Monday, December 21, 2009
I am reporting that I went BACK to WW this Saturday. Why would I do this so close to the Christmas? Why not just wait for the New Year and make that my resolution? Here is the thing, I just decided that I could not, once again, do that same clichéd act and make loosing weight my new year’s resolution. I can’t be in the crowded room again. I know that I might not loose a whole lot of weight, but I can promise myself that I will be more aware of what I am eating this week.
How successful I am this time around depends on me. I have to be super dedicated to this. I’m not quite ready to share how much I weigh, but it’s up there and its scary. Its hard to not think of the big (ha!) picture. That is, how many lbs I have to lose. It’s so overwhelming. I am actually in place where I have to loose half my body weight. God help me.
Like I said the other day, I shared my little blog with my Shrink. I wondered what he would think. Did he even read it? Did he think it was well written? Did he read all the entries? That’s my main thing with this blog. While yes, I started this and am doing this for myself, I am concerned about what people think of it. I struggle a lot with worrying about what people think. When I was writing on myspace, I feel like my blogs were funnier, more interesting somehow. I’m a little frustrated, that I am not feeling so inspired to write. Along that same thought, I’m thinking that I would like very much to take some kind of creative writing class. I’m trying to find something to cultivate or at least determine if there is any talent there. Anyway, when I saw him for our latest session, he thanked me for sharing it with him. He said it was painful. Painful. Painful? So now I’m wondering, what’s painful? Was it painful to read? (Cause it sucks?) I write what I write (when I write) as an outlet. Just to get it out. I’m not trying to be deep or express any kind of pain. I wonder if it’s coming across as whiney. I have to ask him.
I look at my father, my charming, life of the party Papi. Now with white hair, white beard, old man stoop, arthritic hands and a satchel full of heart medicine. Case in point, I had to zip up my dad’s jacket the other day. Talk about full circle. He used to zip up my jacket. We were in Target recently and I saw my dad shuffling ahead me. I went over and gave me him a push. Papi stand up straight, Papi pick up your feet. My ferocious father is slowing down. It makes me sad.
I look at my mother, my beautiful, oh so glamorous Mom. Who is developing fat pockets under her eyes, hopelessly; obviously dyed hair and random age spots. And just between you and me, she is become unbelievably annoying. Constantly asking me questions… April can you? April did you? April you should. April you shouldn’t. April why do you always… blah blah blah. The other day I swear I wanted to not only tell her to shut up…but I wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up. That’s never good.
I’ve taken to having to tell them how to dress. Papi- Why are you wearing the house slippers with socks OUTSIDE? Ummmm Mom? You are not, you know, Paris Hilton… you can’t wear the slip dress with no bra.
My parents used to go to Studio 54 and Copacabana. Now, it’s early bird specials and the matinee. Unbelievable.
I took my father to the doctor about a year ago, that was something.
Doctor: so Joel how long have you had this problem with your hands?
Dad: Oh about 6 months?
Me: Um excuse me? No… about 2 years now… at least
This went on and on for the entire visit. The Doctor asking him questions, him giving this fictious answer and me jumping in. My consensus is that now, someone has to go with him everytime he had a doctor’s visit. He can’t be trusted.
Forget about asking them for advice. I look at the way they have lived their lives and feel like they need just as much help as I do. They no longer have all the answers, I realized long ago that probably never did. Our parents are human, and therefore fallible. But it’s always such a let down to really realize it for the truth that it is.
I love my parents. And when the time comes I will take care of them, no doubt about it, and no questions asked. The issue is more that I don’t ever want them to need me to have to do it for them, because they can no longer do it for themselves.
I suppose it is inevitable.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Absolutely nothing new has been happening. Actually less than nothing has been going on. Went off my meds and back on again. I did start seeing a new therapist. Good looking out to a good new friend who turned me on to him. Therapy is important I think, and seems quite the New York thing to do. I’ve been in and out of therapy for years now, with varying degrees of success. Like most things in my life, I start and stop with an alarming regularity. That is, I usually stop when it gets to hard or uncomfortable. I’m hoping that I keep it up this time, because I know that I am in desperate need of help. And want nothing more than to stop living in the dark, bumping into things. [That’s what my life seems like to me] What I am hoping for this time is to come up with a plan of action. I want to find out why I do the things I do, and what I can do to change them.
This weekend I was supposed to go back to WW then spend the day at the library finishing up on some papers that are due this week. Epic, epic fail. What did I do instead? Well I met up with TG (That Guy) and spent the day in bed with him. As usual, it was great till it was awful. One day, I will get it in my head that this man is not the man for me and that spending days with him in bed, will never be the answer. It WAS nice though.
So why am I back? Not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I told my therapist about my blog. Why? Well, it stated off by me recounting a story about my cousin/sister who was a big track star while she was in HS and how it still bothered her that they never when to any of her games or meets. Which brought up for me that my parents never read anything I wrote when I was in HS. (I wrote for the paper and the yearbook) I then went on to tell him that I keep a half hearted blog under a pseudonym and that back when people had myspace pages, I kept one on myspace. I further explained that I started a new one, so that I my friends and family wouldn’t be able to follow. He then asked the address of my little blog. All of this propelled me to re read my entries and post this one.
There it is.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Money makes the world go around. The world go around. The world go around. Money makes the world go around. It makes the world go 'round. A mark, a yen, a buck, or a pound.A buck or a pound. A buck or a pound.Is all that makes the world go around, That clinking clanking sound. Can make the world go 'round. (Lyrics from the movie/play Cabaret)
I need money and I need it badly. I’ve never been good with money, not to blame my parents, but they were never good with money either. So I didn’t have a good model to follow. However, at this point in my life, I need to ante up and just figure out what my problem is and what I need to do to make it better.
Admitting that you have a problem is important right? So here I am admitting it. But what does one do, when one needs to get better at something. How do I fix this? A few weeks I go I was overdrawn in my account by over 500 dollars. I actually considered doing one of those payday loans. I didn’t do it, sucked it up and just did what I had to do, but still, I thought about it for a while.
I do participate in a type of savings program. Depending on where you hail, it’s called something different. In Haiti we call it a Mains. I’ve also heard it called Sou-Sou and Partner.
Well first, let me tell you what’s it’s not. It is not a pyramid or Ponzi scheme. You do not have to recruit anyone to get a payout. But it is important to note that the more people participate the larger your payout will be. It is a type of savings circle I guess.
How it works: Everyone who participates contributes the same amount of money each week or month for predetermined amount of time. It could last a month or a year. As I mentioned earlier, your payout depends on how many people participate in the circle. The most important thing about doing a Mains, is making sure that all the participants can be trusted. This savings circle is really popular with people from Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean. My mother did this for years and years, every time she wanted to save for something big. I have also participated from time to time, and have never ever not once had a problem. Assuming everyone in your mains can be trusted, everyone will benefit from large payout. I recall reading an article somewhere, like Time or Newsweek, which said that mains were possibly the answer to the economic crisis that we have found ourselves in.
The mains that I am participating in right now, has a payout of 11,000. The amount that you get depends on how much and how long you do it for. My contribution is 250 dollars per week. My “turn’ in getting the money is early next year, and we have been doing it since August 2009. It lasts about 50 or so weeks.
What’s my “big” thing? I am saving up for a down payment to an apt. I live with my family and hate it. Hate it more than you can imagine. At my age, living with my parents, is just embarrassing. Just embarrassing.
But besides saving up for the “big” thing, I just want to be better at saving money. Not spending every dime I have on silly things. Which I admit that I do a lot. I am such a work in progress.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
It’s been a long time. And the truth is that just haven’t had the energy. I absolutely loathe myself. I am huge. It is beyond me how I could allow myself to get to this point. I knew that I was fat. I mean I’ve BEEN fat. But lately I feel like I am really looking like a fat person, like that kind of fat person that people really look at. And God help me. My feet hurt. I have aches and pains like my body is too big to support its self. I got on the scale tonight. On my scale I weigh 280lbs. What do I do with myself? How can I fix this problem? And it is a problem. Why do I insist on stuffing my face so? I do it all the time. All. The time. Many times I eat till I am sick to my stomach.
A few months ago my mother came to me and said that she was having a party for her 60th birthday, I was full and I mean FULL of the dread. I didn’t want to go. I love my mom, but I didn’t want to sit on a plane (in seat that barely holds my fat ass and sucking in my breath to make the seat belt fit) and go and face my family. I don’t want anyone to see me. I don’t want to see myself. Call me paranoid, but I see them looking at me and feel them judging me. Really. We all know that they do. People look at people and make judgments. But at the end of the day, it’s Mom and I had to do it. So here I am. And yes, I AM wishing that I were someplace else. All because of something that I should be able to control.
I’ve been chatting lately with this woman I work with who also had a difficult time with food. She lost 108lbs, and has put on about 50 or so pounds. She and talked a lot about things we can do to make our lives not so much revolve around food. I do promise my self something. I get back home, I promise to change things. Yes, I am aware that I have said this type of thing before, however I have to keep making that promise to myself. I have to keep making that promise and hope that this time it will be THE time that it will work out. That will gather up all the tools that I need to be successful at this journey. This is the dragon that I want, need, to slay once and for all. I truly believe that my happiness, mental and physical health depend on it.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
“You think that I’d learn the cost of love. Paid that price long enough. But still I drive myself right through the pain. Yeah, well it turns out, I haven’t learned a thing. Sometimes I think I’m better off. To turn out the lights and close up shop. And give up the longing, believing in belonging. Just hold down my head and take the loss. You’d think that I’d learn my lesson by now. You’d think that I’d somehow figure out. That if you strike the match. You’re bound to feel the flame.”–Daughtry
So once upon a time, I feel in love with a bad boy. He actually wasn’t “bad” at all. The roughness that was on the outside was for show, to hide the soft side that I knew was there. He was hard on the outside and so soft, so I thought, on the inside. When he looked at me, I got weak. When he kissed me, I literally lost my breath. He made my head spin, my heart skip beats. Despite our differences, and there were many, I knew. I mean I knew with out a doubt in my mind, that this beautiful man [and he was, is, beautiful], was for me. We would love each other make babies, make a home and live a life.
There was catch though. I never said anything to him. I never, not once, placed a demand. I thought if I was quiet and asked for nothing. That he would just see how perfect I was for him. That he would look at me and think I was pretty; smart; loving; exactly what he needed. I did what he wanted. I loved him completely. Stood by him. He had troubles. He needed money, I gave it to him. He needed love, I gave it to him. He needed sex, I gave him that too. He ran away and I waited. Held my breath, counted the days and waited for him to come back. Always thinking hoping praying that he would come back, for me.
What we had, was never right. We had moments, months of bliss. Then weeks or months of silence. I dreamt of him, I knew when he was in trouble. I knew when he needed me. So when I dreamt of his new baby, I knew it was true. Even when he looked at me and told me it wasn’t true. But, I apologized. Fool that I am. I told him I was sorry for accusing him of being a liar. But even though I knew, I still wanted certainty. Certainty never came. But I kept having those dreams. Dream after dream about him and her and their baby. I can remember so clearly when I decided that I “knew” enough. I sat on the floor of my bedroom and cried until I was sick. Ate ice cream until I threw up. But instead of saying anything, I was quiet still. Still loving him. Still wanting him. Still loosing my breath. Still thinking that somehow, things would turn around for “us”. Still thinking that his kisses meant something. Still believing him when he told me he loved me. Wondering if it was something I did or didn’t do. Was I not smart? Was I too fat? Did he think that I was ugly? Did I not please him sexually? Was I not good enough. These are the questions that followed me around. Yet…
I love him still. What kind of person am I? What kind of woman loves a man who lies to her? I have continued to love this man, even though I know he created a child with a woman at a time when I thought we were together. I have adored this man even though he married this woman. I have stood by when he has hurt me, by saying to me that “if it hadn’t been her, it would have been you”. Just reading that back to myself makes me cringe.
We stole some moments not so long ago. As always it was a sad kind of joy for me. I love seeing him. I think the sex between us is amazing. Exciting. Satisfying. When he looks at me, my breath still catches, even though it’s not quite the same. He’s noticed and made comments. He says I’m not attracted to him or some such thing. That’s not it all. It’s only that after all this time, 8 years as a matter of fact, I’m tired. Tired of knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am never going to be first for him. Tired of knowing that the love between as never been equal or fair.
He’s not completely wrong. I do still adore him, but it IS different. And finally, I think I see the light at the end of this tunnel. It seems as though the end is in sight. I think that perhaps, I may, finally have had enough.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
I'm late with this...but I looked it over and thought I would post anyway. In case you were wondering. Food is not good. Not at all. Anyway... read away!
70’s icon Farrah Fawcett died after a long and difficult battle with cancer.
Music icon Michael Jackson died after a long a difficult battle with life.
It’s sad isn’t it? Farrah had friends and family who loved her and watched her suffer. They are no doubt going through a very difficult time. She was a mom, a daughter, a best friend and a life partner. She was beautiful and talented and seemed to epitomize this one period of time. When you think back to the 70’s Charlie's Angels is one of the things that you remember. Charlie’s Angles, Saturday Night Fever, Disco, and the beginning of the fitness craze. Farrah Fawcett had that hair and that amazing smile, she also had atomic nipples… (Which I never noticed until she died and people kept pointing it out)
Michael Jackson. What can one say about Mike? Icon. Superstar. Musical genius. Weirdo. Recluse. Freak. Songwriter. Entertainer. Father. Brother. Son. Friend. I remember being enamored of MJ. I had buttons. I had posters. I had records and tapes. I thought he was amazing. Keeping in mind that I didn’t know MJ, I probably knew more about him than I should know. Like what? Like his birthday, his favorite candy, where he was born etc. I knew all these things about him, with out the benefit of the Internet. This means that I went to the Library and took about books about MJ. This means that I purchased magazines about MJ. I made knowing about him my job. Then of course, I grew up and found other things to obsess about. Boys that I could actually meet and have a chance with. Other musicians. My nails. My hair. Myself.
So yes, it is sad that Fawcett and Jackson are gone. And I feel badly, in the most general way. Like oh wow, that’s messed up. But this display of raw emotion is beyond me. The people who are sitting Shiva, the people who are in mourning over two celebrities that they have never met. I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t get it. I don’t get it and I think it’s weird. I mean, why should I, go the Apollo theater and stand there. Holding vigil. What for? Why should I make special trip and go to Fawcett’s name on the Hollywood walk of fame and leave flowers by her name? What for? I’m sorry, did I know you? Where we friends? Did we have anything in common? No? Ok then… sorry that you are gone and God speed and all that, but I have laundry to do. Places to go. And my life to take care of. Does this make me terrible person? I feel a little guilty. Like maybe I should feel worse. This is actually something that I struggle with. Feeling badly, because I think that I should feel worse. (I’m catholic, I’m Haitian, and I’m a girl)
This crosses my mind everytime a celebrity dies. A celebrity. Not a relative. Not a world leader. Not a neighbor. Someone who entertained for a living. This is not to say that their life was not a worthwhile life. This is to point out that that sense of loss might be a little misplaced.
Should Ryan O’Neil be inconsolable? Yes. Why? He was her partner. They were together for 30 years. Of course his loss is beyond words.
Should the children of Michael Jackson be devastated? Of course. Why? Umm he was their DAD.
Should Pete Robertson (random guy I made up) of Brooklyn, NY who never met Mr. Jackson or Ms. Fawcett be weeping inconsolably? Ummm from my perspective? No.
But, who I am I to say what is appropriate or not in a case like this? Maybe I should be more understanding. Maybe I should be less Jugie McJugerson.
Monday, August 10, 2009
I know that I am dating myself, but when I was a kid, there was this show Chico and The Man [Chico was portrayed by Freddie Prinze, whose son is Freddie Prinze, Jr.] I don’t remember a whole lot of that show, I was two when it started and six when it went of the air, but what I do remember, besides the fact that it took place in a garage and the Chico lived in a Van in that Garage, especially was the catch phrase. “Looking Goooood!”
I saw this woman today on the subway and she was really Looking Goooood! Really pretty wrap-around dress, Dolce & Gabbana tote, Gucci accessories in said tote, [yeah I peeked] Louis Vuitton sunglasses perched on her head and tasteful diamond studs in her ears. [ I pratically have a fetish for sun glasses] She was wearing Fit Flops but you know that she had the right shoes some where in her tote, or under her desk. You can tell that she had been away recently; maybe today was her first day back, as she had a great tan. I wonder if what she would think if she knew that had taken such an inventory of what she had on this morning. Would she be proud? Scared [That I was a crazy stalker] Is she one of those woman who style comes together with out effort? Or does she work hard at it?
What does it mean to look good? Does it mean that you are a trendy up to date person? Or does it mean that you are a classic dresser? Does looking good just mean neat and clean? I remember working with someone who thought that clothes were silly, or I guess that fashion was silly. I was horrified. While I am no Miranda Priestly or Anna Wintour [I don’t have the time nor the budget] I try really hard to look nice everyday. I love fashion, clothes, makeup and accessories. Ever since I got the BC I have become obsessed with big giant earrings. I’ve always been a shoe person and bags are just pretty! I am a dedicated reader of Vogue and Allure.com magazines, I’m considering adding Bazaar Magazine as well. I like to think that I do a decent job of looking good. Actually I think I must. I get compliments often. Someone once told me that she looks forward to seeing what I have on everyday. That is gratifying. I remember when Love Of My Life (LOML) a/k/a That Guy (TG) looked at me once and said, "I love the way you dress. You dress your ass off.” You will get to know him later I’m sure, but this meant a lot to me coming from him, a man of very few words. Older Guy with Gay Tendencies (OGWGT) is always complimenting me, “Girl you got style”. In my minds eye I can imagine the type of clothes that I would wear if I was a thinner person. I think I would be Classic-Bohemian-Sophisticated Chic with a nod towards Ethnic-Funkiness in the accessories department. I would wear hats, and big giant rings. I’d be tattoed and pierced!
As a person who is overweight, I don’t think that I have the luxury of looking like a slob. There are days when I wish that I could just put on ratty t-shirt and sweatpants and go out to do what ever it is that I need to do. I see those women on the street sometimes and think I wish I could do it too. Just toss on anything and not give it a second thought. And they seem to make it work. But no I don’t have that luxury. There is nothing worse than a fat person who is not well put together, slovenly looking, or just looking like they have totally given up. So fat or not. I will continue to “dress my ass off”.
How it went down today:
Social Today: There is a plan of dinner in the park with a friend.
Mood Today: Good.
Food Today: Ok I think.
1 cup of Raisin Bran;
½ cup of 2% milk;
Coffee, drop of light cream and some 2%milk and 2 Splendas
½ chicken wrap with lettuce and tomato;
1cup of chicken noodle soup
No clue. (I know I know I'm working on it!)
Sunday, August 9, 2009
My mind is scattered today so this will most likely be all over the place as well…
Yesterday was Epic Fail.
I didn't go to WW.
I didn't do anything social yesterday. And it was a beautiful day.
I ate sausage and ice cream and loafed around. I didn't even scrapbook. Totally wasted my day.
I saw my “friend” last night. He choose the most awkward time to tell me he loved me. In my head I was like oh god why are you ruining this for me? But I just smiled my sexy smile and kissed him. But he loves me? He doesn’t. We are so not meant to be. He’s older. Has kids, one of whom is a little bitch, and doesn’t want more. I can’t say that I blame him. Also frankly, I think that he might be a little bit, well, gay. And don’t get me wrong. I loooooove the gays. I am a hag from way back. [My motto is that every straight girl needs a gay boyfriend] But I like my gays out and proud. Not closeted and having sex with me. Sorry. I’m funny like that. So April, if you think he’s gay, why do you even bother? Well smarty pants, voice in my head, I don’t know.
SPVIMH: Yes you do.
Me: No, I don’t.
SPVIMH: Yeah. You do.
Me: No…well ok listen. Here is the thing. I’m lonely. I am sad and lonely. He is available.
Love of my life—is with his wife.
Could have worked in a pinch—is just gone.
New guy full of promise—is MIA.
So yeah, older guy with gay tendencies is available and here. And sweet and funny. He’s better than being all-alone, which frankly I could not have handled last night.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. My level of loneliness is pretty high. I am lonely. I mean so lonely that it actually physically hurts. Sure, I have friends. All of who are married with children, or with someone or are single parents and therefore busy. That just leaves… me.
The interesting flip side of this is despite the loneliness; I can’t seem to muster up the energy to go out with the people who are available to me. I am supposed to meet a friend for potluck dinner in the park tomorrow. It sounds nice doesn’t it? And there is a part of me that wants to go, but there is still another part of me that just wants to hole up and stay home in bed with a book and my cat. [God that sounds pathetic doesn’t it?] I hear myself say those things and wonder what my problem is? Why am I this way? I have my theories of course. Not of which matter cause I’ve cloistered myself in the house with my books, my cat and my computer.
SPVIMH: Pull yourself together girl.
Me: I’m trying.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
I stopped taking both my ADHD and anti-depressant meds about a month ago. Why? Well I think the combination of meds was having a weird effect on me. The ADHD stuff especially. I was crashing. I would sleep all night long, wake up tired, sleep on my commute, be tired all day at work, sleep on my commute home and pass out when I got home. Also, I remember going to see my sister and her kids, something that I LOVE to do, and I slept all weekend. She was pissed and told me that it was like being with a junkie. The thing is that I had been feeling that way myself for while. And thinking to myself that this cannot be good to feel this "tired" all the time. So I stopped. Cold turkey. That was about 4 weeks ago I think. And for the first 3 weeks or so I was fine. But not anymore. The depression is creeping up on me. One of the reasons I was taking anti depressants in the first place, was because I was feeling everything too much. Something would touch me or make me sad, and it would send me into a tailspin. I would see a commercial on TV that was the least bit touching and I would just become inconsolable. I hated that feeling. I had no control over myself. Hence the drugs.
I really thought I was fine; maybe I’ve licked this thing. But then recently, a friend of mine asked me about my ex-boyfriend and I got all weepy. I was reading a book Shelter Me, [which I recommend by the way] and there are some moments of sadness in there, but there were moments when I had to put the book down, because I could feel myself getting upset. I know that it’s good to feel things. But I am also very aware that I am not someone who is able to control herself once she gets started. I remember seeing Forrest Gump in the movies (many many moons ago) and for some reason, at the end of that movie I cried for at least an hour. I KNEW it was weird, but I couldn't help it. Something about seeing things that are touching, or sad just sets me off in a way that is just not normal.
The problem is that I kind of hate my psychiatrist. He’s kind of a drug pushing, douche bag. I just feel like sure he should be dispensing drugs and most times that’s all I wanted from him. But I remember that one time, I started to talk about something and he offered me a referral to someone for the therapy part. WTF? Dude I PAY you. My insurance PAYS you. So while yes, most times I just want to be in an out sometimes you might actually have to talk to me. That’s your JOB! Isn’t it? Now I’m thinking about this while I write. Is he not supposed to talk to me? Is that not what he is there for? Maybe he is supposed to be a pill dispenser and that I should find myself a Therapist or something. Great…something NEW to think about.
Today is Saturday. I’m going to WW and see what kind of damage I did this week. I know that I haven’t been measuring or even keep track of what I’ve been eating. I think I need my ass kicked!
I was supposed to be social last night. Totally bailed out. I can rationalize all I want and say that well it was late and I was broke. True. But I haven’t seen this friend of mine in a long time and I should have just gone to say hi. Even if I left an hour later. I’m supposed to go to the park this afternoon with a co-worker/friend of mine for a concert. Right now, its looking like I want to stay home and in bed. But we are pushing right?
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Me and my hair… I have curly hair. For those who follow such things, I guess it can be categorized as 3C/4A.
I remember being about 13-14 years old and begging, BEGGING my mom to have my hair relaxed. I wanted to swing it and fling it! I would spend hours and hours blow drying it, frying it, dyeing it and straightening it, ironing it and rolling it.
In my late 20’s, after years of abusing my hair, I decided that I had just had enough of the following:
The damage and the cost and endless hours holed up in a crowed hair salon;
The weekly visits to the Dominicans-- Himamiwhyyougonnadotoday?
The ever present,“Mamiyouneedatrim”! (Then sit open mouthed and paralyzed with shock as they proceeded to hack half my shit off!);
The watching with fascination and horror at the smoke coming from the top of my head while being blow dried;
The cringing at the burning sensation from the relaxer and finally;
The holding of my breath at the toxic/rotten egg smell.
I was ready to stop cursing the rain and the damn humidity of summer...debating on whether or not I was going to go swimming... waking up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday to be first on the line... the cursing at myself for forgetting the wrap pins and having to pay 3 dollars for 20 pins when I had about 200 at home. Having to wrap my hair every night wasn’t the most fun either. Finally I would love my hair and learn to love, accept and express myself.
I was ready, to go natural! I knew what I was up against. I knew my mother would not understand. This was the same woman who told me, after I complained about inheriting her prematurely grey hair that I had to continue to color my hair. Because “you aren’t even married yet” Letting me know right away that if I let my gray hair come in that I would be destined to life of an old maid. My family did not take my decision to go natural very well. My grandmother very clearly asked me, why I had stopped combing it? My mother was certain that I would never meet a man with “that head of hair’.
But I persevered! It took a while. And the road has not been an easy one. The growing out process is not pretty.
I even turned to a support group type of website for curly haired folks. Me: Hello my name is April and I have curly hair. Support Group: hi April. Welcome! And it turned out that I was NOT ready for what I got. Who knew that there would be all these options:
To “Poo” or to “No Poo”?
To trim every 6 to 8 weeks or trim every 6 to 8 months?
To never ever blow out again?
To live life curly forever?
So no, I was not ready for what I got. I thought I would be able to bounce out of bed… hello? I’m natural why not? Yeah nobody told me. Let me tell you what I got... I got hair that has a mind of its own... I got hair that is never ever the same two days in a row...
And to be honest I still curse the damn humidity. If I don’t have just the right amount of product in my hair, my hair is fuzzy and frizzy. That's not sexy... Under all this hair--- is a sexy girl... I'm telling you...
I was not ready for so many things. I wasn’t ready to explain to The Dominicans that I don't use shampoo anymore... having to explain to the curly hair freaks that sometimes I LIKE straight hair... having to explain to my grandmother that my hair IS combed... Telling random people who don't know me who insist on touching my hair that NO they can't touch my hair... It happens way more that you think!!! And the reason you can’t touch my hair, you freak, is because I don’t know you. Hello? Realizing that no matter what... I will leave the house with a semi wet head... everyday--- even in the winter... that my hat days a pretty much over...
However, I accepted it and was fine. Until...
I let some boot-leg-run-of-the-mill-local-yokul ‘beauty parlor” color my hair. The process proved to be much too harsh and it just relaxed my hair. I mean my hair was about as straight as you can get.
That was in September 2008. After letting it grow out a little, I finally did a big chop on June 25, 2009. Best thing I ever did! The Hair journey starts once again...
I thought I would share my routine with people. I also participate on the website www.naturallycurly.com. A lot of people there have asked me about my routine, so I wrote it out.
I normally use Devachan products, but have found also found that occasionally using other products makes the Deva stuff work even better.
I use the No Poo once every other week. Use the same way you would use any other shampoo. Follow with the One Condition (OC). (Regardless of weather or not I use Deva, I NEVER EVER use shampoo. Shampoo makes my hair seize.)
I use "co wash" with the OC every other day, normally I only use my fingers to comb though--- sometimes but rarely do I use a wide tooth comb. (I find that it breaks up the curl; but if you feel like your hair is too tightly coiled, you might want to do this) I suggest that people try both methods and figure out which works best for them.
Rinse your completely. Wring out hair to get rid of the excess water. Use either a 100% cotton t-shirt or paper towels to dry your hair ***NEVER USE A REGULAR TOWEL!***
Work a little of the OC through out the hair. (If you part your hair, use your fingers.) Spray the Set it Free (SIF) in your hair. (I tend to start at the bottom and work my way through my hair and up to the top) Then srunch, srunch, srunch!
If time permits; I use a diffuser or hood dryer (Clearly a weekend luxury) When it's dry, I shake my head and fluff! Depending on how it dries (air dry or dryer) it takes any where from 1 1/2 hours to 30 minutes to dry.
On non-wash days, I use the Mister Right (MR) on non wash days. I spray it the way that I spray the SIF. Start at the bottom and work up to the top.
I am pretty careful when it comes to gels. I mix my gel with some conditioner. I don’t use mousse, also just to drying for my hair.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Time, time, time. See what’s become of me…
Time, time, time. See what’s become of me, while I looked around, for my possibilities. I was so hard to please.
Look around leaves are brown and the sky is a hazy shade of winter. Hear the Salvation Army band;
Down by the riverside it’s bound to be a better ride than what you’ve got planned…
Carry a cup in your hand. Look around leaves are brown and the sky is a hazy shade of winter. Hang on to your hopes my friend; That’s an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away;
Simply pretend…That you can build them again. Look around grass is high, fields are ripe, it’s the springtime of my life. Seasons change with the scenery;Weaving time in a tapestry;Won’t you stop and remember me? Look around leaves are brown and the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Look around leaves are brown, there’s a patch of snow on the ground.
How it all went down today:
Social Today: Yes! Lunch with a different co-worker, than yesterday
Mood Today: Flowed for the most part! Food Today: Not so good.
Breakfast: Coffee, drop of light cream and some 2%milk and 2 Splendas and a hand full of honey oat wheat pretzels
Lunch: 3 Samosas (Epic fail!)
Dinner: No clue. (If last night’s dinner was any indication that IS my problem)
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
One of the reasons that I wanted to keep a blog, is because of all the random thoughts that go through my head. I constantly see things and wonder what the fuck?
This morning I saw a man putting on deodorant while on the train platform. WTF? This man looked normal enough, sort of your average white guy. He was wearing work appropriate pants they were blue or black I think. A white long sleeved dress shirt that was open, I guess for easy armpit access, with a plain white t shirt (wife beater variety) underneath. As someone who has stood/sat next too many a stinky person while riding on the subway, I appreciate his efforts.
However, I am wondering what would possess someone one to do this at the Union Square train station at the height of morning rush hour. I mean I’ve occasionally forgotten to put deodorant on, but I usually just pick some up at the local Duane Reade and apply it in the privacy of my bathroom stall.
I posted my observation on my face book page and got many interesting responses. Many people concurred that these things only happen to me. I have to agree with that assessment I feel like I am the only person who sees crazy shit. One or two wished for such “excitement”. A friend of mine decided what MUST have happened was the following:
“ He got up and went to put some on but realized it finished yesterday and he forgot to pick some up SO on his way to work today, he stopped at one of those Duane Reade’s that are in or near the train station to buy one. But he didn't want to miss his train so he ran to the platform where he proceeded to administer the daily dose of stank protection!”
Someone else decided that he was well mannered and wise for not being in this hellish weather sans deodorant for more than a minute. They also praised his momma. Another friend of mine wanted to know how that was different than women who apply their make up while on the train. I am guilty of this, so I don’t think it’s the same at all! Arm pits are just disgusting in general. Applying lipstick and applying your speed stick to your hairy pit; are totally different.
I have had many many moments WTF moments:
- I once saw a women give her self a pedicure. I mean she was going to town, clipping and filing. This was followed by base coat, polish and a top coat.
- I once saw a man take out his dentures, apply more denture adhesive and place his teeth back in his mouth. If that was not bad enough, he wiped the excess denture goo on a pillar.
- There was also the guy who flossed his teeth for about 5 minutes and tossed the floss to the ground when he was done.
- My personal favorite the man that was cleaning his ears, avec a q-tip.
- On my way out of a store, there were three men who pushed past me to get out first. They literally let the door slam in my face.
I really could go on…but I won't.
This is how it all went down today:
Social Today: Yes! Lunch with a co-worker.
Mood Today: It ebbed and it flowed.
Food Today: Not too bad. Not really measuring or counting points but I didn’t go crazy.
Coffee, drop of light cream and some 2%milk and 3 splenda
Oatmeal with raisins and 1 tablespoon of maple syrup.
Cup of chicken noodle soup
½ Turkey wrap (sans condiments)
No clue. (maybe that’s a part of my problem! Lack of planning)
Monday, August 3, 2009
I went to the informational session last week, for biatric surgery. That as I said, it was probably one of the saddest things I have ever seen. All the people so desperate for an answer a solution anything! My issue, and it’s not a new issue, but my issue is feeling like the surgery won’t be the answer that I am looking for. It would solve the fact that I am always ready to eat something. Even if I’m NOT hungry. What IS that about?
Clearly I am a food addicted person. But what do I do my addiction. I can’t go into rehab for it. I cant’ stop eating all together can I? I was talking about this with a friend of mine. The thing is the food, for me, is really a great joy in my life. While all at the same time being the thing that will ultimtely destroy me if I let it. Sounds dramatic I know. But honestly, that’s how I feel. If I don’t get this under control, it will be my undoing. And I know it.
This is a blog that I wrote for my myspace blog. (Remember myspace?) I wrote it at the beginning of the year in 2008.
With the start of the New Year, I've been thinking a lot about who I am and what I want to change about me. One of the main things that has come to mind are physical changes that I would like to see take place in me for 2008.
I've been a big girl for a long time. Granted, never as big as I am now, but I was always a full figured girl. Sure, I struggled with my weight. It's been up and down and while I did think a lot about it, it is safe to say that, most days, my weight usually did not cause me to feel bad about myself. Sure I was big, but, honey, I was sexy. I had sexy hair, sexy lips, great smile, awesome personality etc. Big, juicy, sexy girls not for you? That was ok. My attitude was, if you didn't like girls who looked like me, you could look elsewhere. And while you were at it, kindly move out of the way, as you were most likely standing in front of someone who was trying get a peek at me! Not to mention that I had always dated men who told me that they thought I was beautiful and desirable. Having said that, let the record show that I am NOT a fan of Chubby Chasers (men who only date fat chicks) I'm sure I'll write a little something about that soon enough.
Over the past several months I've gained a lot weight, and the additional weight has made me tired! As a matter of fact, I'm tired all the time, all I seem to want to do is sleep. I get home from work and feel like I have been digging a ditch all day. I just want to pass out. And my Lord, I am cranky! I had conversation with a friend a while back and I expressed all the things I've been feeling: Angry, Cranky, Sad, Depressed, Annoyed etc. She asked me what you are doing about this. I thought about it and answered: Eating.
What IS that? Could it be that food is my drug of choice? Am I being dramatic? Is that not overstating it? Maybe, but Over Eaters Anonymous exists for reason. Why is this the way my unhappiness manifests itself? One would like to think, that when I tried on a pair of pants that definitely fit me last year, but some how don't fit me this year, I would be inspired to go to the gym that I joined in July and take a walk on the treadmill. But it doesn't. Why doesn't it? Why is my reaction to go get a cupcake instead? I have not a clue. I remember when I found out that my ex-boyfriend committed the ultimate act of betrayal. Did I cry? Yep, sure did, while eating a pint of ice cream.
To anyone who thinks that I'm lazy, I assure you that I am not. To anyone who thinks that all I need to do is to get my shit together, I wish I could just do that. I wish it was just that easy. It isn't. Not for me anyway.
To answer the unasked question, Yes, I've thought of biratic surgery. Here are the cons:
- I might get bobble head syndrome (Take a gander at Star Jones---she is a hot a mess)
- I would most likely need a body lift because of the excess skin (sounds sexy doesn't it?)
- It wouldn't help me with the problem I clearly have with food.
- It doesn't always work long term. (Take a peek at Carnie Wilson)
- I might die! it's a pretty risky operation
I might die! It's a pretty risky operation.
So I don't want GP? Ok then, go on a diet, and go to the gym. Etc etc. These are things that I have done before, with great success. But lately, I have not had any motivation. None. What so ever. The question is: Why not? Why am I not caring enough about myself to make better choices? Again, I have no idea.
By no means am I apologizing for who I am. There are many good things about me. I am just owning up to an issue that I have and am trying really hard to figure out what I should do about it. It just seems to me that a brand new year seems like an auspicious occasion for a fresh start and some introspection.
Friday, July 31, 2009
July 31, 2009
The other day I went to an informational session on bariatric surgery.
First off, there is nothing, and I do mean nothing, that is sadder than a room full of fatties looking for THE ANSWER. People are fat. I watched as people struggled to wedge themselves into seats. Several of the attendees where visibly uncomfortable and clearly had issues breathing. Young looking people with canes, I heard some one talking about having numbness in their legs and feet. And superficially, I just was struck with how bad people looked. I do my best to look good every single day. Make up—done! Hair—done! Clothes—cute (and more importantly clean and pressed—there is nothing NOTHING worse than a fatty with food stains on their clothing. It is almost as if when you get to a certain size, you just stop caring. I hope to God that I NEVER get like that.
I wish desperately that I wasn’t considering this. But I am. Whatever zest I ever had for weight loss has zoomed away. I don’t know why but I cant seem to do it the old fashioned way, you know diet and exercise?
I was chatting with a friend of mine who also has struggles with weight. She was telling me that she has gotten up to 368lbs. She has lost at least 100 lbs or more in her lifetime. Only to gain it all back. WTF? I have at least 3 friends who could stand to loose 100lbs or more. Where does that come from? Why is this our struggle? Instead of being a crack head, we’re food heads.
Back to surgery. So one of the things that is making me pause for thought is the way they described how you would have to eat. First, for 2 weeks before the surgery, you have to be on a liquid diet. (That sucks) Then, after surgery mushy food. Then after your body gets used what you’ve done to yourself, there is a list of foods that you may or may not be able to eat again. Steak. White meat chicken/turkey, sweets etc. Sigh. The thing is that I really feel like food, is one of the joys in life. I love turkey. What is better than a good steak? But what would I rather have? Juicy steak or big fat belly? The other thing that I am worried about is loose skin and bobble head syndrome. The loose skin disgusts me. The floppy, flappy, tube sock tits worry me. That’s not sexy. (Well what about surgery? What about it? Who is paying for this surgery? What will look like afterwards? Will my body be all pieced together like Frankenstein? Yeah, cause THAT’s sexy.) And bobble head syndrome…well does Star Jones look GOOD? (Admittedly she looks better now than she did right afterwards…but still).
In all honesty, I have not a clue as to what I am going to end up doing. The truth is that right now, I am totally leaning towards it. But the whole idea of it, makes me feel like I’ve given up and given in. Ok Food you win.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Random Hair thoughts:
I am obsessed with my hair. My hair is curly. If you follow curly hair it’s type 3c. If you are a person who has grown up with hair issues, you will feel my pain. My hair has been:
- Parted to the side
- and then some.
Basically it has been a hot mess. I’ve done so many things to my hair that I should not have and am currently suffering for it. I did the BC last month and am working on growing it out.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Not than any one is paying attention. That was not the point of this exercise. But I feel like such the looser. No blogging. No journaling. No WW-ing. No nothing. Just me. Eating. Why? I honestly think that I'm hungry. I mean I feel like eating so that's what I've been doing. Eating. Eating anything. Everything. All the time. I think about food often. Sigh.
I took some time alone the other day and wrote down some thoughts... which I would share, if I weren’t such a disorganized mess.
Basically, I'm thinking of getting lap band surgery. I feel as though I am at an impasse. I want o loose weight but I can't seem to get it together long enough to make it happen. I have an appointment at a LBS clinic this coming week and I am going to go. I've made this appointment in the past and have bailed out. This time, promising my self that I am going to go and at least hear what they have to say. I don't HAVE to DO anything. I just have to listen.
I did have a NSV (non scale victory) this week. I went to the gym and walked on the treadmill for 25 mins. I then attempted to do the bike, but that shit is not comfortable. I couldn't get the seat right... that lasted oh about 3 mins.
Have I shared that I am starting to feel like people are staring at me? Yeah, I think people are staring at me. I think that I am officially THAT fat person. The one that people hope don't sit next to them on the bus, train or plane. I'm that person that people see eating ice cream and shake their heads and think... is she fucking kidding? She has no business eating that. I suppose they are right.
I’m also that woman that men DON’T look at. They look right through, over, under, around and or past me. Like I don’t even exist. I don’t know how this is possible, but I am now too fat to even been seen.
I wish that being embarrassed was a good enough reason that would propel me into weight loss. It’s not.
I wish that loneliness were a good enough reason to propel me into weight loss. It’s not.
What is a good enough reason that will propel me into weight loss…
So do I go to WW tomorrow or not? I'll let you know.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
May 25, 2009 Memorial Day!
Well here is the deal about yesterday. While I will not say it was a total success, I also will not say it was an epic fail. I think that it was not in my best interest, to go to a BBQ on my first day on program. (Duh) But yesterday is done.
This morning I ended up running around so I didn’t get a chance to eat a breakfast-y breakfast. But I did make myself a pretty good brunch.
Ice coffee (with skim milk and 2 Splenda)
Large whole grain pita
Teaspoon of Dijon mustard
Teaspoon of Ketchup
Not sure what the deal is with dinner yet. Hello! This it exactly what I was talking about. The planning is what kills me. I need to plan, plan, plan.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
May 24, 2009
Today is my first full day on Weight Watchers. And of course today I have a BBQ. What to do? What to do? I’m really not sure. I almost feel like I am already failing for the day. I haven’t planned at all. And that is key. You can’t eat well on the fly.
Fuck me. This is not how I wanted to do this.
Note to self. Go shopping April. Get food that will work. And plan plan plan.
The thing is that I have to make it work. First thing is to have a substantial breakfast. Go get coffee. And take it from there. Maybe I should take some carrots for the road so that when I get there I’m not like a vacuum cleaner with the food.
Day: 1 of 1
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Saturday May 23, 2009
I have decided to go on a quest and change my life. I am blogging to document that journey.
I am going to do whatever it is I need to become a better, healthier, smarter and hopfully, happier April. My main reason for blogging and tweeting about it is to chart my path. Maybe people will read me maybe they won’t. It honestly doesn’t matter. I am doing this for me. I may keep it up and I may not. However, today as I write this the hope is that I will blog about my journey of self-discovery and change, about once a week, perhaps more if I am so inspired.
I decided to go back to weight watchers. Back to weight watchers. Back. To. Weight. Watchers. I have been there and here before. I have been successful once. That is I was dedicated and on program for over a year and lost a significant amount of weight. I looked great. I felt amazing. I was sexy honey. Not at all thin, but just looking so much better. The whole thing, people were noticing and complimenting. I was gushing about myself. And then…
I gained it all back. It happens so fast. Event thought I knew it was happening; it seemed as though before I knew it, I had fallen off the wagon and gained it all back. Epic Epic fail. But this hardly a new story. We all know of people who have done the same thing. Everyone says, oh not me. I’ve worked so hard to loose 20, 40, and 60, 150 lbs. I won’t let myself gain it all back. Yet many, excuse me, most do.
My reality is that I am a food-addicted person. I eat when I am hungry. I eat when I a not. I eat to cope. I eat to soothe my soul. I eat to celebrate. I eat to morn. I eat to entertain. I eat to stave of the sometimes-agonizing loneliness and depression I have grappled with for what seems like my entire life. I eat. I eat and I eat.
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t struggle with food. I have always struggled with food. Always. I was chubby baby and child. I was a fat teenager who grew into an obese adult. Here is my other reality. I am obese. I think the first time my, beautiful thin Mother, took me to WW was when I was 10 or so. It’s been an uphill battle ever since.
I wish that it did something to me to say that. But facts is facts. It happened slowly but it happened. I could live with it. I could just say hey this is me, like or go fuck yourself. I know that has been the image of myself that I have tried to project. I think that I have had varying degrees of success with that.
The life that I have been leading is not the life that I had imagined for myself.
Not even a little bit. And I’m going to change it.