT that way, I never knew that. In fact, I considered her one of my most coolest, interesting and exotic friends! (Not only was she from the New York area- which basically meant anywhere north of Ohio- she was also Jewish!) She was one of those girls that I remember wanting to live up to her expectations, especially because I was 2 years younger than her and it was an honor to just be included in stuff with her. But after high school, she got out of Dodge and we lost touch.

Now, as women who have grown up and reconnected through the powers of Facebook, our paths are very different. Shari has become a self made professional woman, and I am a stay at home mom who blogs. We are pretty much polar opposites in that department.

Yet even on different paths, we still struggle with the idea of worth and success. Both of us. At ages 29 and 29. (cause we have hit that age where we don’t go past 29 ever, even though we are 2 years apart.) We still swing from moments of glorious success to feelings of “Why am I even here?”

Is there a way to become settled in the inbetween?

Maybe somewhere positive between “I can do it” and “I should do it” would be a great place to land. A place where we know our actions relate to the betterment of ourselves. No more emotional eating in the car after a long day. No more stress decisions for ice cream at midnight.

Instead, we should be stepping into the shiny shoes of success each and everyday, knowing the world isn’t going to throw anything at us we can’t handle.

Maybe that’s the key to worth. Maybe it’s the emotional dressing of our souls. If we surround our hearts with self affirmations, brilliant ideas of how we can make the world a better place, ways we can both help someone else and pay it forward- those are things I consider worthy to wear.

No more of this down in the mouth constant state of frustration. Honestly, that’s where I’ve been for the better part of the week- I’ve been Mrs. Crankyhead.

I’m wearing emotional sweatpants. I don’t feel motivated to care, I’ve committed myself to the couch, and because of that- I’m struggling with my worth.

Today I am making the choice to put on some emotional sparkle shoes. Ones that speak about the person I can be! Bright, tall, a little out of the ordinary, but still shoes I can fill.

So, yes, my worth is based on how I look, but I’m going to start considering how the inside looks. Making sure that’s dolled up first.

Then I’ll deal with how I look on the outside.

And hopefully, one day, the emotions and the outside will match perfectly!

One good stomach flu...

2011-03-08T16:28:00.000-06:00

In exactly 5 pounds, I will be the thinnest I have ever been as an adult. Right now, I'm at 167.1, and the least I've ever weighed in at is 162 for 2 days. That means I'm one thing.

(Picture sent to me by Daphne T.)

And living in the Hester House of Hurling, I am in an optimal position to change my life forever.

OK, seriously, I don't condone hurling your way to the top. But if the flu hits me, I'm going to take full advantage of it.

Last night, when I was at the Kmarts (on shopping trip number 2 in 2 hours cause I keep forgetting stuff) I thought the flu had finally hit me from behind.

As I was sitting in the public restroom, checking my email while stuck on the can, I felt really bad for the lady who walked in, smelled the air, and promptly walked out, telling her child "We are going to the other bathroom."

"But Mommy, I really gotta go!"

"Not in there, you don't."

Fantastic. Then I was giggling and pooing. It was not pretty, but it was pretty funny.

This morning, I had Matt get the kids ready for school. Part of the deal for me to stay at home is I get the kids ready for school every day. Unless I'm sick. And today, I was thankful for a man who jumped out of bed on my behalf and found matching socks at 6 in the morning. I'm super lucky to have a fellow like him.

I slept until 11:30 today. It felt great. But I still need to shower and stuff. My tummy is better, but I'm not hungry at all. A cup of coffee seems to be just enough today.

Now, I'm on a mission to scrub the germs out of my house. I've already started tackling the kitchen, scrubbing anything I can reach. And I'm going to keep going. 3 rounds of flu since November 1 person at a time has added up to far too many puke buckets to scrub out. I've had enough.

Have all of you struggled with the flu this winter? Stuff that keeps coming back? What are you doing to clear your house of the germs? I'm looking for ideas.