Today I read Kelly's blog "Run Kelly Run." I was a blubbering emotional mess by the end of it. It was so incredibly helpful to read her thoughts about deciding to run and then running. Really really doing it. And she's not one of those perfectly skinny "OMG let's just run 100 miles for fun" sort of women with whom I (at least at this point) have nothing in common. So, it started me thinking: Perhaps I need to Move My Large Ass.
I should talk a little bit about my life/job/family here. I work full time, for myself, but as freedom giving as this sounds, it's not. Having your own business is expensive. There is No Net. If you don't keep moving at work, you will stop having business and then you will starve. Darling Husband is an artist and is going back to University to finish a teaching degree. There's no other source of income at this point. I worry about how on earth I am going to find a way to work in exercise, with DB's ballet work (he goes 10 - 12 hours per week) and the practice and Husband's hurt back (yesterday, shoveling snow, and now he can't drive) and and and. Where can I fit in that kind of time for myself? Honestly, I tend to want to READ if I'm taking time for myself, not exercise. Also, it feels really really selfish to take the time.
Part of this is tied up in where I put my energy and get my rewards. Like my mother, I have made my career a huge focus and giant source of self esteem. Don't get me wrong. My work is hard. It's a specialty area and I'm good at it. And I like getting self esteem units in any format. But my sense of being just a fat horse pulling a heavy wagon, with no other input, that is just not healthy.
Unlike my mother, I also get huge esteem and have big focus on my little family. Mother really didn't seem to like being a mother, but she taught me some important lessons (bag home ec class and take chemistry) and I am grateful to her for that. I know I am a much better mother than she was. I can say that without any hesitation. She never had any fun, never too much time for herself except for working. That's what being born in the 20's will do for ya.
Anyway, it has been growing on me for some time that I have really become a one or two trick pony (to keep our horse metaphor going) and that in the process, I have bored myself (and likely others) to tears. When I was a teenager (in the pre-cambrian era), I wasn't like that. I was quite social and played four instruments and acted in plays and was drivesified in character. I miss that aspect of myself. There's no going back to high school (thanking god for that) but it is time to diversify my psychological portfolio (especially since my financial one can be depressing).
I think that's where this blog comes in. I think that's where Kelly's inspiration comes in. I think that's why I've been playing with wool. And wanting to paint, which is hysterical, because I have no artistic talent, WHATSOEVER. Honestly, I cannot draw a straight line. And thinking about exercise. Exercise time that is just for me. Exercise time that I like. In grad school I did Jazzercise. I loved it. That was what helped me lose quite a bit of weight. I was about 125 pounds. I was really really physically healthy. I loved it so much, I used to get a discount on classes because I worked as the person who checked people in. But that was twenty-five years ago. And I cannot wrap my head around liking anything remotely associated with cardiovascular stuff, for all kinds of reasons, including the ones I've talked about here.
However these thoughts may be related to all these weird dreams I keep having. Monday night, it was that the house was burning down around me. Last night, the tornado dreams returned.
I think it was Karl Jung who said that the house is the symbol of the self. If that's the case, then something really is afoot.
Oh and Good Scale read 202.8 this morning. I'm back into reasonable territory again.
One Woman's Quest to Lose Large and Ugly Panties Forever
I've had it with ugly panties that fit my large behind. I'm done with clothes for the large woman that just aren't as cute as the clothes I wore twenty years ago. I'm tired of wheezing as I go up the stairs. I've got sixty pounds to lose - because on my fiftieth birthday, I'm dancing naked in a thong, dammit. And it better be pretty. This little bunny rabbit is hopping me down the weight loss lane. I wanted a pair of big granny panties rolling through the grass, but I'm not computer savvy.