Even the sky was overcast. It was actually a very productive
morning, but when the kids and hubby came home, I felt frozen, stuck.
The urge to eat was strong. I wasn't hungry, though -- just stuck, brain dead.
So, I went for a walk.
I may have been gone for only 10 minutes, but I felt a world better.
I often feel I belong to everybody but me.
No one is taking advantage, per se, I've just defined
that it was okay. It's not anymore. Mornings until 10:30
are mine. Mine to exercise, prep for meals or menus, chores,
blog, shower, get ready for the day -- things that make me healthier.
|Sleepless early morning, catching up on scripture study.|
I chose to read by candlelight because I both like it and
because we have no walls dividing our kitchen, dining,
and family room. When I turn on a light, it floods
the hallways into the bedrooms. Candles are softer.
|Little guy Skye woke up later and joined me.|
I loved having him with me while he worked on
|Sending my first born on the "Klondike" - a camping|
trip in the snowy mountains with his scout troop.
|Presidents' Day -- It's our turn to post the flags in|
part of the neighborhood. It's wonderful to see the
streets lined with the flags. (Hard to see in this photo).
For better or for worse, this is me making an effort.
I can't believe it's Sunday, again.
Trying a more flattering angle -- up higher. I'm also
sticking out my chin to smooth out the double.
Don't I look hopeful?
My favorite place to be. When I was a kid having a
bad day at school, I'd mentally go to my "happy place"
which was my bed. I'd say to myself, "This will all be
over, and tonight I'll be in bed with my pillow and
blanket and cool sheets."
My almost all-time high. (227 was my highest during
the past several weeks). I'm 5' 8" - medium frame.
I'd like to be somewhere between 140 and 150.
Danny and me at IKEA. We had a good time in spite of
his head cold and my headache. I love his smile.
He's helping me with this self-portrait-a-day project.
I hadn't snapped any pictures and didn't know what to take.
We were returning from Walmart after buying fabric for my
daughter's dress. I'm going to teach her how to sew with a pattern
and using the same sewing machine my mother and I learned on
(1961 Brother, lavender!).
Now. Saturday morning. My son has the computer I am
allergic to. Danny gave me the little red one as a gift --
much better. But, I really don't like spending a lot of time
on the computer anymore.
(My headboard used to be our fence in Chicagoland).
After the hip-bursitis diagnosis, I was really discouraged, depressed, and went into a tail-spin (and a tail inflation, too, I suppose, gaining 15 more pounds -- I'm at my all-time highest weight). I ignored the blog and spent little time on the computer anymore. A couple of blogs were still fed to my email. One was Jill's "The Sassy Pear." She was recently inspired by Kyra's "(the never ending) Adventures in Fitness (& Life)" and her project to take self-portraits every day for a month. At first I didn't want to, but then I though maybe I could learn something from it. I've been in a fog for months now, pretty much ignoring my circumstances and surviving on denial.
My daughter and I after her Irish dancing competition.
We have a fun time together while I help her practice and
get her ready at 0'dark-thirty. She seems to really like me
and my company. I hope that lasts forever.
Walking to church. We have three hours: sacrament
meeting, Sunday school, and Elders' Quorum/Relief
Society meetings. I was "called" as a Sunday school
teacher to the 14-15 year-olds. That has been both a
source of great anxiety and a growing experience. It
definitely is outside my comfort zone. I wasn't raised in
this church, so I feel highly unqualified. But, that's the whole
point of a calling, to stretch and develop us.
When I see this picture, I remember so many times wanting to
turn around and go home and not be around others.
I often force a smile. "Great! And you?"
I have to say though, by the end of the 3 hours, I am up-lifted and
glad I went. I keep telling myself that over and over as I make this
trip the following week.
There it is -- the reason I avoid the camera and mirrors.
Behind me is my sweet family at dinnertime.
I am in my office, the kitchen.
I should label this, "Tired, Fat Mom Who Has Completely Let Herself Go."
Day 4 was closing, and I still hadn't thought of what type
of self-portrait I should take. I wanted to take off my shoes
and began to pull on my pant leg to lift my leg onto my other knee;
I couldn't lift my foot otherwise -- too fat, pants too tight.
"THAT"S what I should take a picture of," I thought to myself.
"It's absolutely ridiculous that I've let myself get this way. I should
take a good, hard look of what I've become instead of numbly ignoring it."
I had just taken a shower and was grabbing a bite before
heading to the grocery store. My hubby sweetly said,
"You look pretty."
I asked him to take a picture so I could see what he sees.
I don't see it.
I see a fat, depressed, tired girl who has nearly given up and
is about to put a potato chip in her mouth. Wow.