Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Read My Hips.

In the smack dab middle of Read My Hips by Kim Brittingham.

As I told my sister via text, if I wasn't a robot, I would cry. Never have I felt such a strong, personal connection to written words. That is a bold statement, I know. The entire book is about loving yourself no matter your size. All things that I realize, or, as my therapist says, "my executive side" realizes, but are so difficult to put into practice.

The words I am typing here do no justice to effect this books is having on me; it prompted me to creep Kim Brittingham out on Facebook and write her a brief message. This is not normal behavior for me.

So far, one of my favorite bits, "And regardless of what size or shape my body may be, no matter how it may change -- bigger, smaller, looser, older -- I want to be loved just as I am. Me, in my natural packaging, appreciated for the whole that I am, for all the wonderful innate qualities that I bring to the table."

Sunday, December 18, 2011


Apparently I am not maintaining brain cells. I am losing them.

Two fails in one weekend, I'm going for a record...

Fail #1: Made Christmas cookies. My sister came over, I had already started the pizelles, when she got here, she started on the chocolate chips. My second round of cookies is my favorite: butter cookies. Those little spritzer cookies full of artery-clogging, triglyceride-raising goodness. The dough was uncooperative, so I refrigerated it. That worked for the cookie press. And then I put them in the oven and they spread out all over the place. I was frustrated and angry. I tossed everything out. Later, for whatever reason, I realized how I effed up. I put in 8x the butter, but only 4x the other ingredients. Good-bye brain cells, it was nice getting reacquainted you for a brief time. Go spread your competence elsewhere.

Fail #2: Got a jump on the the laundry this weekend. I started it on Saturday evening instead of Sunday morning. Felt way ahead of the game, a little treat to myself for effing up the cookies. (Yeah, completing laundry is a treat, typing that, I realize I'm much more a Type A personality than I care to admit.) This morning, as I was again, feeling satisfied that it is not yet noon and the laundry is away, I cursed myself for thinking to gain a time advantage, I'd just toss the whites in with the colors. Husband's undershirts are tinged gray, as is my white camisole. Goodbye common sense brain cells, I hope you use your power for good instead of evil.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

In Love.

There is some one new in my life, but I have a feeling that my love is unrequited. This is a reason for this: my new love is a house. A beautiful, beautiful house that, deep within my being, I feel is meant for my family.

I cannot stop thinking about this place. The center hallway, the welcoming porch,the cozy living room with gas fireplace, the thick, shiny plank hardwood floors, the humongous add-on kitchen with dining nook, the large deck, the huge yard with plenty of room for all sorts of vegetables, all the natural light. *sigh*

I have driven past this home many, many times. I always wondered what it looked like inside. Now I know, and it is even more amazing. The idea of walking up the porch steps and entering the double front door excites me.

But now, the downside: anxiety. We are an anxious family, each with our own peccadillos. How will the child cope with not having friends two doors away? How will we cope with her anxiety? Should the move be postponed until she's older? My heart is torn. My heart wants this house so badly, but my heart also wants to protect my daughter.