the fat girl filter

On my running message board today, someone posed the following question: are you doing what you thought you'd be doing 10 years ago? Are you on track to where you hope to be in 10 years?

My answer basically was that I would never have predicted where I am now. Back then, I was single, overweight, no confidence, and a new social worker. Other than still being single, everything else is different. I then went on to post a link to a photo from 10 years ago (almost to the week). A couple people commented, saying "you are such an inspiration", referring to my weight loss.

I posted the photo because I thought it was funny how goofy I looked back then with my short curly (permed) hair and big glasses. I was even hoping that other people would post photos of how they looked 10 years ago.

I was not fishing for compliments, so when I read them, I was worried that my friends on the board would think "geez, is she posting before/after photos again?" That behind their computer screens, they would be rolling their eyes, and generally think I was being tiresome. That was my initial reaction, anyway. I realized quickly that I was being an idiot and that my friends still like me and (probably) do not think I am a bore.

So I started thinking about why the comments bothered me in the first place. I guess it is because I do not yet know how much I want to be defined by my weight loss. I want to be known as "Kris, the funny/cool/smart/fun woman", not "Kris, the woman who lost 160+ pounds". And yet, I'll never NOT be that 2nd version of Kris, because it is as much of who I am as the 1st version.

I think to some extent, my reactions to life and to people are always going to be influenced by the experiences I had as an obese woman. My reaction today to the compliments was triggered by negative events in my past. It had nothing to do with who my current friends are, or who I am.

I resent that my past continues to have so much of a negative influence over my life. Still, at least now I can usually identify when my initial reaction does not actually fit the current situation. That gives me hope that over time, I'll learn to interpret life without the "fat girl" filter.

a little humor

I love this particular webcomic, which has all sorts of lovely geeky humor. I do not always understand it, particularly when the subject is high level math or computer programming, but it is fun.

This one seems rather appropriate to my blog this week. I figured it was a good time to take a break from all the deep posts. With as cold as it has been, I would not really want to be nailed by a Super Soaker. ;-) But, expect me to continue a little more with the Friday musings in future posts.

musings continued

I ran 8 miles this morning, mostly solo. I run relatively slow (that distance took me almost exactly 1.5 hrs), and since I rarely run to music, it gives me plenty of time to think.

Last night's post was prompted in part because I had read Sarah Ferguson's autobiography. You know, Fergie. The Duchess of York. I always liked and admired her spirit more than I did Princess Diana's, and so I was interested to learn about who she really was. I read the entire book in a single evening.

I got to thinking about how the fairy tale for her ended up being a nightmare. Not because of the man she married, but all the trappings that went with his position as a prince. It truly ended up being a trap for her and killed her marriage, despite the fact that they still loved each other (and I believe they still do, 10+ years following the divorce).

When I was a girl, my favorite show (and favorite game of make-believe) was Little House on the Prairie. My favorite books were that entire series, and later Little Women. I identified with Laura and Jo, who were imaginative, active girls who tried to maintain their identities despite pressures to conform to the more "ladylike" standards of the day. For the most part, they succeeded.

My sister (who was my partner in the Little House make-believe) has 3 daughters. Their idols? The Disney princesses. Whose identities and worth are ultimately determined by the fact that they get their prince.

No thanks. I don't need a prince or a knight in shining armor. Someone who will join me on some adventures and have fun and be a partner? Yeah, I'll take one of those instead.

Friday night musings

You know, I never really wanted the fairy-tale.

But I'm ready for the action-adventure now.

40 laps

1...2...3...4...5...6...7...*click*
1...2...3...4...5...6...7...*click*
1...2...3...4...5...6...7...*click*

(break)

1...2...3...4...5...6...7...*click*
1...2...3...4...5...6...7...*click*

That was my evening tonight, running at the gym. I am in training for a couple half-marathons in the spring, and it was too cold and dark for me to want to run outside tonight. Yes, I am a wimp, at least when it comes to my lonely weekday runs. I'll endure all sorts of horrible weather for my Saturday group runs.

My gym has an indoor track that is 8 laps to the mile in the one lane. So, I count my laps, and press the button on my fancy sport watch at the end of every 8th lap to get the time for the mile. I was originally scheduled to run 3 miles tonight, but I skipped my 2 mile run yesterday because I felt just too relaxed after yoga. I decided to tack them on tonight and actually followed through, which is amazing because I usually want to gouge my eyes out after 3 miles on the track. That explains the timing of my break. I stopped for some water, and then walked 2 laps before running the final 2 miles. I also walked 2 laps before and after the run, for an actual total of 46 laps.

If you are getting the idea that running on that track is tedious, you are correct. But, I have an mp3 player that also has an FM radio receiver, and I listened to part of All Things Considered, all of Marketplace, and the beginning of News & Notes, courtesy of my local NPR station. Plus, I can look down to the level below and watch people (mostly guys) play raquetball. I was suitably distracted.

At least I didn't have to run those miles on the treadmill. *shudder*

Roe v. Wade

35 years ago today, the Supreme Court handed down its decision in the Roe v. Wade case.

At the time, my mother was 2.5 months pregnant with me. I was never in any danger of not-being (I am from a large Catholic family), but I have thought about the timing of the decision as it relates to me more than once over the years.

When I was growing up, I remember my mom only ever specifically saying anything about abortion one time. We were in her bedroom having a chat about something, and she said something along the lines of she and my dad would be very disappointed if I ended up pregnant (as a teen), that we would have to discuss what would happen, but that abortion was out of the question.

I told her not to worry, that I would not want one anyway.

I still consider myself Catholic, and attend church semi-regularly. I do disagree with the Church's position on birth control, and several other big issues.

And I am pro-choice.

To this day, I would not choose personally to have an abortion except if my life were in danger. I pray to God that I never have to face that situation because it would utterly break my heart. But I cannot in good conscience make that decision for another woman.

One of my college friends, also Catholic, saw things in black-and-white, and I remember once he said that the only reason that women get an abortion is because the pregnancy is inconvenient. I was in a social work graduate program at the time, and I almost hit the roof. While I never counseled any women with crisis pregnancies, I can imagine many situations in which a woman might see abortion as her only choice. I am not God, who am I to judge?

I realize that some of you who will read my blog will disagree with me. That is your right. But consider this: as a society we do not truly value women. And because of that, there will always be women who have to face this awful decision. The least we can do is ensure that she has safe, legal means of securing an abortion if she decides that it is her only choice.

p.s. This post is not intended to start a debate, although I realize my topic is controversial. There are other, more appropriate places where you can debate the issue to your hearts content. If you wish to disagree politely, feel free, but I will not engage in a tit-for-tat and I reserve the right to delete any abusive comments.

spring cleaning in the dead of winter

I've been doing a lot of mental and emotional spring cleaning over the past few months (part of the genesis of this blog in fact). Now, I'm doing the real thing.

I moved into my apartment nearly 5 years ago. At that point, it was my 15th move in 11 years, starting with leaving home for college as a freshman. At the time, I swore that I would not move again unless I was either (a) moving in with a boyfriend/husband; (b) buying my own house; or (c) moving out of central Ohio. I was tired of packing things and unpacking my things and hauling them around.

My little apartment is about the size of a postage stamp, but the layout is such that I don't feel cramped. However, I do have limitations on storage, and one thing that I forgot in those years of moving all the time is how much stuff accumulates when you stay put for awhile. Cue George Carlin During those years, I never lived more than 2 consecutive years in the same place, and when I moved, I tried to declutter as much as possible.

I certainly have tidied my apartment in the 5 years I have lived here, but I have not purged the excess clutter that has accumulated in that time. It's time.

Since I am not planning on moving anytime soon (note that I have not met any of the 3 above self-imposed conditions), "spring cleaning" is the only way to actually initiate such a purge. Of course, contrary person that I am, I chose to begin on the coldest weekend of the year. My sister and her family just moved down to this area this weekend, and we rented a storage unit together, as both of us had items that we want to keep but do not use on a constant or regular basis (camping gear, holiday decorations, etc).

Now that some big items are out of the way, I can go through the rest of my things and decide what I really need or not. Some things are reminders of old friends and family or significant events in my life, some is just junk. I have to remind myself that nostalgia is all well and good, but if the object in question is no longer significant to me, then it is time to let it go.

I love my job

I work at a university as an academic advisor. A few days ago, I received an e-mail from a student I've never seen before and who was referred to me by an advisor in another department. It was a fairly routine request, where the student asked if there was any way out of the foreign language requirement, which was the last thing standing in the way of this student receiving a degree. It is very difficult to get approval for such a request, and I responded as such to the student, but suggested that we could discuss it in person and I would help submit the paperwork.

I received a follow-up e-mail, explaining the reason for the request.

That 2nd e-mail convinced me that this student deserved that consideration, more than almost any other student I have helped in the past 5 years at this job. In fact, due to the circumstances, I could not in good conscience require the student to come see me in person. I submitted a petition on the student's behalf to substitute courses this student had already taken in place of a foreign language, and included my own statement strongly supporting it. The dean approved the petition immediately. The student will be awarded the degree in March, without needing to take any more courses.

Given the nature of the situation, I would not be surprised if the student thought they would never be able to earn the degree. Already the student had been away from school for a couple years. In the course of 3-4 e-mails, and a little bit of time on my part, I just made a huge impact on a student's life.

That is the coolest feeling in the world.

WW

I rejoined Weight Watchers today, after being away from it for about 6 months. I didn't do too badly on my own (read: I didn't blow it and regain a whole bunch of weight) but I think the structure of the program will help me get back on track. I still have another 12ish lbs to lose to reach my goal. Fortunately, my health insurance will reimburse me 50% of the cost of the meetings that I attend.

PSA

If you can't drive the speed limit on a 2-lane country highway, please switch over to the 4-lane highway 1/2 mile to the east where people can safely pass you while you drive your slow-ass back to Columbus.

I should not be gaining on you while doing 35 mph in a 45 mph zone.

Thank you.

motivation

So, I am a runner. Yesterday, I began formally training for 2 spring half-marathons (that is a 13.1 mile race for the uninitiated). I have a training group through the Columbus Running Company, and the coaches there tailor my training plan to my needs.

Today, my plan called for cross-training (aka XT), which means any form of exercise other than running. It helps to work muscles that running does not. While training for my previous 4 HM's, I was rather casual about XT and more often than not, ignored that aspect of my training. In my last HM, I had a hard time getting in my scheduled runs, and often ran just 1-2 times a week instead of the 3-4 on my plan.

This time, I am trying to be better about XT and keeping up with my training overall. But today, I was tired enough to take 2 naps, and I was cranky to boot. I've done some form of activity, even if just a 1/2 mile walk, every day for the past 10-11 days. I wanted a rest.

Then, I got to thinking about a challenge I am doing over at Kickrunners.com, which has a message board for runners. It is called Virtual Race Across America (VRAA) and I am on a team. I earn points for my team through exercise, including XT.

So, I headed to the fitness room at my apartment complex and put in an hour on the stationary bike and walking the treadmill, all while watching college basketball. I earned points for my team, and burned some calories to boot (remember, I am still trying to lose another 10-15 lbs). And, I felt better after doing it. No more crankiness.

Motivation is a funny thing. A lot of time, it comes from inside, because I do feel good after running or other form of exercise. But, when the internal motivation doesn't work, I will usually respond to peer pressure. I didn't want to let my team down, and really, I'd have been letting myself down if I had opted out of doing something today.

old photos

I happened to be looking through my boxes of photographs this evening, looking for a specific one. As I sorted through the photos, I thought about my friends who are in many of them. Some of them were friends for a period of time, and are now scattered who-knows-where. I'm embarrassed to admit that I have forgotten some of their names.

I also found my photos of my friend Ken, who was murdered nearly 3 years ago. I still miss him, but I can now look at his pictures and smile.

Luana is my oldest friend, we've known each other since we were 8 years old, though we've lived in the same city for maybe 3 total years in all that time. I came across one of my favorite photos of her, a Glamour shots photo from around the time we graduated college. Usually those photos look ridiculous or caricaturish, but Lu is just gorgeous in hers. Neither of us were skinny chicks, but she proved that even fat girls could be sexy and pretty. It isn't just her looks, it is her attitude too. I wanna be like her when I grow up.

Nowadays, I have a digital camera, and I love what I can do with it. But there is something about a real photograph that you can hold in your hand. For me, it makes the memories more tangible. Next time I do something with friends where I want to take a camera, I think I'll take my film camera instead.

not quite flirting

There is a cute new guy in my running group. I spent 15-ish minutes chatting with him tonight at the training group kick-off. It wasn't quite flirting, but it's closer to it than I usually get. I even remembered to smile. :-)

a smile on my face

Tuesdays are fun days in my world. No matter how rough the day it, it almost always ends in a smile.

On Tuesday evenings, I volunteer at my local children's hospital. I help out with activity groups, by escorting children able to come out of their rooms down to the play room, and then help with the activity. Since the group is usually run by the music therapist, most of the time we are doing musical activities. Singing silly songs is a favorite activity for the kids.

Today, we had a very small group of children. Most of the time, it was just one girl who decided to make up her own song while the music therapist played the guitar and I drummed along. Then, she decided to have each of us take turns.

It is awfully hard to make up a song off the top of your head! The playroom has a jungle mural on the wall, which provided our inspiration. I managed to pull something together, and somehow it actually rhymed. I can't remember exactly what I sang, other than that it was about a monkey named Nick who played in the trees. One of the lines was about him looking for bananas and finding peaches instead.

A lot of people ask me if it is sad to volunteer at the hospital, and honestly it is not. At least, not with what I do. I do see children with cancer and other life threatening illnesses, but I do not see the sickest children. What I see are children who just want to be kids and do normal things, like sing, make crafts, play games and read books. They just happen to have IV's, colostomy bags, bald heads, or ride in wheelchairs.

Go Bucks!

why is it that important?

Today at church, I sang a solo. It was a reprise of one I did at Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, for a song that combines What Child is This? with a solo countermelody called Child of the Poor. It is a beautiful song for an alto voice such as myself.

I was not the original soloist for the song, though I badly wanted to sing it. Another woman in our choir was chosen, and I had to really fight a huge surge of disappointment when it happened. Later that rehearsal, I found myself telling a newer member of our group that I love singing alto, but "a long time ago", I used to sing soprano and even once hit a high B-flat.

All of a sudden, I asked myself "why is it that important?" I sang soprano for perhaps 1-2 years, and have happily sung alto for nearly 20. And yet, I have told that story more than once in recent months, and while I usually tell it to someone new, I know some of my fellow altos had heard it and I imagined them rolling their eyes. I was embarrassed by my making a big deal over something that really wasn't that important at all.

You see, I realized what I was doing. I felt unimportant and unappreciated because I never seem to get chosen for the soloist opportunities for the big events (Christmas and Holy Week). Frankly I was bragging about a past achievement that was no longer even relevant in order to feel better about myself. To feel like I did have some value as a musician. B-flat is a wicked hard note to hit, after all, and maybe 1 or 2 of the sopranos in our group could probably hit it themselves. I drove home that night, and was really upset with myself and felt out-of-sorts for a few days. I wanted to talk to someone about it, but the opportunity never came up.

This kind of bragging over something relatively minor is not a new thing with me. I have caught myself doing it many times in my past. Out of all the faults I have, this is the one that bothers me the most. Once I realize I'm doing it, I never do it again with that specific boast. But eventually it happens again, with another story, another situation. I never seem to realize it until I have said the same story over and over again and sometimes not until someone calls me out on it. It pisses me off to know that I keep falling into that same trap, even while knowing I'm susceptible to it. I imagine at some point in the future, it will happen again. I wish I knew how to keep that from happening, but so far, I haven't figured that out.

So how did I end up with the solo after all? The original soloist, Betsy, lost her mother very suddenly about 4 days before Christmas. I volunteered to prepare as an understudy, in case Betsy was unable to do it herself, which is what happened. I had mixed feelings because I admire Betsy's voice, and in some ways feel like she would have done a better job than I. But while I am sad about the circumstances that led me to singing the solo after all, I can at least say that I am happy that I sang it as well as I could.

things I wish I could do...

* glassblowing
* come to a stop on ice skates or inline skates without having to crash myself into the wall or some other immobile object
* speak another language
* fly an airplane (just a little one)
* play piano
* swim
* flirt
* cross-country ski
* understand and enjoy economics and politics
* draw/paint/create art that is more sophisticated than what a 3rd grader can do
* change the oil in my car
* run 8 minute miles
* dance without looking like a complete dork

I guess the cool thing is, I could learn to do every one of these things. I may not be the world's best at any of them, but that wouldn't really be the point anyway.

Adios, Barbie

I am currently reading Adios, Barbie: Young Women Write About Body Image and Identity (Ophira Edut, ed.). I'm curious about how other women perceive themselves, and how they deal with issues of self.

You see, for the past 4 years, I have been on one hell of a ride in terms of who I am and how I perceive myself. On Nov 5, 2003, I weighed 322 lbs. Today I weigh 162, the weight loss a result of dietary changes (via Weight Watchers) and exercise. I want to lose a little more, and stop at around 150 lbs. If it doesn't happen, though, I will be OK with that.

When you read the success stories in magazines or see them on Oprah, there is something that is left out. Nobody tells you that when you lose that much weight, no matter how, it really rocks you to your core. And that wobbly feeling isn't always very comfortable.

I have a lot of ambivalent feelings about my weight loss. I feel much better physically, but I am still working on the mental me. I look like a skinny girl, and the world reacts to me as one. But there is still a fat girl lurking in my head, and that affects my interactions with others. I have to work hard not to let my old assumptions about myself and the world dictate what I choose to do and say.

My identity and sense of self for so long were tied to my weight. Now that the weight is gone, I'm at the "now what?" stage. I've made a lot of changes other than my weight in the past 4 years, and slowly those changes are becoming a part of a familiar me. I am working toward the day when I no longer have to ask "now what?" because I'm already doing it. I want to be like those women who wrote essays for Adios, Barbie, who faced those identity questions head on and found answers that satisfied them.

In the beginning...

I suppose it is cliche to start a blog on January 1, the day that is symbolic of new beginnings. This is something I have considered doing for awhile, but I could not decide what my primary subject would be. I've read running blogs, weight loss blogs, hobby-related blogs, even medical blogs. Nothing felt quite right for me. After all, what could I write about that would be even marginally interesting to anyone else? I have a lot of interests but no overriding passion for one particular thing.

Two primary influences came together to help me finally decide on my blog:

A few months ago, some friends and I did a book study, where we each got a copy of a book designed to help us on a personal journey that we had in common. The book was separated into 100 days worth of short readings. The idea was that we would read each day, and post our thoughts on a private message board. This proved to be a very interesting exercise for me, as it forced me to take a critical look at who I am and how I came to be me.

I also in recent months have started reading memoirs and collections of essays on various topics. I am envious of people who can write well, and tell a story without too many tangents and detours. Reading these books has given me the urge to learn how to write myself.

Thus, here I am. This blog is going to be about all areas of my life, whatever happens to be on my mind at the time. My goal is for it to be more than a chronicle of the minutiae, but instead be a place where I really think about what I want out of life and how I am going to get it if I don't already have it. After all, only I have the power to do anything about my life.