And now...

Mmm. Done with my arbitration but stuck in Florida one more day while the weather gets better in South Carolina. What a wacky week! I am off from one beach to another. For now, I head out of my hotel (hallelujah) for a dip in some beautiful water. Another mmmm. Perhaps I will even swim. And burn some calories. Hey, now there's an idea! I am dying to get to vacation and find a tennis court. I practically had withdrawal this week! Whew. :)

Still waters...

wavy waters, bubbly waters, tub waters, ocean waters, pool waters, bottled waters, falling waters (not teh Frank Lloyd Wright Falling Water). I love them all. Peaceful. Drinkable. Beautiful. Ethereal. I wish I could be more like water. Just be. (I do not wish I could be less of a dork though. Then I wouldn't take pictures of my shadow in the swimming pool.)

Here I Am...

Rock you like a hurricane. (The Scorpions)

I am in Florida for work. Waiting for Ernesto to make up its mind. Eating like a cochon in the meantime. For those non-francophones, it's a pig. But doesn't it sound better in French? Ohh la la.

I am happy. It isn't always about weight. Sometimes it is about orange clouds and cotton candy heavens. Amen.

Surely you can't be serious.

I am serious. And don't call me Shirley.

So this nice guy, Martin, runs a tennis clinic in Zurich, Switzerland. (www.mgbsports.org) and coaches tennis players and gives talks and presentations all over the world. This week, he is in New York because two of his players are dueling it out in the qualifiers for the U.S.Open. So guess who, out of the kindness of his heart and in total charity, gave me a pro bono lesson in the park. You guessed it: Martin! (footnote to story: I met Martin online over a year ago and had never met him in person nor ever thought I would when he called out of the blue before his trip here. I know, how bizarre, how bizarre. I bet you want that song now, doncha?) WOW. I have to say, I was embarrassed but I was able to get past that if it meant a chance to really learn and improve. I now feel totally correct in referring to myself as Tennis Whore. (i.e., Nothing I won't do for a good swat at some balls.) He is a phenomenal and very encouraging teacher. I will be accepting donations for the Lucia to Zurich tennis fund soon. Har har. What a treat and what a gift! Speaking of gifts, any thoughts on what I could give him as a thank you goody? Though he acknowledged (shocker) that I am not really a natural born athlete, (I know, scoop your jaws off the ground) he did assure me that I can be a player. Hello, I know that. Oh, uh, er, he meant tennis player, you fool! ;)

Weight today: Holding steady at 265. My chance of hitting the goal of 260 by the end of August is looking GRIM. And this is how it goes. Work in progress.

ANOTHER box of cremated remains?

Well, what did you expect? Something picturesque? Predictable? A little Andrew Wyethesque? Ah yes, me too. But what do we get? Still life with rat traps and gel titty on the silver chest. Just when you think life isn't rich, you see something like this and realize it is.

1) Gel boob from the flea market in South Carolina. Can you believe the bargain of it costing a single dollar? Oh, life. Yes, rich.

2) Unrelated to 1). So, I reflect on death sometimes. Not in an I'd-like-to-try-it way but in a well, isn't-that-a-curious-topic kind of way. My mother's favorite game from time to time when I was younger was "Who are your pall bearers?" I still think about that when evaluating friends. You're a pall bearer - you're in. A mere funeral attendee - you're out. Like that. But now, this doesn't really jive with my wish to be cremated. I have refined my cremation wishes and they go something like this (very strict)... and my new idea allows everyone I love to be a pall bearer - of sorts.
Would like a funeral but more like a party. Hope people will feel free to wear wild clothes, dye their hair pink, and don platforms of all metallic varieties. (What, you say? This sounds like a circus freakshow? To that I say, So?) Then cremation. If you don't think about what it is, it actually is an almost yummy word. Mmm. Creamy. Creamation. Like making ice cream out of anything. Animation from cream. Yes, please. So, second feature of life after lulicious - and I realize this is a bit well, thinking outside the box. Forget sprinkling my ashes somewhere scenic. Forget tears and speeches and mournful tunes. Forget propriety. Just creamate me (not cremate. puh-lease!) and sprinkle a little bit of my ashes in a delicious recipe. Cupcakes. Rice krispies treats. Cookies. Meringues (I would look so good in that.) Fluffy, sugary concoctions with gobs of pastel frosting, silver balls, sprinkles, jimmies, powdered sugar. Distribute to loved ones. Serve with milk. And champagne.

And yes, I know this entry had precious little (okay, okay NONE) to do with the photo. To that I also say, So?

Thought/ retort of the day: So?

Just keep swimming!

As you may have read before, when I hemmed and hawed about whether to wear a bikini, I wear one.

The last time I was at my mother's (before this past weekend) I found a signed "contract" in her dresser drawer.

It read: I will NEVER wear a bikini. That it GROSS. LB. My dad said, "when did you write that?" Me: June. Ha ha haa. I wrote it when I was probably 8 and thought that bikinis were just the final offense in the world of most revolting offenses. So proud. So, so, so proud. Just keep swimming. Bikini or not.

Raw

There is only so much pretending I can do. I was pretending to be fit, pretending to be on my way, pretending to move ahead. While I suppose, technically, I am still making progress, I hit a wall today. Or, I guess I should say, one hit me.
Got up early, showed up for tennis with a new pro. He was perfectly nice but could barely hide his surprise when he saw me. I know it is probably weird for him to see someone overweight (really overweight) at a tennis lesson. He did fine until I think he started to worry that I was going to keel over. Yes, when I move around, I sweat and turn red. And, yes, I probably do it much more than people half my weight who have been playing tennis more than 2 months. He was so kind and asked me a bunch if I was okay, if I wanted water...I finally said, "I know I am out of shape but I am working on it. I have come a long way and you should not worry." I don't want to be treated differently. I can't bear explaining. Apologizing onve more time. I know despite my struggles, I look the same from the outside, to someone who has never met me. I sensed that he gave up on me before I ever got a chance to show I could do it. Which I can't. But I want to. I managed to wait until I got home to weep. And now I can't stop. I am so sad. All that I manage to avoid caught up with me today. It feels so awful. So raw. So helpless. So little. So sad. The manatee. I think, intellectually, at least, I know this is temporary. Unfortunately, I have not been able to connect that thought to the tear ducts. Punched.

Hoover, but I hardly even know her

Its photo is small but the machine is powerful. According to epinions, it "sucks so hard it could leave hickeys!" (no joke.)http://www.epinions.com/content_32755519108

My housekeeper has complained for months that my fake vaccuum cleaner can't get the cat hair out of the rug. I am sure it can't do much more than that. I tried to politely explain that I could either afford a housekeeper or a new vacuum cleaner, but not both at once. So, I have now capitulated and am the proud owner of a hickeymaker. It was shipped, because there is no way to receive it at home, to my office. Well, this was embarrassing. But nothing like getting it home... As usual, I thought approaching the situation with humor was the best idea. I took the attachments home in one trip and then body last night. I got myself all psyched up, dressed appropriately (no flip-flops) and made my plan: quickest cab I could get. Got down to the street with hoover in tow and brow in furrow. I was concentrating on theme song options and lamenting the lack of videographer to document my plight (which would later be set to appropriate theme song). Because I had taken the handle home in the first trip, I had to carry this pup like a kid, slung on my hip, both arms around. I was tickled. Then, a woman walking towards me started to giggle. Then my theme song came to me: hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go...hi ho hi ho hi ho. At the same time these two bolts were striking, I was going for a near head on with a well tanned (though not naturally) much older woman - had to be a Florida retiree - with a red and white striped sequined shirt who had DIPPED herself in a vat of old lady perfume. I short circuited. While trying to say something witty to the laughing woman and simulaneously sub-consciously trying to name that perfume in one note, my brain crossed wires. I laughed and growled "Youth Dew!" Then just hugged my little sucker and laughed all the way to the corner. I love my life.

No Pain, I Gain

Well, not exercising is NOT working. I know, big surprise. I feel mostly tired and don't get motivated. Happily, feeling sick of being a fat, greedy American (in other words, a typical one), is getting me interested! I have been so ashamed of how greedy and self-centered the average American is. I forget because my friends and colleagues - and for that case, my neighbors and many New Yorkers - are compassionate and informed, fit and generous. A trip to the movies reminded me of the others. The theatre was filled with people ages 14+ (mostly, except for the brilliant parents who brought infants, toddlers, and young children to see a horror movie). They burped (and worse), screeched, cursed, shouted racial epithets and screamed. For the ENTIRE movie. I was shocked. I still am. But even more than surprised, I am disappointed that we are becoming a culture of MEs. What am I saying? We have already become. I seem to have become that too. Outwardly, my body tells people "I don't care if I eat more than my share. Me!" And I do care.
Not exercising for a few days has cost me. I took a several day break from tennis because the "wound" (that makes me laugh) on my shoulder was still healing. Yesterday, it drove me so crazy that, when the doctor's office was unable to see me until Friday to remove stitches that were growing into my skin, my brave friend and co-worker TF removed the stitches with some cuticle clippers at my desk. My phone call to the doctor that followed the procedure (har har) har) was, shall we say, less than pleasant for the receiving party. Evil. Sometimes I revel in stuff like that. But this really was too much.
That said, stitches out, lunch cooked, walking shoes on. Fresh out of excuses. (What does "fresh out" mean? What a weird phrase. But it makes me smile. I feel like an old-timey fishmonger or store clerk.) Off to work. I used to love what my friend D said at the end of a bad day, "tomorrow is another day." And, thank goodness, it always is!

Oh, I don't mind...

I just didn't feel like getting up today. It rained so there was no tennis lesson. And then I really didn't feel like getting up. Norma supported this feeling.

Okay, so despite my deep fear that no one is going to be able to love me in my current state (ugh, or ever?), I am trying - every now and then - to get back out there somehow. I am online and receive emails from short men telling me that they don't mind my height. This is infuriating. One physical trait (maybe the only one) that I am not remotely self-conscious of is my height. Who are these midgets to reassure me that is doesn't bother them that I am tall? Does anyone consider that it might bother ME to go out with someone who is a petite little girl-boy!? Whew. Too much. Should I give up? Just go ahead and adopt some more cats? Buy some aprons and start crocheting? I will try to focus on the story value. Sigh.

This morning's broken record thought: snooze button, snooze button, snooze button.

Today

Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine, I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine. A million tomorrows shall all pass away Ere I forget all the joy that is mine today.

To hear the whole song: http://www.ziplo.com/Today.html

Ohmmmm.

The Alps from the airplane window in May. It's an old photo but I never get tired of looking at it. Of course, next time I see this view, it will be without lotion, water, or lip gloss on board with me. And my baby sister will be turning 30! Is the world getting crazier or is it just me? (He hee. I am running out of humor about some of this though...)

Well, on the topic of mountain ranges, I have news to report that my bosom (word that makes me laugh) is downsizing. I am delighted about this and wait for the magic moment when my posture springs back to normal a la slingshot style. Not far now, my little smurfs. I can summarize my feelings on this thus: no boobs is good boobs. Naughty smirk. What a dork!

Other good news: It's FRIDAY!
Other funny words: knapsack, salve, gargantuan. Feel free to contribute.

Desperate Times

call for desperate measures. In other words, I wanted to eat this sno-cone. No kidding. You will be happy to learn that I summoned all my will power - and passed. No small miracle there.
I am finally starting ease out of the queen troll mood. Some of your reading this might not care but that's because you haven't been directly affected by my daily verbal tantrums. I enjoyed them all. Thanks for listening. Moving right along.... Whew.
This cone doesn't even look good does it? I just get obsessed (no hyperbole there, folks, I really do) with frozen treats when it's hot. I am single handedly making sugar-free popsicle's stock rise. Today I will work on making a somewhat more meaningful contribution to the world than that one.

Fabulous song you probably forgot about for while: Misled by Kool and the Gang. Reminder courtesy of Jen. Oh yeah!

One

...is the loneliest number. Well folks, sorry to disappoint but the leprosy is back. That's a disgustingly prevalent thought these days: I am a leper. Untouchable. Unlovable. I guess I can wait a year. NOT. So, to break by bad mood streak, I started my day by going to the gynecologist. Oh yeah, that'll do it every time. Don't worry, at least I didn't have to wait long, only an hour. But with fun like that, it's worth the wait.
Is the sarcasm detector going off anywhere out there? I thought this could trigger it... sigh.
Well, we have one small improvement: blood pressure. 120/70. This is healthy. In my past, it has been as high as 140/90. I would call this an improvement. Also got some kudos on my weight loss. Unfortunately, I don't think my doc recanted her diagnosis of "pendulous breasts" which I saw in my chart when I peeked during the last visit. Is this a serious medical diagnosis? Who came up with this? (I am guessing it wasn't a woman or any kind of scientist who has ever heard of natural forces like, say, GRAVITY.) Whew. What does it say about me that being sarcastic and caustic (sarcaustic) makes me feel better? Perhaps you'll agree that this is a better course than biting.

This morning's weather is divine. Sometimes in New York, I almost forget that trees exist. The park reminds me that there are many - and some really pretty ones, with nice shade and kind, welcoming branches. Ahhhh. Breeeaaaathe.

Song I can't get out my head: One (as performed by Aimee Mann of Til Tuesday)
One is the loneliest number
That you'll ever do
Two can be as bad as one
It's the loneliest number since the number one...

Yes, Virgina...

...losing a few lbs does make a difference! LB losing lbs. He hee. I try to look at this and feel some compassion instead of screaming "GROSS! How did you ever get anyone to hang out with you like this!?" Then I step back and realize that I look happy. I also look like a dummy/puppet...the lines on either side of my chin look like that. He hee.

A bad mood is just smothering me today. I can't figure out exactly what's happening right now. I am amazed at how my perception of my reflection hinges on my mood...happy= tolerable, sad= repulsive. GOSH. The bus rides in the morning are the worst. Introspection. Loneliness. Emptiness. Trying to see the good is a major struggle.

Well, after all, this picture makes me smile... in the end.

Today's theme song: Comfortably numb.

Pretty In Pink

So, in keeping with my promise to do or get little treats for myself at various milestones, I have purchased a pink enameled collander. Or, when I am being particularly goofy, a hat. This is one more way I can remember to enjoy being healthy. Green beans, asparagus, squash, peas - they all look pretty in pink. I bought this for the last ten pounds though my weight has stayed up a pound...It will be okay.

I played tennis yesterday and went to the Holiday Inn in midtown where I paid $50 (yes, you read it correctly) to use their pool for a day. What I didn't know as I hemmed and hawed over whether to participate in the rip-off was what sort of people watching that money would buy. Beyond worth it. Mel the magician, 80, Dali mustache. The manager of the hotel, also Dali mustache. The 500 pound sunbathing smoke stack... rich rich rich! The hooker. The half drowned boy. The tattooed woman. All characters. All rewards.

Fun itune of the day (ipod song for the bus): Suddenly I see, KT Tunstall

Foolio (Double)

Okay, how many times do I need to do this to learn? I think that is my life's theme: failure to learn from multiple lessons. Weight. Tennis. Work. Guys. Sunblock. (Sigh.) Okay, so I like to think of myself as vigilant about sunblock. Well, guess what. It doesn't work unless you apply it correctly. Sigh. X marks the spot. I am currently loving the word "nitwit." Does anyone know if that is with a k? Knitwit? Well, I am in good enough spirits today to withstand my own silly insult - with or without a k. He hee. Lotion please?

Well, here is a little glitch: my weight went up today. The beauty of this little discovery is that I did not freak out or fall into a day-altering slump. I rolled with it. I know I am on the right track and there will be ups as well as there are downs (hopefully in 10 to 90 ratio... but still). I can feel myself slowly accepting the process... and accepting that this THING is a process. It's funny sometimes. I think, "oh, doing well. I am sure it's a huge difference." And, I suppose it is a decent difference, but there is still a long way to go. A year of intense focus on my health is 1) totally contrary to my obsession with instant gratification and 2) totally contrary to my need to ignore myself. Ah. Here is what I am thinking. 40 down. This basically means that I have to do what I have just done two more times (and a little). Divide and conquer. See, I am figuring this out...

Weight today: (grr.) 266. An hour of tennis today and tomorrow, stubborn little pound, TAKE THAT! You can't stay here. And neither can your pound posse.

A stitch in time...

My grandmother (and probably yours too) used to say "a stitch in time saves nine." I got five stitches today and that is my big news. I haven't had stitches since the bunny bit my finger off 29 years ago! Well, I guess now and then it's okay. So, I got a mole removed. I will have a big scar and look super tough. Downside" no exercise for 12 days. You think I listen? They should have told me that before I booked court time and paid for lessons. A.k.a., I will be disobeying. The nurse said that the worst that could happen is that I will pop a stitch. They can replace that... and I will have a scar anyway. Vigilante. Rebel. Tennis pro wannabe.

Took the day off work to do the "surgery" and chill (ha ha. Well, it wasn't 100 degrees today.) It was nice to just walk around and be mellow. Still figuring things out - as I will be. I keep trying to remember "work in progress." I got a sign from the universe today that I am doing right. While I was walking, an older woman walked towards me in a tank top. Her tank top slogan? Work In Progress. No joke.

Weight today: 265. That's 40 DOWN. Work in progress. It is slow but not impossible.

All Eggs in One Basket

I am trying not to put them all in one basket. I did, however, dye all of them. In my quest to make this new eating business fun (and am succeeding, miraculously), I boiled all my eggs for this week in Easter egg dye. I felt like a total kook and enjoyed every minute of it. I am already laughing about putting them in the fridge at work.

I am again heading up to the tennis courts - for an early lesson. More than the need to beat the predicted 100 degree heat, I am desperate to play with people who can actually play which necessitates some serious catching up on my part!

Pearl Daddy's comment to yesterday's entry was so thoughtful, not to mention helpful. I am again happily reminded to be grateful. Gratitude and a regular focus on it are helping me turn some of my crazy mean thoughts around. I can't really hate my legs at the same time I am loving them for holding me up and carrying me through amazing adventures or terrible troubles. I can't curse my fat hands while focusing on the fact that I have both of them - and they have held babies, instruments, foriegn stones and coins, and - well, of course- delicious food. You get the idea. Thank you Pearl Daddy!

Hoppy Wednesday! (CM always says "Happy Humper" which makes me feel like a naughty third grader. Giggly.)

Fun walk to work song: And She Was by Talking Heads
...
And she was looking at herself
And things were looking like a movie
She had a pleasant elevation
She's moving out in all directions

The world was moving and she was right there with it (and she was)
The world was moving she was floating above it (and she was) and she was
...

Thanks But No Thanks

Okay, so it's not a cat's lunch of choice. Probably not mine either. But my choice is to take care of myself which sometimes means a weird lunch: cucumber slices, steamed spinach and baba ganouj. Each time I feed my body, I have a choice. I never really thought about it that way before. When it's time to eat, I can give my body something it wants, something it can use or I can give it something worthless thatit will store in a special container known as a fat pouch. I am no kangaroo and have no use for pouches. Or paunches. Or ponchos for that matter but that's a separate topic, isn't it?
Early morning saw me on the tennis court today. I have made a commitment. I think about my choices each morning: to wake up with a mission, focused, to eat in a way that brings my goal closer, to find physical activity where I can, to say slightly gentler things to my reflection. This last one is the hardest and I know it is the most important for long term success. I still don't naturally think "I deserve to feel good. I deserve to look good. I deserve to take care of myself." Still, I am not missing my comfort foods that I now know are the sabatoge tools. When I approach my worries and shortcomings in even a slightly kinder way, I need no ice cream, no fritos for breakfast, no candy. Those foods mean (to me) "you are an awful person. Feel awful. You are nothing. You are invisible. " And they help me reach those goals - which is what they become when self-hate is my mantra - of being out of touch, numb, invisible, a lard ass. Chubby. Fat. Lazy. Corpulent. Slovenly. Good-bye frito breakfasts. Find someone else.
I have begun to understand, however small my progress is so far (and relatively speaking, the weight loss so far is small. The other progress, muuuch less small.) that I can design some parts of my life. For the first time that I can ever remember, I have started to feel tiny twinges of being in control. I feel less "drifty" and more"designy," becoming more of a participant in my life. I enjoy getting up earlier, cooking in a rush in my towel before work. I like to think about the sacrifices I make to be healthier and then to focus on enjoying making them. This is going to take a long time. And it is going to be worth it.