Lately I’ve been reading a lot of ‘stuff.’ I do this in the mornings, over coffee. I’ll be scrolling through my Facebook, Twitter, or LinkedIn feeds and something will catch my eye. So from time to time, I’m’a gonna share these links or videos with you. Hope you enjoy!
Writers, don’t we hate the proofreading process? We’re almost there, almost have that novel DONE, yet there’s the tedious business of proofreading. I not only need to proofread my own novels, but I also proofread in my editing business. Quick and Dirty Tips has 10 Tips to Banish Typos. A nice list, though I ain’t a’reading my work or my client’s work backwards; I just ain’t gonna! I’ll add one to it: I have my Kindle read my book, or my client’s book, to me—believe me, this works!
Am I a Real Writer? Yup, this question is still asked by many writers who may feel they don’t quite measure up, or that their writing is seen as a hobby, or maybe they won’t consider themselves a Real Writer until their book is published. If you’ve ever struggled with this, go ye and read Kristen Lamb’s post Diagnosing a REAL Writer: Do You Have Terminological Inexactitude Syndrome?
The World’s Most Relaxing Film: “The World’s Most Relaxing Film will make you relax in just 7-minutes. It has been recorded based on advice of experts from the fields of stress, mindfulness, nature therapy and music therapy. The film was recorded on the West Coast of Zealand (Sjællands Vestkyst), in Denmark.”
I love scones. What I love about the ones that are done correctly is that they aren’t too sweet and they aren’t too moist and they aren’t crumbly dry—the perfect ones are just right! And if you, like me, have a difficult time finding those perfect scones: make your own! I do! And the best, easiest recipe I found that I use every single time is King Arthur Flour Scone Recipe. I have experimented with different additions (like nuts, fruit, lemon zest, peanut butter, oats, etc) to the basic recipe, all with success. The only thing I do differently in the basic recipe is I usually add half a stick more butter–I just like it that way.
Maybe you don’t need to boost your sex drive. I don’t! I swear! Raise your hand if you do *no one raises their hand* – Well, in the case any of you who didn’t raise your hand secretly wants to raise your libido, here are, according to Readers Digest, 9 Vitamins and Herbs That Can Boost Your Sex Drive
When I post these links, I’m going to post at least one “wild card” link. One that I stumbled on while looking for something else, and something about it piqued my interest. The website/blog that I am exploring right now is: Dave2 from Blogography: “Blogography is a place to learn and grow by exposing yourself to the mind of David Simmer II, a brilliant commentator on world events and popular culture (or so he claims).” (Note from me: HE wrote “or so he claims” -not I. *laugh*)
In the Superman franchise, Kryptonite is the one thing that makes Superman weak. While that glowing green rock is made up, scientist have found a Kryptonite and believe the conditions could be that it could form on other planets that have the extreme pressure to create it—not the glowing green rock kind, but a Kryptonite all the same. To read more, click HERE.
Also, The Daily Mail: “An influential astrophysicist claimed to have found Superman’s home planet Krypton after being hired by DC Comics to find its location. The fictional planet Krypton would have orbited a red dwarf star called LHS 2520, says Neil deGrasse Tyson, director of the American Museum of Natural History’s Hayden Planetarium in New York City. The star is 27.1 light-years from Earth in the southern constellation Corvus, also known as ‘The Crow’, says Dr. Tyson. The star is cooler and smaller than our sun. Read more CLICK HERE.
We all have our Kryptonite—in life, in people, and for the purposes of this post today: in our food choices. And my Kryptonite left me feeling weak and unhealthy–more on how I “experimented” with my body’s health, in a minute.
In today’s post about dating and relationships, I want to talk to you about your health. What’s that have to do with dating and relationships, Kat? Well! A lot! If you are not healthy and strong, everything is more difficult—and that includes dating. This isn’t about “looks,” though if you are concerned about that, then make it about that if you like. This is about respect. Respect for our bodies and minds, and dating or finding a relationship with someone who respects their body and mind. Food and movement are two relatively easy ways to do that—I write “relatively easy” because food choices are often jam-packed with other “issues” that have nothing to do with food, but that’s thoughts that will make this post even longer than it is!
Your weight on other planets–just for fun–I usually include our weight on other planets as part of my planet posts, and that’s where I find that information.
In my travels about the galaxy, okay, only on Earth, I notice this little phenomenon: When some humans are single they go on “diets,” and work out, etc, in order to feel “attractive” to the potential partners. Suddenly, it’s important to them to look their best, feel their best, act their best, be their best. Then, when they enter into a relationship, they drop it all and go back to unhealthy lifestyles. What.Is.Up.With.That.Y’all?
Don’t you respect yourself and your body in relation to You, and not in relation to whether you are with someone? Don’t you want to feel strong and independent and capable and healthy both in and out of a relationship? Don’t you love You first? If you don’t love and respect You, then will you attract those who love and respect themselves?—because that combination is a healthy one: you respect/love You and they respect/love Themselves, and together is a powerhouse of mutual love and respect. Entering the dating world, arm yourself with healthy-choices armor and you can decide to expect good health from your dating partner(s). I am not talking about judging here. I’m absolutely not talking about body shaming: Stop That People who are doing that! And for gawd’s sake I’m not talking about “changing someone.” I never want to change someone; why would I want to? You shouldn’t either.
My healthy lifestyle has been a part of me for many many years—in relationships and out of them. It is a huge important part of who I am. I like feeling healthy and strong. It’s not just about your looks and weight, folks. It’s about strength and power. It’s about a clear mind. It’s about good sex—yes! How do you expect to have really great sex if you aren’t healthy?
If you are huffing and puffing before you get to the good part? Or what if you cannot achieve the good part because you are unhealthy? Hmmm? If that’s “not important to you” then why the hell not?
No matter what our physical bodies look like, or how we perceive them to look like, if you are strong and healthy you will be beautiful or handsome. And I am not talking about “skinny” or “thin,” I am talking about Strong. You will feel powerful, empowered. You will stride about the Earth, or any planet at all, with confidence and grace and power and good health.
Take a look at the photos I am scattering here and there. Are any of these things in your pantry or refrigerator—and I don’t mean with mold on them—are they? No? Why not? Fresh fruits and vegetables, plenty of water, nuts and seeds, homemade sauces instead of always purchasing them (you control what goes in your sauce), (not shown-)brown rice. I don’t eat a lot of meat, but when I do it’s usually poultry or some kind of seafood, and other days I find other protein sources.
Being the Lonely Woman, it’s difficult to cook because it’s only me. And if I prepare something
delicious, there’s no one to share it with. As well, except for rare occasions, I don’t particularly enjoy cooking. But I refuse to go schlepping to some fast food place—ugh! Or fill my pantry/fridge with a lot of processed foods—but I did fall into this trap, as you’ll read below.
Do you work out? At all? You don’t have to be a member of a gym. I converted a small part of my garage in the lil log spaceship to a workout room. There’s a mini trampoline, some weights, a bench, a boxing bag, yoga mats, etc. Doesn’t take up much space, and right there in your own home! Walking and jogging/running is free. I have exercise bands and tubes. There is yoga/pilates, but be sure to have good instruction so you don’t injure yourself. (And, see your doctor before starting a new exercise program). Get off your ass and move, y’all. That’s my old personal trainer voice—but seriously, folks—this is important. Especially the older we become. When you are in shape, you walk across a room and feel your muscles move—there isn’t that jiggly feeling of unused muscles. Feel your power. Feel sexy and alive. It’s not just about looking good in your jeans, but in how it changes other areas of your life. I’m not just referring to women here–all my posts are for both genders!
This year, I did an experiment of sorts. I thought, “Maybe I’m blowing smoke up my own ass. Maybe all this working out and eating right is bullshit.” I became one of those hungry black holes snarfing
up foods I’d before only eaten occasionally. Potato chips—hand em over! Ice cream: oh, those Magnums are delish! French fries—give me more! Candy—mmmmm! Lots and lots of CHEESE! Ohhhhh, cheese! Alcohol most every day—which is full of sugars.
Sugar is my Kryptonite, y’all. We all, as I wrote above, have a food Kryptonite: sugar, white processed carbs, nothing but meat in our diet with no fruits or veggies, fast food, fried foods—find out what your Kryptonite is and resolve to control that craving.
During my “experiment” I thought, “So, this is what it’s like to eat and drink whatever you want and how much ever you want! Well Dang! Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.”
Ha. Yeah. Then the problems began.
At first I didn’t notice anything. I needed to gain back a little weight I’d lost (when you ‘starve’ yourself, your body will cannibalize itself, including beautiful muscle. You may be “thinner” but you aren’t healthy). After several months of this, the weight came on fast. But this was not healthy muscular weight and instead was bloaty sluggish weight. And, worse, I noticed other things, bad things, happening to me. I’ll list a few here and see if you are experiencing any:
Daily headaches, painful stomachaches, aches in my body that I didn’t have before and I injured easier; my hair lost its luster and there was a lot more hair strands in my comb (eeek!). My pants became tighter around my waistline in an unfamiliar uncomfortable way. I began to have sudden woozy feelings and a foggy head.
I gave up my running—something I really loved, because I “just didn’t feel like it,” and my weight training declined because “Whatever. I’m busy.” I wasn’t boxing the bag—because “I just wasn’t in to it.” I still walked, a lot, and had my healthy foods still here in the lil log spaceship, and that saved me from completely ruining my health.
Enough was enough. I wanted my Self back.
The only way to completely move away from your Kryptonite is to shove it out of your house until the cravings pass. Once you feel better and in control, you want to allow a treat every so often.
I quit purchasing the sugary treats. I cut out the alcohol in the lil log spaceship—I will only drink in a social situation and keep it to 2 drinks. I stocked my fridge and pantry with my fruit and veggies and brown rice and other healthy foods. And I’m not referring to “Diet Food.” I have my peanut butter (I use the “Natural” brand-no added sugar), and jam (I choose the less added sugar brand), and I drizzle honey on my fruit. Until I get over the Kryptonite sugar craving, the treats have to stay Out.
As I began to feel better, my other good habits returned. I’m running again, boxing the bag again, weight training. My headaches—gone. My stomachaches—gone. My hair is responding too, because I haven’t been seeing the strands in my comb like before. My clothes are fitting better again. My muscles are toned and strong. My mind is clearer and I stopped having those woozy off-balance feelings.
Ah. I’m back! I literally looked in the mirror and thought, “There I am.”
So you tell me, my lovely friends: which lifestyle do you think I prefer? Which lifestyle do you want to live?
Are you having any health issues, even if they seem “minor” that plague you? Perhaps it is time to change the way you think about food and your body and your muscles and your well-being.
I promise you this: when you begin dating again, or even if you are now, or are in a relationship, everything will feel better—you will feel stronger and empowered, the sex will be better, your energy and outlook on life better. You’ll feel sexier and more alive. You’ll show that you respect yourself, because you do! Aren’t you worth it? I say do this no matter whether or not you want to date or find a relationship—do it For You!
First stop: open your refrigerator and pantry and consider its contents. Second stop: do not go on a diet! Please do not. Look at that dog food photo—yeah, I know, but that’s such a great example, ha!—one side is the regular dog food and the other side is a “healthy weight” diet dog food. Notice how the regular is brighter colored and plumper looking, more appetizing, than the dried up diet stuff? Yeah, it’s like that. You can still have treats, and alcohol, and even your Kryptonite—make sure you know your Kryptonite and then don’t keep it in the house, or purchase just enough for one serving.
Third stop: Move. Move. Move! Get off your ass and MOVE!
No excuses—yes, being lonely sometimes sucks. Yes, cooking for one can be boring. Yes, eating alone can feel, well, lonelier. But we can decide that we’re going to enjoy life and good food and even the preparation of it because We Are Worthy.
Are you ready? Hop in your lil spaceship and head to Earth Supermarket or Farmer’s Market and fill your basket with good healthy alternatives to Crap. And what did I say to do? Yes MOVE!
Try it, and then tell me how it is working out for you. I want to know.
Still time to comment/like here or on Facebook for the “Kat’s Choice” drawing, which I will only be doing a drawing about once every now and then. This blog isn’t about finding people to “like” me or comment. It’s about me having fun and doing what I love: writing about things I enjoy.
And my novel The Lightning Charmer is on sale August 16 – 31, for $1.99, e-books only! It’s for all e-books, not just Amazon, though the link above takes you to Amazon. There’s actually some delicious, or disastrous, dating in there, too.
A haunted man shadows the Smoky Mountain forest. A lonely woman returns to what she left behind. A legacy unfulfilled calls out to them both. .
The sky darkens, the lightning seeks . . .
The Lightning Charmer is full of whimsy, enchantment, ancient secrets, and dark earthy seduction. Magendie taps into those primal secret places we all harbor, with a powerful story of learning where one fits in a world that may not fit us. Braided with color, humor, and loyalty to family, this is storytelling at its best! Sharla Lovelace, Bestselling and Award Winning author of THE REASON IS YOU
If you like Southern/Appalachian/Family Saga fiction (sometimes with a supernatural touch), then I hope you will consider one of my novels (or short story “snacks”) by clicking on this link to my Amazon Page. I appreciate your support!
It seems that Earth has a mini Moon (it’s not really a moon but I like to think it is) that’s been around for about a hundred years. Only no one knew it until recently. This little asteroid has been circling round Earth for a long time, and will stick around for a much longer time—centuries maybe.
Scientists call this moon a “near-Earth companion.” Asteroid 2016 HO3 orbits the sun but stays this constant Earth companion. It never strays far away. There was once another asteroid that followed for a while, but it went away—buh-bye. If I may personify for a moment: I wonder if Moon grieved that companion? If space seemed more spacier after that moon was gone.
But this little moon is “. . . much more locked onto us.”
If the asteroid drifts ahead or behind or too far away forward or backward, the Earth uses its strong gravitational force to hold tight to the asteroid so it can’t or won’t wander away too far.
It also stops the little moon from becoming too close.
Ah. There it is. The irony. The contradictory contrariness of relationships.
Ah. It all sounds like Human Relationships, doesn’t it? Are you the little moon? The Earth? The Sun? Do you try to get away and are pulled back by the gravitational force of someone? Will you stick around for centuries, or go away as the other little moon did?
A “Near Companion”—that seems rather perfect to me. Not too close, not too far. And always with the knowing you could spiral off and away as the other asteroid did if things become too . . . too . . . permanent—whooosh! Buh-bye. Dang. I pitiful myself.
If you are your own companion, out there as Moon seemed to be before little moon was
discovered, you must find ways to navigate the universe as Lonely You. One of those things is the obtaining of and cooking of (or not cooking of) and eating of food. Today I’ll talk about the preparing and eating of Alone Fooding.
When I pop out from my lil log spaceship for supplies, I try not to be resentful of the money and time it takes to gather and pay for food. I’m tempted to grab the easiest most processed crap-a-doodle-doo-doo because cooking alone and eating alone while not always horrid can be rather boring and uninspired. You can’t cook something delicious and then have someone say, “Omg! This is so delicious! You are amazing!” Or on the other hand, you cannot say that to the person who just prepared you something amazing. Dang.
But since I am a healthy woman—I was a personal trainer for many years—and I know what I am to do to keep my body and mind strong, I try to prepare healthy food most of the time. Though I do admit that I am a sucker for those cheap-ass Mrs. Callender’s chicken pot pies—add a salad, and there you go! And always cook them in the oven, not the microwave or else they aren’t as good. I also sprinkle Parmesan cheese, or feta, or blue cheese, on top of the pie when there’s about five minutes to go—it makes it seem a little more Home-Madey and gives it a nice fatty-yummyness. Once I stirred in brown rice—nah, took away the pot-pie-ed-ness of it all.
I do not like to waste food—not that I ever did before, but even more so now with a tight budget of One, I want to purchase and prepare and eat only what I am able to, and waste not want not as the old cliché goes—a cliché becomes a cliché for a reason, y’all! So this often has me preparing strange conglomerates of ingredients. It often has me throwing bits and pieces into a stir-fry or salad and then just shoving the mess in my mouth and chewing and swallowing until I am done.
I’ve thrown fruit on salad, and the “dressing” is often only an infused vinegar and a little olive oil, but sometimes I will be, um, “creative” and stir together yogurt, honey-mustard or other kind of mustard, pepper and salt, whisk that together, and though it looks like vomitus, it’s rather tasty.
Salads are a good way to have a summer cool meal, but make sure you have some protein on there. I add nuts, seeds, and often I use vegetarian “meat” replacement, or real meat, or eggs. Cheese and the olive oil also adds some fat and flavor. I’m not a crouton kind of person but sometimes I’ll eat my salad with tortillas, and rarely but occasionally crackers. I’ve even tossed the last of the bag of Dorito-dust on my salad—though I very rarely purchase empty-caloried chips and crackers.
Sometimes the food looks appetizing and yummy, and sometimes this Experimentation means the food looks like dawg vomit. I threw into this stir fry some raspberries that were just at the edge—one more day and they’d be too mushy to eat. And I ate it with gusto!, because: waste not want not! Really, it was rather tasty! I promise.
I cook up a big pot of brown rice—brown rice is better for you. Yes it is! Suck it up and eat it!—and portion it out in individual freezer-safe containers so I’ll have brown rice on hand. You can add it to canned soups so they’ll be more nutritious, but not to Mrs. Callender’s pot pies—no no! Or to the stir fry. Or beans and rice. Sometimes I’ll throw the brown rice in a skillet and then add a couple of eggs and stir that around—quick protein—wheee!
A quick “stir-fry” idea is: add a little olive oil to a skillet, and at this point if you are using chicken or other meat you want to sear and cook that now; otherwise, if the meat is cooked or you are going “vegetarian,” toss in bell-pepper (I purchase bell peppers and immediately wash and slice them up and store them in the freezer—they freeze very well), onion and garlic if you like it (I also freeze my chopped onions, but I purchase the jar of minced garlic—just works better for me), and sauté this until the peppers are a bit “wilted” but still have a little crunch (or not, for if you are like me, you half burn them because you become distracted—ungh!). Add in the brown rice, meat or fake meat if you want, and any seasonings you like, (I also squeezed half a grapefruit I needed to eat), and DONE! Voila! Dinner in a flash!
One night I threw together oatmeal, yogurt, a little cream and water, dried fruit, cinnamon, honey, stirred, and refrigerated overnight and had a nutritious breakfast before my hike. It was pretty danged good. But the next time, it turned out a gloopy gloppy pasty mess—and I ate it for supper while I worked on an editing job, and for dessert I had a peanut butter and jam sandwich—urp. Waste not want not.
I have really great “palate” instincts—I have been told I’m good at flavors, mixing flavors, finding unique and tasty flavors. I have the ability to be a Good Cook. But I am not. I often burn things because I’m in a hurry and turn up the heat too high, or become distracted by a shiny thing. I will start out with a yummy thought like these gorgonzola cheese sprinkled on top of corn tortillas with a drizzle of honey: what would have been delicious is instead burnt, but I ate them anyway *see want not waste not.* Not bad—urpity.
You know what the difference is between a good cook and someone who cooks? Patience and Love. I have neither but especially I do not when I am not a Near Companion to anyone. When I’m the asteroid who flew off and away into the galaxy or beyond, I Throw Shit Together and Hope for the Best. Sometimes it turns out fabulous, and other times I have Dawg Vomitus or Gloopy Glopped Messes or Burnt Tortillas or eat Mrs. Callenders pot pies. Mostly, I am bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. And when I am Bored, I experiment, and when I experiment, I have to eat what I prepared, even if it sucks.
I will tell you this: do not eat over the sink or even while working (though sometimes it must be done) or out of the pot! No no! Prepare your gloppy gloop or your burnt food or your surprisingly tasty dawg vomitus and ladle/spoon/fork it onto a plate or bowl and grab your silverware and a napkin and Eat Civilized, my friends. Eat Civilized.
By the way—I took this coffee grinder and instead use it to grind pepper, or salt. And I add things to the mix. Even coffee! Coffee salts, coffee peppers—really quite good. If you are by yourself, you don’t have to worry, because if you mess it up, no one will know, right? Right!
So, my good friends—what do you prepare for a One? Or a Near Companion? How do you navigate your kitchen? How do you shop for food for one so you don’t “waste not want not?” I need ideas, recipes, thoughts!
Update on my post below about Alcohol: I had nothing to be concerned about after all! I am happy to report that I’ve not missed my daily fancy craft beer or my wine one bit. I thought I would. I worried I would. I was terrified I would. But, I do not. Never looked back. Feel great. Lost a couple of bloaty pounds by not imbibing. It seemed it was more a habit and boredom than anything else. This proves something important to me. I will continue not to Drink Alone, for I think that is best. But I am very happy and optimistic that I can return to my many many years of Social Drinking. Can I get a WHOOHOO! Y’all!
TIP OF THE DAY! I have a self-cleaning oven and it works great for the oven
part, but my glass door always looked gross. I’ve scrubbed to no avail.
Eleven years of frustration remedied in about 20 minutes. Hot Dang! Open oven door and carefully poor water you’ve boiled (I was boiling eggs so I used that water-ha!). Be careful! Lay paper towels over the hot water and let soak 5-10 minutes, adding a little more hot water about halfway through. I went the entire 10 minutes. Wipe up the water. Cover the window with salt, and then scrub. Wipe up the mess with a damp cloth. Dry. Though she didn’t say to, I then used a Clorox Wipe to shine it and then a paper towel to buff. Try it!
Karen, please contact me via email or FACEBOOK or in the comments here.
Also note that in the future I will be adding names to the drawing from any comments or “likes” not only here on my blog but on Facebook as well.
Next drawing is for something you can’t buy at a store. Details later
If you like Southern/Appalachian/Family Saga fiction (sometimes with a supernatural touch), then I hope you will consider one of my novels (or short story “snacks”) by clicking on this link to my Amazon Page. I appreciate your support!
Welp, did y’all think I wasn’t going to come back to this here blog? Nah. I’d never desert it. However, this here’s what I believe: you can be a good writer but that doesn’t mean you can keep up a good blog with tantalizing posts and goldenfire words that draw people by the hundreds–hell, I’m lucky if I draw people by the tens *haw haw!* Same goes for books – you can kick the ass of writing to whoopeetown and back, but if’n you ain’t got a story, then all you have is a bunch of well-written words strunged together–what? strunged ain’t a word? It is now — haw!
So, while I have a good ole time on my Facebook page (and it’s a regular ole Facebook page and not one of those “like” thangs so come join in), I’m not as blabbity here. There are so many other blogs out there that are kick ass and where the blog writer knows just what to do to make it shine. I learned how to tell a story in my novels and am doing pretty well in that regard with my readers (y’all are big ass buckets of awesome!), but I still haven’t learned how to take a blog and make it kick ass. Dang! I’ll leave that to the Blog People on High.
So have you been working out? If you are shaking your head no, then come here. Come.Here. Closer. Cloooosssseerr. CLOOOOOSSSEERR. *FWAP!* that’s me smacking you upside your head! Get your ass out there and get moving! I ain’t play’n! And same goes for writing. I don’t want to hear no excuses. Shut up. Excuses piss me off. Yeah. Now, come here. Come.Here. Cloooseerr. Naw, I ain’t going to smack you again! I just was going to plant a kiss where I smacked you, cause I’m sweet like that *MUWAH* I know you like it.
If you are looking for some good heart-pumping music, I am suggesting the 50 Techno Trance Anthems collections. I have three of the volumes and am quite pleased with them. Most have that beginning that starts you off, then builds you to a frenzy, then pulls back a bit, and then WHUPOWS! you again–great for interval training, for which I strongly suggest you try.
I don’t listen to music while writing, so it’s up to you if you use this music for that. But it’s good for traveling, too, or cleaning the house. These are the three I have – you can purchase them from iTunes for your iPod or shuffle, or from Amazon as MP3 or whatever.
Get moving. Get Writing. Stop whining. Stop complaining. Okay, you can whine and complain sometimes–I know I do!–but if’n you are doing that and not accomplishing shit for shinola, then it’s time to take stock.
There’s been a lot of talk lately about eating disorders in women over fifty. Well, I would guess that while there are some women who are dealing with this issue for the first time, there are an awful lot more of us who have had eating disordered thinking most of our lives and have just hid it really very well or have had it under control. Then, according to what is going on in our lives, the eating disordered thinking may rear up its ugly head right as we think we are at our most confident and powerful: in our fifties, the time of our lives when we are feeling the most kickass, when we don’t care what people think, when we say what we want and live how we want. Imagine our surprise when eating disordered thinking sneaks up and bites us on the ass. What? Me? Wait a minute now! I’m not that teenaged girl any longer. I’m not that mixed up frightened little thing. I’m strong. I’m sexy. I’m ready to take on the world.
What the hell is going on?
The “experts” will tell you and/or your family and friends to watch out for these signs:
‘. . . there are signs to look out for that may indicate someone has an eating disorder. These include: precipitous weight loss or low weight; withdrawing from family, partner and friends; evidence of binge eating or purging; extremely low self-esteem and body esteem; not eating with the family; avoiding events where there is food.” (Taken from HealthDay by Steven Reinberg)
Sure, those things are true for a certain group of women—but not for us! We aren’t like that. We’re out enjoying life. We’re reaching long-hoped for goals. We’re walking with our head up and eyes forward. We are feeling sexual power. We are power. If you looked at us, you’d see a woman who is in pretty good shape–not too thin at all. We may look pretty danged good “for our age” – hell, maybe for any age.
But there is the sneaky hidden eating disordered behavior that no one may ever know.
We’re told that eating disorder in aging women is because “fifty is the new thirty; seventy is the new fifty,” and yes there may be some truth to that, for some women. Not us! We have taken care of ourselves; we feel awesome; we feel sexier than ever; we will be kickass well into very-old-agedom. We are not our grandmothers kind of grandmothers. We strut. We look back over our shoulder and say, “Yeah, you think you can handle this much woman? I dare you to try.”
Though it doesn’t start out that way, it quickly becomes about Control. Think about it: what else is completely under your control? Since the time you become aware that you could tell your mommy, “No! Don’t want it!” you have been able to control what goes into your mouth. And what goes into your mouth, or not, has the side effect of affecting your body size—a double whammy of Control. While the outside world can twirl about you; while people—your boss, your spouse, your parents, your friends, your editor, your colleagues, a stranger on the street—take their pieces of you; well, by golly gee, they can’t force you to eat! They can’t dictate what your body looks like! As your body changes, your power grows. Look at you! Control! Control! It’s both as simplistic and as complicated as all that. Even if you don’t really believe that’s what it’s all about, this is a truth that must be explored.
What you really tell yourself is, “I like myself like this.” And you do. To a point. But the toll must be paid. Tolls always must be paid.
Sure, our aging bodies can frighten us a bit, and it isn’t only about what we look like, but thoughts about our mortality. Our grandparents die; our parents are nearer to death or they do die—we are next in line. Every line or wrinkle is another sign that life is heading towards death. And not just physical death, but what about the death of dreams? Or desires? Or what about the death of health? Or good looks? Or time to do the things we want to do? And there’s nothing you can do about growing older, kiddies. It’s a fact of life, growing old, and then death. And when we arrive at Very Old, will we look like ourselves? A fear is: We don’t want to look like someone we don’t recognize. We don’t mind becoming older, just let us look like US! Don’t let our face and body melt into a stranger’s face/body. We want to be able to look into a mirror and see the person we have always been. To recognize our faces as ours.
I suppose for some, gaining weight would mean we do not look like ourselves.
Oh, it’s heady powerful stuff. As the scales lower, there is that thrill—look what I have done! Look at the control I have! I am powerful! I can plan, plot, quirk my food and my body into whatever I want it to be, just by my own strong free will, by will-power.
Will. Power. WillPower.
For many of us in the fringes, it never reaches the anorexic stage, or the bulimic stage, the binge and purge stage. The “under weight” stage. We find that stuff distasteful. Yuck. They aren’t In Control. We are! We find the sweet spot of Control just at that edge, just at that spot where people would never know the struggle we are going through. We still are within our healthy BMI; we still eat—we don’t avoid food situations, and in fact, may embrace them, for we can eat whatever and how much ever we want, for tomorrow is another day where we’ll just eat less to make up for it. Ha! Fooled up, sumbitches! We don’t binge and purge—gross! That’s for the “crazy ones.” We don’t starve ourselves into emaciation—why, that’s for those obsessive whiners. Give us some credit, whydontcha. We walk that fine line of eating enough while still maintaining our control. We exercise and we eat healthfully, but we also know how to manipulate food just enough. Just enough.
We are many times highly intelligent and highly motivated and goal driven women–and for some of us, people don’t see this in us, so we give them what they want: A perfect sexy body they can objectify. Then while we have their attention, we kick their ass with our smarts and our insights. WHUPOW! Gotcha! Suck on that!
The danger comes when the weight drops lower than you meant for it to. Oh oh. You tell yourself you won’t go any further. You tell yourself you’ll gain back a few pounds. You tell yourself this, but by then the Control Demon has its claws in you and you must tread carefully now. You don’t want to be one of THEM. You put on muscle, eat more protein, find ways to walk that fine line of “healthy but thin.”
It isn’t always about what we look like—for really, there isn’t a true concept of “what we look like,” for when we look into the mirror, we do not see what everyone else sees–no one really does, it’s just for us, the body dysmorphia is more acute. And, honestly, one day we may feel quite good about ourselves, fit and thin and wonderful, and the very next day we may feel willy nilly bound; oh my god oh my god am I gaining weight(losing control/losing will.power)?
If someone would hear us say, “Oh my god! I’ve gained two pounds,” they may roll their eyes and say, “Get over yourself! Two pounds! Get real!” But what they may not understand is that it is not the two pounds itself that is the problem—it’s the fear of careening out of control. Two pounds leads to three and then four and then six and then ten and where does it stop? If we are not vigilant, two pounds becomes more and more and more, and what if we can’t stop it? What if we gain and gain and gain and gain and gain . . . No! Must.Gain.Control. We do not like the out of control feeling and it must be Stopped.
Because we are better than that. We are too powerful to let something have control of us!
People who do not struggle with eating disordered thinking would see that two pound gain as a shrug in their lives. People with eating disordered thinking sees that two pounds as weakness. Are youweak! No! Get back on the program! NOW! Do not relax! Vigilance! You are stronger than this! You can beat this! And when the two pounds releases out into the air and off your body, it’s almost sexual, an orgasmic thrill. Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, oh god yes.
There are many thrills to the eating disordered life. That’s why it’s so powerful. We may start out only trying to lose a few needed pounds. Perhaps we’ve been going through our lives and step on the scales one day and go, “Oh oh. You have let yourself go. You idiot!” We really mean it when we tell ourselves we will lose those extra pounds and be happy with that. People notice, and we feel better, yes. Good. Done. But . . . wait. Hold up. The little voice cajoles, “Lose a couple extra, just in case. That way, you’ll have a cushion! You can relax some. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” Hey, that does sound great! So you lose a couple more pounds. The compliments rise, and you feel even better.
There comes the thrill of seeing the scales bow to your power, to your will. You are kicking the ass of those scales. You are In Control. Yeah! WILL.POWER!
You lose a couple more, maybe even accidentally. You think, why not? Your clothes are fitting looser. You feel lighter. Your body is buoyant! Your body can do things it couldn’t do before–move in ways it couldn’t, bend in ways it couldn’t, exercise in ways it couldn’t, have sex in ways it couldn’t; it is pleasing, pleasurable, giddy, heady.
When you lie down at night, your stomach is flat and you can feel your hip bones—and this becomes one of your litmus tests. If you lie down and can’t feel that slight concave belly and those hip bones, then You Are Out Of Control! Oh oh. You begin to like the way you can feel some of your bones under your skin, not hidden by layers of fat, no, but right there, so beautiful, the body is so very beautiful. Your body is beautiful. The curves and knobs and sharp planes and muscles that you manipulate with your hand. Your partner slides his hand along your body and you hum and shimmer–he can feel it, too. You still have enough body fat to be curvy and soft, but you’ve lost enough that as you explore your body, as he does, you/he feel all the new nuances of it. Your ribs, your hipbones, your collar bones, the tiny waist, the lean muscle. Your cheekbones ride higher and you think maybe it makes you look more knowing; there, those cheekbones below your big dark eyes full of deep dark secrets.
When you work out, your body is light and airy-air-borne. It flies over the treadmill, as if your bones are hollow, yet they are hard as a boulder, unbreakable. You are unbreakable! You feel strong, competent, powerful. People begin complimenting you more and more. Men stare appreciatively, and even younger men wink at you, tell you that you look hot.
You feel a sexual thrill you have never felt before–they are under your control now, helpless–who’s the little bee-otch now, huh? I am in control; you are in my control.
Your clothes skim your body, rubbing against your skin, nothing spilling over, no binding. You could almost float, so light you are!
And meanwhile, (practically) no one is the wiser. No one knows your obsessive thoughts about food and weight. No one knows the fear and anxiety. No one knows your need for control. No one knows that sometimes you go to bed hungry because you “lost control” and ate too much earlier that day or the day before. No one knows how you don’t know if you ate enough that day and because you do not want to become One Of Them, one of The Crazies, you force yourself to eat more the next day.
No one knows that hunger, your growling belly, is so fucking scary, for it means two things: you need to eat, your need to eat.
No one knows that every time you step on the scales you tell yourself not to be happy if you’ve lost weight and not to be sad if you’ve gained weight. Then, if you’ve gained weight, you try to calm the out of control feelings. If you’ve lost weight, you try to calm the tiny little thrill that shimmers up your spine.
In my post I linked to above, I listed how my weight began to drop, and my feelings about it at the time. And now? . . . No, I did not gain back to 120; no I did not stay at 116. Yes, I am stable where I am now, and I must be, because I will not be one of Them.
I am Will.Power. Stand back. Get out of my way.
Don’t get too close now . . . . that’s right.
Control. Power. Isn’t it ironic? Because, really . . . yes. That’s right. You got it. We are so good at justification. We are so smart. We are so stupidly smart.
There are times I’m doing my treadmill aerobic dance (flailing about in a jittery wild ass KAPOWIE not caring if I look like an idiot) and my heart rate climbs, I’m sweating, my legs beg me to stop, my breath is one big pant pant pant–but I don’t stop, not yet. I keep going until the song is over–even the seven minute long techno music (previous post) that tries to kick my ass to Kingdom Come. I allow a little bit of a “cool down” to let my heart rate slow a bit, and then I HIT THAT THANG again–*sound of whip cracking across my ass. Oh it hurts soooo goooood.*
Is it easy? Hells-no. And that’s what makes it worthwhile. That’s what makes it heart-pumping YEEHAW! That’s what makes me feel on top of the world!
Who the hell said things were supposed to be easy? Doing what’s difficult and kick-ass is what brings about results. Do you want results? What are they? Be specific:
I want to fit into a pair of skinny jeans and f**k me pumps and to be able to wear them with a fitted shirt without “muffin top” or belly bulge–and why couldn’t I do that in my fifties? What was stopping me from my goal? Not a goddamn thing but my own self thinking “But I’m 55!” So what? (of course, as I always tell you–you must see your doctor in case there are physical limitations); I want to feel better and what does “feel better” mean?– to be able to hike the mountains, be stronger well into my 60s 70s 80s and beyond, to have good blood pressure and pulse, for the doctor to say “You are in great shape, don’t come back until next year;” I want sexual power; I want to look good in my clothes, yes, but also for them to feel good on my body; I need help with stress (lawdy yes); etc etc etc.
Don’t just say, “I want to be in shape/be healthy.” What does that mean? I dunno. What does “in shape/be healthy” mean for you? The more specific you are with your goals, the more you will keep your eye on that “prize.” And the fewer times you can use excuses like, “I don’t wanna.” Yeah well, Get your ass to work anyway! Why? Cause I said so that’s why! What in hell are you waiting for? Miracles? Someone to take you by the hand and pull you there kicking and screaming? Ain’t you worth it? I know I am. So, in a month, six months, a year from now, will you be making the same goddamn excuses then as you are now? Uh huh. Check back in a month, six months, a year, and let’s see what you did with your time. Huhn.
I believe in you; so why don’t you believe in yourself?
I recognize that not everyone is going to love working out like I do–I am one of those people who actually looks forward to it and if I miss, I am not worth a crap. But how do you know you won’t be like me? How do you know you won’t begin to enjoy. Show up. Do the work. Find your joy.
I feel this way about the writing, too. Until I don’t. Lawd. Then I look for the magic again until I find it.
Writers: this goes out to you, too. Sometimes this job is hard. Sometimes it kicks our ass but good. Are you gonna give up? Are you gonna stop when things are a little hard? Get your kickass on and stop whining and crying and carrying on about how difficult this business is. Shit, I know that–I’ve done my own crying and whining, until I decided I was sick of myself crying and whining. Instead, I went back to work. That’s what we do–we show up; we work hard; we don’t give up.
We aren’t always going to have exactly what we want from this business–but we can kick ass trying, y’all! We can do the best goddamn job we can and let the rest work itself out how it will. We can be proud of what we’ve accomplished–it isn’t all about what you may think it’s about. Maybe, just maybe, it really is all about the work, the thing that makes you show up every day, the thing that gives you joy, and all the rest is just icing on an already iced cake.
When things are difficult, push on. You’ll learn when you truly have reached your “end,” where you know you can’t do or give any more than you are–and then maybe, just maybe, you can push it a little farther/further.
Work-out Music of the day: Benny Benassi – Satisfaction
There are some people who can trace their family line back to some little city in some little country way on back. There are some who can trace their family line at least back to a Great Great Grandmother or Grandfather. We could leave it alone, for who they are, or were, is not who we are, right? Well, the actions and beliefs and diets and places that shaped our past relatives led to who we are—with each generation tweaking and refining in one way or another, for “good or for bad,” however you will look at this, and look at it you must, so that your decisions can alter to what is healthful in mind, body, environment, for our children and their children and all those who follow.
In the “evolutionary” (genes) process, there are many things at work to shape who we are mentally and physically, and ideally and spiritually. Why would you only have that dark dark hair from your Great Grandpa Joe? Maybe Great Grandpa Joe passed along some wonky kidneys or pancreas, too, and his fear of spiders? Hey, maybe his Grandma Mary got it from her Great Great Grandma or pa, and on and on and on. We say, “My grandmother died of heart disease, and my father has a bad ticker, so I’m going to exercise and eat healthfully so I will live longer and stronger. . . . ” Then either we do this, or we don’t, and life either goes on or it doesn’t, a change is inspired, or not.
If you explore your past and still ignore it, then why bother to know at all?
We can look back to see what mistakes have been made and learn from them, right? Right? On many different levels, not just of which are our health, but of survival of the species and our planet, right? Right? We take a thought, an idea, and we roll it around in our head, and then we make action from that thought or idea . . . how wonderful our minds and bodies are! But, how responsible it makes us for so much more than a cat’s or dog’s or pig’s or a frog’s thought processes would be responsible – for they can’t articulate for change as we can. A tree, a river, a rock – can they create from an idea? Seems we have the run of the place when it comes to that! ha! Well! Huhn.
I can decide. I have choices. With the brain and thought processes we have been gifted with comes responsibility to use them to affect some change for the “Greater Good,” right? For survival of the species and of our planet and its other species . . . Right? For our own bodies/minds, and our children’s bodies/minds?
What we pass to our children and they to theirs and they to theirs and they to theirs can often be changed by Choice, Action—and what will people look like and act like 100 years from now? And what will their kidneys and pancreases look like? What will our environment look like? Will we have learned how to protect what needs protecting? Our children. Our Land. Our physical bodies. Our Waters—better protect that water, my friends . . .
Better. Protect. Our. Water.
Somewhere long ago the journey to you and to me began shaping our attitudes towards our bodies and minds. Somewhere long ago It Began for Us, and then time and time and time passed, and like branches on a very strange and giant family tree, or trees, we began to split and grow out in different directions. The roots go down and spread as well – tangled and deep, too tangled and deep to follow, but beautiful and fascinating and uniquely the same.
He scratched his belly. The strange rumble there itched and pulled and ached. It was time to fill the emptiness. Behind him, crouched under a shrub, was his mate. Her belly was swollen, round and hard. He turned to her and they made eye contact. She touched her belly, rubbed it in circles. Her itching and pulling and aching had been different since the swelling. He knew this because she needed more to fill it. He knew it too from her grunts and sighs, the way she would not lay still beside him as she used to, but move move and move.
He sniffed the air. Up ahead there was both food and danger. Leaving his mate behind, he moved quietly across the hot dirt. He knew it would be harder doing this alone, but his mate was too heavy, too slow and clumsy to be of help. He scratched his belly again. An awareness pushed, and he touched his head. Something captured there, then gone. He stilled and waited, for he knew if he rushed headlong, he would become the meal, instead of finding one. The pushing awareness returned, and his eyes opened wider, became brighter. He ignored the emptiness and backtracked, sniffing the air, looking for footprints – like his own. One wasn’t enough. Two was better. There was another like him without the swollen belly. Another like him in other ways, too.
Over the hard earth, he ran to find the other who is like he is—one wasn’t enough, two was better, mate could not, other one like him could. Other one like him had a mate with swollen belly. One alone, no food—together, better to find food. The pushing eased, his belly empty would soon be filled. His first idea. His first awareness of seeing outside of himself to More.
Work-out: In my personal trainer days, I used to tell clients to “listen to their bodies” to let them know how much they could do. I now recognize how this isn’t always the case. Sometimes our bodies/minds want to fool us, because it is Hard and we don’t always like Hard. If we give up because something is difficult, then nothing great is ever accomplished. Something pushing through the hard stuff rejuvenates, takes us places we never thought we’d go. We become stronger with every hurtle we sail over–even if we smash into a few hurtles along the way and break a leg–haw! Okay, maybe we don’t wanna do that, but I certainly have sported quite a danged few bruises–my badges of Badness, yeah!
On the flipside of that: if you are over-working hoping for an over-night miracle, stop the hell doing that. Along with our hard work comes a dose of reality: it takes time to develop a strong and healthy body, especially if we’ve been sitting on our asses waiting for it to magically happen for us. Lawd y’all, and please stop listening to those infomercials–they lie. I know! Hard to believe our faithful televisions sometimes spout lies! Whadya know . . . huhn.
Writers: Working hard and not expecting an “over-night success” applies to our writing lives, as well. Sure does, uh huh! You can talk about it, or whine about it, or hope about it, or you can sit your ass down and do it. Ain’t no magic.
Work-out: Sometimes we want some chocolate(or pick your “poison”), dammit. Sometimes we wanna sit on our asses and do nothing but eat crap and feel depressed and not do a danged ole thing. Some days everything feels sucky. “I can’t run a maratttthooonnnn.” “I’m tired of not eating what I waaaant toooooo any time I want tooo.” Well, y’allses, when we sit on our asses and gobble down an entire box of chocolates or ten ton plate of pasta or Big Mac and fries and shake and fried apple pie, feeling sorry for ourselves and the state of Everything, welp, what happens is we feel even worse than before—inside and out. Our bodies will be bloated and sick from Crap Overload.
Better to treat ourselves to just a few pieces of that chocolate(or whatever), savoring every bite and feeling happy. Better to eat 80-90 percent Well/Healthy, and 10-20 percent Crap. Yeah, that’s easier to swallow, right? If you know you can eat, say, 10% to 20% or so of crap, the rest of the 80% to 90% is not so hard to swallow, right? riiiggghht. Cause it’s going to take you to a better body and mind and heart and guts and veins and lungs and heretoforwith so let it be written so let it be done.
Writers: Received another rejection? Feeling like shit? Well, you gonna lie back and let that suck you into the dark abyss of depression/over-eating/over-drinking, or you gonna get back up and try again? Try 10-20% whining and crying and then get back to the 80-90% work.
Work-out: It’s fruitless and stupid to compare ourselves to Any One Out There: say that loud and say it again and again and again and ever more again: Don’t compare yourself to others. Carve your own path. And, geez, you don’t know who is comparing themselves to You and wishing they had what you had: just say’n’!
Writer: Above, redux. Yeah.
Work-out: Getting in shape/staying in shape and eating healthfully isn’t always easy, but once there, the feeling is like no other. A strong healthy body will take you into the minutes, days, months, years of your lives, and not in some half-assed way, but in Kick Ass way! Don’t you want to be in this life for the long-haul, and not just “in” this life, but fully immersed? Then do it. Excuses are just that, and they’re boring and fruitless, and get you No Where. You ain’t foolin’ no one but yourself—nuh uh. Find your truths and learn to ignore your sneaky excuses/justifications–and they can be sneaky.
Writer: This business isn’t always easy, but ask yourself: Is this what I really want to do? Am I ready to be in this for the long-haul? Do I love writing more than my right arm? Am I ready to sacrifice? Can I handle the rejection without breaking up and breaking down? Sometimes this is the easiest best job in the entire danged ole world, and other times it sucks like a big fat suckity sucky britches—but I for one know I love it more than my right arm and have, and will, sacrifice for it.
Work-out: At the end of a grueling work-out session, find time to stretch those muscles, and then just as important as the work-out and the stretch comes the quiet moment of reflection. Time and distance from wants and needs will lift us away as we respect our bodies, minds, hearts.
Writer: When the writing day is done, find a moment to reflect on this writing life. Calm the voices, the rejections, the expectations, the harried hurry and the long-ass frustrating waits, and remember just why you love this life so much. The raw beginnings of it, when it was just you and a white space of whatever in the world you wanted to say to anyone who would listen, even if it was only your own ears. Find that joy in quiet reflection.
Work-out: Night comes. Time to rest the body. Rest is as important as movement. A good night’s sleep prepares you for the next day’s challenge. Let go and sleep sleep. Be grateful for the body that carries you from day to day. Keep it healthy and strong and then give it rest.
Finally, give yourself a big ole break, okay? Really, there isn’t a one of us who can tell you how to do this work-out life or this writing life and why and how much and for how long—only you have that power within you. Relax. It’ll all be okay. Your journey will not be mine and mine will not be hers his yours. Calm. Calm.
(Portions of this post were posted in another post when I posted about a post about a post similar to this post when I posted while not feeling kickass because GMR gave me his germs and for once I didn’t fight then off, so this post is sorta like another post, which posted the post of posty posted post, most post-like. And do you know how hard it is for me to admit I caught some flu-like illness from GMR? Me? Mrs. McToughass Britches? Yeah, I’m pissed, and humbled, and all ARGHY, and achy! Even the kickass are knocked back sometimes. Post ya later!)
[Disclaiming exclamation to my son, brothers, and mom: Dang, sorry if y’all blush at that above, or the other thang I’ma going to say later in this post (No. 4), or the cussin’ – dang.]
When you think you are sick—I mean really sick, like possibly Cancer Sick, the world takes on this kind of slow-motion aching acute weirdness. Now let me clear up right now that I am not sick (in body-haw! – my mind is a whole other issue) and I do not have cancer, and in fact, I am in solid, good, disgustingly great danged ole health. But over the last few weeks, well . . . I thought maybe my time had come, even though it made no sense to me.
I thought it was that time. You know, the time where the doc looks at me with pity and shakes his head, while I sit there stoic and wide-eyed, and as I walk out of the doc’s office, the nurses are shaking their heads, “. . . and she was one of the HEALTHY ones! Why, if she’s sick, then none of us has a chance!” Fade out, on to funereal scene where my ashes fly in an arc into the air as my friends and family shake their heads and . . . um . . . anyway . . .
The entire thing mimicked a sitcom—the comedy or dramady—where misunderstandings, miscommunications, mistakes, missed calls and strange cryptic messages, all conspired for a perfect storm of discombobulation that led me to be convinced that Something Bad Was Wrong With Me.
It’s funny how our mind works, how it expands to take in what is complete bullshit but at the time doesn’t feel like bullshit at all—it feels Real. How like the clichéd snowball negative dark thoughts can be, flying down the hill as it grows bigger and bigger–it becomes The Blob, devouring all rational thought.
And even though I told myself how healthy and Kick Ass I have been feeling, it seemed at every turn there was a show or magazine article about some woman who was “So healthy and vibrant!” and then it turned out some weird amoebic cell with grave intent was hiding in there allllll aloooong, just waiting to cut her down in her prime!, and without her even realizing it! Dang!
I thought about how arrogant I am about my health—I’m one lucky bitch when it comes to being strong and healthy. I have relatively few complaints, and am in great shape. Yet, my snowball thoughts careened over how strong and healthy and stubborn and willful and determined and sometimes really stupid I am—stupid as in ignoring injuries, or ignoring symptoms if it means I can’t get out there and do whatever the hell I want to do. The negative-dirty-snowball flew by screaming, “Yeah, that’s the person who gets sick and doesn’t know it! The one who walks around all cocky in her health! You gonna DIE! YOU ARE FUCKED!”
Well, sheee-iiit, of course I am going to die one day. When or how is a secret no one (yet) knows and that’s fine by me. Thank gawd I can laugh about it now, yeah. Beats walking around in a fog of “Oh crap. I ain’t ready to go. I need to finish this novel. I have to clean out my closet. I need to go see my granddaughter. I just grew out my hair and what if I lose it? (Yeah, I really did think that—omg, how vain! *snark*).”
But you know what? I didn’t think, “Whyyy meeee!” I thought, “Well, why not me?” I mean, it’s not about being brave or being tough when you face something head on and butt it like an old stanky goat. It’s about “That’s just life. We live and then one day we die, and sometimes really sucky shit happens and people die sooner than others, too soon, achingly soon, heart-breakingly soon, devastatingly soon.” No one is more privileged than someone else. No one is more special than someone else. No one gets a pass from the You Are Fucked arena, because sooner or later something comes along to end it all. Yeah, don’t most of us hope to “end it all” when we’re very old and lying in bed with a sweet smile. But, if not, then whatchoo gonna do? And I can say with certainty that way better people have gone before me, and some way too soon.
Whenever I’d have thoughts of some bucket list (and I never wrote one of those, just never have), I thought I’d want to travel abroad and do all this cool stuff like jump out of airplanes and white-water rafting while shouting “WHEEEEEEEEE! I’m still alive (for now)!”
But guess what? Nawp. Not so. My “last days” list was very very short, with one item that made me go “Really? Seriously?” and when I told GMR about No. 4, he looked at me as if to say, “Who is this woman I married?” Or maybe the look was “Can I watch?” haw!
Here’s my short list:
Spend time with my family and friends—lots of time, oodles of time, time of time of time itself.
Meet Ellen DeGeneres because she’s just a cool woman full of light and she’ll make me feel happy—and I don’t want a thing from her, not a thing but a hug (well, see no. 4 –haw!). I mean, is there anyone else so full of light and hope and love and sweet and support and encouragement and fun – and we could dance.
Find a spot in my woods and have one good cry and then suck it the hell up, because who wants to waste time crying when I have family and friends to spend time with.
Kiss a woman—and I didn’t mean on the cheek. I meant a “Katy Perry I kissed a girl and I liked it” kind of kiss. I’ve never kissed a woman that way, I thought to myself with a “Huhn, well.” I thought perhaps I could kill two birds with one pucker and kiss Ellen DeGeneres, if Portia didn’t mind. Haw! Yeah. Well. That’s what I thought.
That’s it. That’s my list. Oh sure, I thought how nice it’d be to travel a bit, have some gelato in Italy, or visit the Grand Canyon or Yellowstone, or have the Perfect Meal, or see the wilds of Alaska, or go to Canada, or Greece, or Spain, or Ireland, Scotland. But those hovered in the background, sort of a “If I had a lot of extra time and if family and friends could be with me while doing those things.”
I tell you what. When you finally sit in that doc’s office and find out how everything has been one big fuck-up and you are not “Sick” but instead A-danged-O.K., the sun shines brighter, the trees sway sweeter, the air enters your lungs and goes into your healthy body all Yippee! And there is such a feeling of gratitude for your health—because, you know there are so many who walk out of that doctor’s office with the news you thought you were going to hear and you fear for them, ache for them, but honestly you are so glad you are not one of them. At least not today. Not tomorrow. Probably not next week. So, yeah. Pass the YEEHAAAWS and the Hot Damns!
As for that list, well . . . huhn. Yeah. We’ll see. *grin*