I haven't posted in a while because I am lazy. In the last month, I have been back and forth from doctor to doctor. I have paid millions in co-pays, gas and meds. I can say without hesitation that I work solely for insurance. Thank God for it. I certainly don't work for the money. Walmart greeters make more than me. Prisoners make more. Anyway, I cannot stand to go to the doctor. I fear doctors and nurses. Not because of needles and stuff. A needle does not scare me...(unless it is in my mouth). I fear their office in general. I will explain.
Two years ago, I was having some problems with my hand (hence, carpal tunnel surgery). I was sent to a new doctor to get his opinion. I made the appointment and the plans to out run a rocket to get there by 3:30. I arrived....checked in....filled out papers....filled out insurance info even though they were going to scan it anyway....went to bathroom and settled in.
4:00 pm. No worries. I can read so more. Confession...I watch people. Even when I pretend to be reading. I am watching.
4:30 pm. I am watching alright. Watching people go in and out of the door. Hey, what about me? I have been here longer than those people. I step up to desk. "I am sorry Mrs. Wells...Dr. Whatever is a little behind." No worries. I can read a couple of articles.
5:00 pm. Worried. Mrs. Wells is getting very worried. I give unfriendly receptionist the "how much longer do I have to wait?" look. She makes eye contact and goes back to her job.
You would think that I would have seen the red flags. Not. I am just happy to be here.
5:15 pm Finally!! They call me back. (No I do not want to step on the scale...look at me...write something down and be kind). "My blood pressure is high?"..REALLY?! "Dr. Freakin Running Behind will be right with you."
5:45 pm I am listening to the doctor talk to other patients. They should really rethink these walls. I really didn't need to know that Mr. Other Patient is having trouble wiping.
6:00 pm Quiet...except for my own shallow breathing and heatbeat. Hello? Do I dare move? Where is Dr. I Will Kick Your Ass when you get in here? No phones....no chatting...no movi.......Goodnight?
Mrs. Wells coughs as loud as she can. Moments later....Dr. I Was Already In My Car When The Nurse Tells Me I Forgot A Patient comes in. No flippin lie...they had locked up.
The red flag is flying so high. I guess I should be happy that the nurse heard me "pretend" cough. Would I have been found dead at the back door the next morning? Would my nails be worked down to the bloody nub? Can you see the headlines.
Dr. I Have Been Doing This Way Too Long....tells me I have some swelling and tenderness...
He has no idea.
I haven't scheduled an appt. past noon since. Someone else can be the last patient.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
I don't feel like it....
A friend ask me...why haven't you blogged this week? I don't feel like it. My hand hurts, this bandage is driving me OUT OF MY MIND and I am on pain meds. I do not think I will be able to face you people if I vomit all of my thoughts while on this medication. Precisely why I have never been a drinker...I would definately say something I would regret. I may even show something that YOU might regret. Enough said.
About this bandage....I understand that I should be thankful that it is not a cast. I would hurt someone. This bandage in the grand scheme of things is nothing, but in my little corner of my life....it is a menace. I am not supposed to take it off until my dr. appt on Monday. Up close it smells like hospital. You know that smell of hard plastic, bandaides and bleach. Every now and then I get a whiff and my stomach rolls. I guess the alternative of what it could smell like....oh never mind that thought. Anyway, it is thick and half way to my elbow. It weaves in and around my thumb. I have OCD on many levels. Knowing that I cannot scratch my hand as it itches under this flippin' bandage is just about to put my under. I have at many times since the surgery, stood in the middle of the room screamed because I cannot "get" to the itch. AHHHHHHH!!!!!
I am also, "not supposed to get it wet"! Nevermind that it is my "wiping" hand. I am already inconvienenced but now I have to shower with it hanging out of the shower or straight up in the air. Tod has a way of wrapping it with ziplocks, cling wrap and tape. It works very well. I have not gotten it wet yet. It is a miracle. It you need laughing material for the next time you are nervous....me trying to bathe with one hand should do the trick. Things flying all over the shower stall and there are several grunts and moans that may be considered inappropriate coming out of the bathroom. I am sure something is not as clean as it could be. But, it won't be for the lack of trying.
This blog entry is probably not what you may expect from me. I am loopy and making my self nuts. I am drugged half out of my mind and halucinating. Too bad....if am going to halucinate....I would like to enjoy it. I would like to think that I look like Bo Derek running down the beach in that stupid bathing suit and beaded cornrows swinging in th.......
wait...what was that......
About this bandage....I understand that I should be thankful that it is not a cast. I would hurt someone. This bandage in the grand scheme of things is nothing, but in my little corner of my life....it is a menace. I am not supposed to take it off until my dr. appt on Monday. Up close it smells like hospital. You know that smell of hard plastic, bandaides and bleach. Every now and then I get a whiff and my stomach rolls. I guess the alternative of what it could smell like....oh never mind that thought. Anyway, it is thick and half way to my elbow. It weaves in and around my thumb. I have OCD on many levels. Knowing that I cannot scratch my hand as it itches under this flippin' bandage is just about to put my under. I have at many times since the surgery, stood in the middle of the room screamed because I cannot "get" to the itch. AHHHHHHH!!!!!
I am also, "not supposed to get it wet"! Nevermind that it is my "wiping" hand. I am already inconvienenced but now I have to shower with it hanging out of the shower or straight up in the air. Tod has a way of wrapping it with ziplocks, cling wrap and tape. It works very well. I have not gotten it wet yet. It is a miracle. It you need laughing material for the next time you are nervous....me trying to bathe with one hand should do the trick. Things flying all over the shower stall and there are several grunts and moans that may be considered inappropriate coming out of the bathroom. I am sure something is not as clean as it could be. But, it won't be for the lack of trying.
This blog entry is probably not what you may expect from me. I am loopy and making my self nuts. I am drugged half out of my mind and halucinating. Too bad....if am going to halucinate....I would like to enjoy it. I would like to think that I look like Bo Derek running down the beach in that stupid bathing suit and beaded cornrows swinging in th.......
wait...what was that......
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Out running the dog....
So, I went for a walk yesterday. The doctor said I must strengthen my back....so....I put on my new walking shoes. Armed with my phone, keys and ITouch (all tucked securely in my walking fanny pack...that's right, I said fanny pack), I hit the driveway. When one hurts and doesn't want to do anything but lay on the heating pad, it is very important to find the right song to motivate and push you through "take off" of you walk. She's a Bad Mamma Jamma seemed to do the trick.
I must share something with you. I am a home body. I feel safe in my home. I do not like to walk too far from my house. Why? you ask. I do not know. I have an incredible fear that I will get lost. How stupid is that? I feel vulnerable and shaky. I will walk for 15 minutes, stop and walk back. I am fine if someone is with me. Do I need professional help? Maybe I feel that I will be abducted. Seriously, if someone tried to put me in their car....I know I couldn't out run them, so I would just lay down and play dead. I highly doubt that unless there is a team of kidnappers, they would get me in the car. Okay, with that said....I am working on this fear.
The other thing is my music. I HAVE to have it. It pushes me. My Ipod Touch is loaded with Hip Hop and Old School Funk. The peppier, the better I walk. My only problem is that the minute I put is on.....I can't hear if a kidnapper runs up behind me. I am constantly looking around me so I never fully enjoy the walk that I am supposed to be making to improve my health. This, my friends, is a vicious cycle or ritual that it is performed everytime I go out for a walk. Sad huh?
Okay, back to yesterday's walk. I am ten minutes into it and I start to feel safe from the boogie men of the world. (I can still see my house) This is an adventure. I walk past a house with 2 dogs in the back yard. Crap....I forgot about dogs. Thank God they are in a fenced back yard. I want to tease them for barking at me. I feel very confident that they cannot get over the fence....buy let's not tempt fate. I continue, realizing that I am going to have to huff it up a hill. The faint sound of the little engine that could begins to repeat it's self over and over in my head. Three mailboxes...I can do it. One.....two.....huff, huff, three. Top of the hill.
Yeah, I made it, I di........where did that dog come from? At the top of the hill, (okay, slight incline) a fat, old, ears dragging the ground, belly dragging the ground, hounddog appears from a partially open garage door. He is walking toward me, swinging his ears and belly from side to side. He looks friendly enough until he starts growling. This fat little dog is going to eat me. He is coming at me with all of the force he can muster. I pull out the ear phones and start to pick up speed. He is coming at me faster. I realize that there is no way I can out run him. I am old, fat and I may trip on MY belly that is dragging the ground. Just as I start to panic.....I see it.....the Invisible Fence sign. No wander he looks so frustrated. He has gone as far as he could. I, on the other hand, am walking as fast as I can.
I am done with this walk. I cut through the golf course and enter my back yard in no time flat. Like a record for me. I need water.....nerve pill....rest......
Okay, I good...I think I will go for a walk tomorrow.
I must share something with you. I am a home body. I feel safe in my home. I do not like to walk too far from my house. Why? you ask. I do not know. I have an incredible fear that I will get lost. How stupid is that? I feel vulnerable and shaky. I will walk for 15 minutes, stop and walk back. I am fine if someone is with me. Do I need professional help? Maybe I feel that I will be abducted. Seriously, if someone tried to put me in their car....I know I couldn't out run them, so I would just lay down and play dead. I highly doubt that unless there is a team of kidnappers, they would get me in the car. Okay, with that said....I am working on this fear.
The other thing is my music. I HAVE to have it. It pushes me. My Ipod Touch is loaded with Hip Hop and Old School Funk. The peppier, the better I walk. My only problem is that the minute I put is on.....I can't hear if a kidnapper runs up behind me. I am constantly looking around me so I never fully enjoy the walk that I am supposed to be making to improve my health. This, my friends, is a vicious cycle or ritual that it is performed everytime I go out for a walk. Sad huh?
Okay, back to yesterday's walk. I am ten minutes into it and I start to feel safe from the boogie men of the world. (I can still see my house) This is an adventure. I walk past a house with 2 dogs in the back yard. Crap....I forgot about dogs. Thank God they are in a fenced back yard. I want to tease them for barking at me. I feel very confident that they cannot get over the fence....buy let's not tempt fate. I continue, realizing that I am going to have to huff it up a hill. The faint sound of the little engine that could begins to repeat it's self over and over in my head. Three mailboxes...I can do it. One.....two.....huff, huff, three. Top of the hill.
Yeah, I made it, I di........where did that dog come from? At the top of the hill, (okay, slight incline) a fat, old, ears dragging the ground, belly dragging the ground, hounddog appears from a partially open garage door. He is walking toward me, swinging his ears and belly from side to side. He looks friendly enough until he starts growling. This fat little dog is going to eat me. He is coming at me with all of the force he can muster. I pull out the ear phones and start to pick up speed. He is coming at me faster. I realize that there is no way I can out run him. I am old, fat and I may trip on MY belly that is dragging the ground. Just as I start to panic.....I see it.....the Invisible Fence sign. No wander he looks so frustrated. He has gone as far as he could. I, on the other hand, am walking as fast as I can.
I am done with this walk. I cut through the golf course and enter my back yard in no time flat. Like a record for me. I need water.....nerve pill....rest......
Okay, I good...I think I will go for a walk tomorrow.
Monday, February 1, 2010
A serving size of cereal....
hahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!! I love cereal. It is something that I have eaten my whole life. You get your calcium and a tasty little sugar boost. I decided to start keeping up with my calories. New year...fresh start. Have you ever measured out a serving of cereal? What a JOKE!!!! It equals that content of a baby food jar!!! Just the right amount to make me mad!! Surely this is all a cruel trick, but alas...it is not. We have a very warped sense of what a serving size is.
I have started keeping a record of my calorie intake. I am blown away at the amount of calories that can be eaten in a day. Even when you think that you are doing great with your choices. FYI...one salad can use up your whole budget of calories for the day. Dressing on the side!
Journaling your calories intake can really make you accountable to your choices. It is like keeping up with a bank account. Do you really want to spend you money on this when you can have that? I am beginning to be very picky with my with my "bank" account.
Now back to the cereal....my favorite is Honey Comb. Love it and it makes me think I am eating alot because it is big! Okay, I know it is full of sugar but I like the "good" kind too. However....I HATE that Kashi stuff. It reminds me of the mornings as a kid when my mom would bring out the Shredded Wheat...not cool when you are 10.....just sayin....
I have started keeping a record of my calorie intake. I am blown away at the amount of calories that can be eaten in a day. Even when you think that you are doing great with your choices. FYI...one salad can use up your whole budget of calories for the day. Dressing on the side!
Journaling your calories intake can really make you accountable to your choices. It is like keeping up with a bank account. Do you really want to spend you money on this when you can have that? I am beginning to be very picky with my with my "bank" account.
Now back to the cereal....my favorite is Honey Comb. Love it and it makes me think I am eating alot because it is big! Okay, I know it is full of sugar but I like the "good" kind too. However....I HATE that Kashi stuff. It reminds me of the mornings as a kid when my mom would bring out the Shredded Wheat...not cool when you are 10.....just sayin....
Friday, January 29, 2010
Shop at your own risk....
Attention Walmart Shoppers....
I had an appointment with the surgeon today. Apparently my Carpal... has tunneled. I have not been able to work this week because I can't lift anything. Since my job requires lifting....I get a vacation. A no expenses paid vaca. Wow... I was going somewhere with that.....oh, since I am never home during a normal business week, I thought it would be nice to leave the surgeon and hop on over to Wally World for some groceries.
If you know me...you know that I LOVE Walmart. I think it is the Purchase Palace. If Walmart ain't got it....I don't need it. I understand that there are many of you out there who are diehard Target fans and I like Target too, but their "big girl" clothing makes me feel bad about myself. I have to go up in sizes because their clothes run small. Also, you cannot get near the amount of free entertainment that you can get in Walmart. Let me explain....
At Walmart I carefully chose my buggy, so not to get a bad roller. Nothing worse than getting a "knocker" buggy. You know, roll, knock, knock, roll, knock, knoc......You get this idea. Anyway, I chose and carefully wiped the handle down with a disinfecting wipe and began my journey.
I passed my favorite cashier, we nod (I am on first name basis with most employees). I made my way to the shampoo isle where I encounter a pleasant looking lady who was also shopping for shampoo. We nod (I don't know her). I have to wait for her to move her so I can get by,...no biggie...I wait. This will not dampen my spirits. On to the next item....there she is again. Smile, nod from recognition, continue on. What the freak, she is casing me? Every isle, every section....there she is. She doesn't even have a buggy. What does she want?!! She cannot possibly need all of the same things I do. Does she have my shopping list? I will find a place to hide. She is making me unconfortable. She is making me second guess my trip to Walmart......NOBODY makes me second guess a trip to Walmart!!!!!!!! I will lose her in the fat girl panties....she doesn't need them.
In my haste to hide from the Non-buggy stalker, I run into a lady with 2 littles boys who are screaming to the tops of their lungs. She is frantic with that "would someone please kidnap my children" look in her eyes. She comments to them that other little boys are not misbehaving. She promises treats and ......all of a sudden an older lady (having a bad hair day) in one of those motorized buggies, takes the corner on two wheels and start yelling at these little boys. Grandma perhaps? She obviously had done this before because both boys sat their little butts down and got a sweet smile on their face. Tawanda!!!!!!
I take Granny Speedracer as my cue to get out of the store. I pick up my pace. I am feeling anxious about Non-Buggy Stalker finding me. I choose what I think is the cashier that will be the fastest. I do not recognize her...maybe she is new. She is ringing up things at a healthy speed. I feeling good about getting on my way home, when she starts telling me that she is Special Needs. Really folks. She told me that she was a slow learner. STOP....I work with Special Needs children....I ADORE them. They are the best part of my day. Understand the humor in this. Why would you tell a complete stranger that you are a slow learner? And then she tells me that she made all A's. And....her mother would check her out of school every day because she would call home and say she had a headache.....speaking of......
I pay. I leave. The sweet little Walmart greeter stands motionless on her spongy pad (to help with standing all day back pain) and smiles. "Have a nice day mam." "You too...stay warm." What I really want to say is, "watch out for the lady in the go-cart!"
Home.....ahhh.
I had an appointment with the surgeon today. Apparently my Carpal... has tunneled. I have not been able to work this week because I can't lift anything. Since my job requires lifting....I get a vacation. A no expenses paid vaca. Wow... I was going somewhere with that.....oh, since I am never home during a normal business week, I thought it would be nice to leave the surgeon and hop on over to Wally World for some groceries.
If you know me...you know that I LOVE Walmart. I think it is the Purchase Palace. If Walmart ain't got it....I don't need it. I understand that there are many of you out there who are diehard Target fans and I like Target too, but their "big girl" clothing makes me feel bad about myself. I have to go up in sizes because their clothes run small. Also, you cannot get near the amount of free entertainment that you can get in Walmart. Let me explain....
At Walmart I carefully chose my buggy, so not to get a bad roller. Nothing worse than getting a "knocker" buggy. You know, roll, knock, knock, roll, knock, knoc......You get this idea. Anyway, I chose and carefully wiped the handle down with a disinfecting wipe and began my journey.
I passed my favorite cashier, we nod (I am on first name basis with most employees). I made my way to the shampoo isle where I encounter a pleasant looking lady who was also shopping for shampoo. We nod (I don't know her). I have to wait for her to move her so I can get by,...no biggie...I wait. This will not dampen my spirits. On to the next item....there she is again. Smile, nod from recognition, continue on. What the freak, she is casing me? Every isle, every section....there she is. She doesn't even have a buggy. What does she want?!! She cannot possibly need all of the same things I do. Does she have my shopping list? I will find a place to hide. She is making me unconfortable. She is making me second guess my trip to Walmart......NOBODY makes me second guess a trip to Walmart!!!!!!!! I will lose her in the fat girl panties....she doesn't need them.
In my haste to hide from the Non-buggy stalker, I run into a lady with 2 littles boys who are screaming to the tops of their lungs. She is frantic with that "would someone please kidnap my children" look in her eyes. She comments to them that other little boys are not misbehaving. She promises treats and ......all of a sudden an older lady (having a bad hair day) in one of those motorized buggies, takes the corner on two wheels and start yelling at these little boys. Grandma perhaps? She obviously had done this before because both boys sat their little butts down and got a sweet smile on their face. Tawanda!!!!!!
I take Granny Speedracer as my cue to get out of the store. I pick up my pace. I am feeling anxious about Non-Buggy Stalker finding me. I choose what I think is the cashier that will be the fastest. I do not recognize her...maybe she is new. She is ringing up things at a healthy speed. I feeling good about getting on my way home, when she starts telling me that she is Special Needs. Really folks. She told me that she was a slow learner. STOP....I work with Special Needs children....I ADORE them. They are the best part of my day. Understand the humor in this. Why would you tell a complete stranger that you are a slow learner? And then she tells me that she made all A's. And....her mother would check her out of school every day because she would call home and say she had a headache.....speaking of......
I pay. I leave. The sweet little Walmart greeter stands motionless on her spongy pad (to help with standing all day back pain) and smiles. "Have a nice day mam." "You too...stay warm." What I really want to say is, "watch out for the lady in the go-cart!"
Home.....ahhh.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Granny Soup
Good morning world! What a gorgeous day outside despite the fact that it is freezing. I understand that it is only January but I am so ready for spring. Somehow I feel cuter in my capris and flops.
I am going to try my hand at blogging, (maybe to keep me away from the pantry). I have always loved to write my feelings down. I have journals starting in the 4th grade. Writing soothes my soul. It helps calm me. I do not fret over others knowing what I am thinking because I am an open book. Just ask me something...I will tell you. I feel more real and connected that way.
I chose to call my blog Granny Soup. Why Granny Soup you ask. Well for those of you who never knew my Granny....your life is not complete. If you have never tasted Granny Soup from her (or me)....you are totally missing out. I will elaborate...
My first memory of Granny Soup is our house on Clinton Street. Granny's kitchen always smelled of something good. I could not have been more than 2 or 3. I do remember Granny blowing on the soup to cool it down. She would even drop an ice cube in it. The soup was made from what was left over in the fridge. Add her cornbread or biscuits....oh my....comfort food. It did not have a name. I started asking for Granny's Soup...the name was born.
In high school, I would beg Granny to open a restaurant and call it Granny Soup. I think it would have been a hit. Granny put the recipe in a local cookbook and titled it, "Granny Soup...Lori's Favorite".
When I married and became the queen of my own kitchen...I made my first Granny Soup. I am a pro. A natural. It is so simple yet so filling and yummy. I make it now in honor of Granny. It is still my favorite comfort food.
So....Granny Soup was an obvious choice for my blog. It is a mixture of many things. Much like Granny. I wish I had gotten a chance to make soup for her. I think she would be proud. I have never mastered her biscuits...but I can make a mean cornbread.
....ummm what's for dinner.....
I am going to try my hand at blogging, (maybe to keep me away from the pantry). I have always loved to write my feelings down. I have journals starting in the 4th grade. Writing soothes my soul. It helps calm me. I do not fret over others knowing what I am thinking because I am an open book. Just ask me something...I will tell you. I feel more real and connected that way.
I chose to call my blog Granny Soup. Why Granny Soup you ask. Well for those of you who never knew my Granny....your life is not complete. If you have never tasted Granny Soup from her (or me)....you are totally missing out. I will elaborate...
My first memory of Granny Soup is our house on Clinton Street. Granny's kitchen always smelled of something good. I could not have been more than 2 or 3. I do remember Granny blowing on the soup to cool it down. She would even drop an ice cube in it. The soup was made from what was left over in the fridge. Add her cornbread or biscuits....oh my....comfort food. It did not have a name. I started asking for Granny's Soup...the name was born.
In high school, I would beg Granny to open a restaurant and call it Granny Soup. I think it would have been a hit. Granny put the recipe in a local cookbook and titled it, "Granny Soup...Lori's Favorite".
When I married and became the queen of my own kitchen...I made my first Granny Soup. I am a pro. A natural. It is so simple yet so filling and yummy. I make it now in honor of Granny. It is still my favorite comfort food.
So....Granny Soup was an obvious choice for my blog. It is a mixture of many things. Much like Granny. I wish I had gotten a chance to make soup for her. I think she would be proud. I have never mastered her biscuits...but I can make a mean cornbread.
....ummm what's for dinner.....
Monday, January 11, 2010
Who is that?
Disclaimer: If you are thinking I am going to be funny or light hearted in this note...I am not. This note it a letter to myself about what I have done to myself. I am sending it to you as a possible accountability thing. If it is out there....I KNOW it is out there.
Yesterday in church....I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the sunglasses of the guy in front of me. His fancy Oakley's were resting on the back of his neck the way so many men wear them. I saw this woman and truly did not know it was me. My first thought was...who is that? Ha...it was me. I was disgusted. Do I actually not see the truth? I truly feel about inside...right there on the spot. What in the hell is wrong with me? It is NOT okay for me to be this way. Please God help me get control.
I have always struggled with my weight. In high school, I thought I was fat because all of my friends were smaller than me. I wore a size 7/8 PEOPLE. That is not fat. My wedding dress was a 6. That is not fat. Nevertheless, I though everyone was looking at me because I was fat.
I began to gain weight when I was pregnant with my oldest. And so it goes. I wish I could be one of those people who loves themself for what they are, fat and all. I am not. I do not like myself. It shows. I do not take care of myself and that medicine in my cabinet shows that too. I am falling apart and doing nothing about it.
I am 43. I have, anxiety, high blood pressure, high cholestrol, arthritis, chest pains, carpal tunnel and who in the hell knows what else. I understand that sometimes when we get older, we let ourselves go. We get comfortable with life. I have been "comfortable" too long.
My weight keeps me from hanging out with friends. I have become a recluse in some ways. I want to go "home" and visit friends and family that I haven't seen in years...but I will not. I am embarassed. I would love to sing at church, but I will not dare. I think my family is ashamed of me. I think my friends are ashamed. I wonder why anyone would even like or love me. I don't have issues....I have a subscription. My mama tells me I am beautiful and my husband tells me that I have the biggest heart of anyone he knows. All I see is the someone who can't wear a cute bra or cute jeans.
I am wallering in my sadness. No one has force fed me or held me down so I wouldn't exercise. I can blame no one but me, but I am so sad. So disappointed in me.
I have always thought it was selfish to pray for God to help me with my weight. There are so many other things out there for Him to worry about. I need help. I need accountability.
I will try not to write sad notes, but I have to be real. I will journal this journey. If you do not want it...please tell me. I understand. I will, however, take all of the tips and encouragement I can get. I have done every diet in the book but now I will start with little things. Little victories. This is truly personal for me.
I love you all,
Barefoot in Bows,
Lori
Yesterday in church....I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the sunglasses of the guy in front of me. His fancy Oakley's were resting on the back of his neck the way so many men wear them. I saw this woman and truly did not know it was me. My first thought was...who is that? Ha...it was me. I was disgusted. Do I actually not see the truth? I truly feel about inside...right there on the spot. What in the hell is wrong with me? It is NOT okay for me to be this way. Please God help me get control.
I have always struggled with my weight. In high school, I thought I was fat because all of my friends were smaller than me. I wore a size 7/8 PEOPLE. That is not fat. My wedding dress was a 6. That is not fat. Nevertheless, I though everyone was looking at me because I was fat.
I began to gain weight when I was pregnant with my oldest. And so it goes. I wish I could be one of those people who loves themself for what they are, fat and all. I am not. I do not like myself. It shows. I do not take care of myself and that medicine in my cabinet shows that too. I am falling apart and doing nothing about it.
I am 43. I have, anxiety, high blood pressure, high cholestrol, arthritis, chest pains, carpal tunnel and who in the hell knows what else. I understand that sometimes when we get older, we let ourselves go. We get comfortable with life. I have been "comfortable" too long.
My weight keeps me from hanging out with friends. I have become a recluse in some ways. I want to go "home" and visit friends and family that I haven't seen in years...but I will not. I am embarassed. I would love to sing at church, but I will not dare. I think my family is ashamed of me. I think my friends are ashamed. I wonder why anyone would even like or love me. I don't have issues....I have a subscription. My mama tells me I am beautiful and my husband tells me that I have the biggest heart of anyone he knows. All I see is the someone who can't wear a cute bra or cute jeans.
I am wallering in my sadness. No one has force fed me or held me down so I wouldn't exercise. I can blame no one but me, but I am so sad. So disappointed in me.
I have always thought it was selfish to pray for God to help me with my weight. There are so many other things out there for Him to worry about. I need help. I need accountability.
I will try not to write sad notes, but I have to be real. I will journal this journey. If you do not want it...please tell me. I understand. I will, however, take all of the tips and encouragement I can get. I have done every diet in the book but now I will start with little things. Little victories. This is truly personal for me.
I love you all,
Barefoot in Bows,
Lori
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