Tremendous Blondette

I ended up starting a new blog for all of my “I’m soo fat! *waaaah waaaah waaahh*” posts. On it, I actually will talk about my continued quest to eat healthy and figure out how to incorporate exercise back into my life. Here’s the URL: http://fatladykatie.wordpress.com/

It’s the busy season at work (yes, I know it’s always busy, but this is the busiest!) so I’m doing a lot more traveling and pulling longer (yes, it’s possible) hours than usual. I struggled earlier this year with balance and motivation. As I approach my 30th birthday I spend more time evaluating my goals and the current state of my life. I’ve devoted my twenties to my career, but I also know that as a woman, the longer I wait to fulfill my other goals/dreams of having a family, the harder it will be to fulfill them. It’s scary. It’s scary to think that I may never have those other things and that I will have to seek purpose and joy from my career alone. I’m pretty sure the consistent weight gain of the past 7 months is directly correlated to my stress over my life evaluation. I stop and wonder “who’s going to want me?” It depresses me so I put it out of my mind and focus on something else – thus avoiding the problem all together.

So, what do you do readers? How do you face the music?

Also, I’m blonde again.

Yesterday when I walked into Subway, I was focused on getting a gigantic glass of iced tea. Up early, I’d had coffee and shopped by way from 10am to Noon- thirty and I was now very thirsty. My little sinus infection may have played a role in that thirst. (side note: after only a couple doses of antibiotics, I already feel better.)

I’ve never encountered a line longer than 2 people at this particular Subway, but yesterday I waited behind a couple, a man with two sons all decked out in baseball uniforms, and a mother with two young boys. My focus was quickly drawn to the mother and sons. For one, the smaller of the two boys was buzzing around the shop from the window, to his mom, to a table, to the cooler case. The older boy stayed with his mom and absorbed her protective, affectionate embrace. I could imagine what a tiring job it would be to be this woman. I view mothers and children with different eyes lately. A thin veil of fear and realization that you are in tune to someone else completely . You are never alone. Me? Can I do that? I’ve never doubted wanting children. But never before have a I realized how much you change your life for children. I watched a mother and father at Target on Friday evening – a 2 year old boy in one cart and a baby in another. The mother expertly divided her attention and spread her warm adoration to both of her children. This was a prettier picture. They wanted to get in the aisle where I’d stowed my cart (if you’ve ever been to the pharmacy at the Super Target on 152, you’ll understand why I would be stowing my cart in an aisle while I waited my turn at the counter.) I was next up at the counter, but I risked my place in line to exit the row and “go around the long way” up another aisle in order to let the family into the aisle. I thought of how some of my friends might react; probably wouldn’t be quite so accommodating. But, after all, it wasn’t “hard” to move and what would it have accomplished had I not moved? Maybe the family shouldn’t expect me to move just because they hadn’t properly planned or were logistically challenged and had chosen to use 2 carts, but does that mean I couldn’t or shouldn’t move. Digression.

The thing I noticed almost immediately about the mother at Subway? Though she was dressed in a simple outfit of jean shorts and a tshirt, baby weight still clinging to her stomach and thighs ardently, she was strikingly beautiful. Raven colored hair (looked like it was assisted) simply made up face, but the opposite of carefree branded on her face. She didn’t look like she knew she was a beautiful creature and she didn’t look “happy.” I pondered “how can I let her know how pretty she is without being creepy?” Wouldn’t that make her feel nice? To be noticed for HER.

I’d been at Old Navy before I decided to visit Subway, and I saw person after person who had some beauty that was likely not appreciated. There was a young girl in early puberty wearing ill fitting clothes that did nothing but show off her less than svelte form. But when you really looked at the girl, you saw she had luscious naturally blonde hair and an angelic face. This girl was a beauty. I felt a little sad for her because her mother was not setting a good example or helping her look her best. Had you put the girl in the little sundress that I was in line waiting to pay for, the first impression would have been completely different. From raggamuffin to lovely.

And before you say something about beauty being on the inside and it doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside, I cry BULLSHIT. You cannot simply ignore the sociological impact of your appearance and impression. However, you should stop and truly look at people. I’m not talking about always wearing the most fashionable clothes, always wearing makeup, or being done up. I’m simply talking about wearing clothes that fit, having confidence, and being comfortable in your skin.

I like people who have a sense of self. It is the defining feature in my friendships and relationships.

I’m still trying to figure out how I can tell people of their loveliness without being creepy. I’ll let you know when I figure it out – or I’ll creep you out.

Stumbling up the stairs looking kind of like Frankenstein’s Creature lumbering awkwardly with arms outstretched- picture it. That’s me.

Two Saturday’s ago I was lying on my couch trying to stay awake. I could have slept the day away. Instead, I put on my tennis shoes and moved it, moved it. (Yes, I quoted cartoon animals.) I sucked up the sunshine and moved my body into a state of awakeness.

And Sunday came and I did it again.

And Monday came and I did it again.

Tuesday and Wednesday brought rain.

Thursday and Friday brought illness.

But Saturday…well, Saturday brought a goal. I decided I was going to walk at least 5 miles. A perfectly symmetrical forehead sunburn and 2 or so hours later, I’d walked 7-8 miles around my northland neighborhood. When I got home I realized that my bangs had been sticking out for more than half the walk because I’d moved my headband down to my hairline. (hence the symmetry of the burn.)

I’ve learned a few things and I think my butt is tighter. Did you know that people put a lot of crap in their garages and leave the door open so you can see it all? Yep. Did you know there are a ton of cops in my neighborhood. Yep. (I live fairly close to a police station.) Did you know you’ll see natural prairie grass- right by my house? Oh, and there’s a random body of water just down the street? And there’s a little puppy who looks like a fox.

But just so you know, there are hills here and you can pull muscles walking.

How do you keep a blonde occupied for hours? Give her a bag of M&Ms and tell her to alphabetize them.

*groan*

I used M&Ms as study aids in college which became a bad habit. But when you’re sitting at a desk for hours, composing, editing, typing, trying to stay focused and productive (though your productively has always been bursty) you need something to do to stay away and use your fidgety energy. I can sit down and easily eat half a 12 oz bag of Almond of Peanut in one sitting. They start to lose their original deliciousness, but you keep popping them in, hoping that the next one will bring that same first delight.

This is a confession of a bad habit. It’s so unhealthy and I’m telling you about it because I just ate a fraction of a bag of M&Ms for no reason. I’m starting to think I’ve got some sort of chemical imbalance right now because I’m always wanting to eat.

Sometimes I don’t want to eat. Not lately. Lately all I can think about is food. I’m torn between whether this is stress induced – a comforting mechanism or just a simply my body being confused.

I know I write about food, body image, and exercise a lot. I am kicking around starting a separate blog to write about this quest. When I did so well those 5 years ago, part of my success was the community I had where I could talk about my struggles and accomplishments. The other factor was my LiveJournal for recording thoughts and feelings. Granted, it was a lot easier to devote my life to this when I was only working part time (well at the end I was working 40 hrs a week but that seems like part time to me now) and I could get up and work out at my optimal time (10am – 2pm; kinda hard to fit that into a normal work week.)

What do you think? Separate blog, or keep it here?

And that picture? It’s from my brother’s wedding. I’m the fat one of course!

A phenomena that I’ve observed since adulthood – things I would say, do, or feel are different based on the time of day. I don’t wake up wanting to go to happy hour in the evening. I feel like sitting in my big red chair with coffee and my laptop until my own odor motivates me to bathe.

What I write in a post is different based on the time of day and I often work on a post several times before I actually publish it so it gets some of the morning me and nighttime me. Balance, just for you. *wink*

I am much more forthright at night or after half a pot of coffee. (or 10 drinks) I’ve discovered an inability to share specific thoughts and feelings only in certain situations. Work and family – you got it. Friends and “friends” – there is a hesitation at times – a fear.

That same shield I use in those relationships covers this blog. I could write with greater directness and clarity at times, but to what end?

When I was 10, 12, 18, who knows at this point, I used to soak up the sunshine with CMT or the radio and just absorb the time. Today, as I work through all of the clothing and linens I own (Day 2!) it’s the same feeling – years later, my gut hurts, my lungs twitch, and my eyes water. Looking through my cousin’s pictures on Facebook, seeing her life and knowing the somewhat normal path she will have puts me in a little bit of a funk.

One of my biggest hangups in life, the one for which I’m still stuck, is the normalcy the “how did I deviate from that?” Why not me? I tried to catch up very quickly in college and succeeded in only superficial ways. It wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t what I needed. And then I gave up. I lost hope. And the I regained it…and lost it. I continue to live this cycle.

I’m letting the sun into my bedroom and I look out and see a man running and something inside kicks. (no, I’m not pregnant) I try too hard to make things happen. To make them what I picture. To make them what I see around me.

On a good note, I’m organizing and purging so I’m not hanging on to old things. But what do you do when there’s old stuff you want to hang on to? Stuff you shouldn’t. Stuff you should put down in peace.

At what point do we both feel and express our emotions – fully, deeply – and at what point do we let our rational thought quell the emotional bits? When is it okay to feel and act without restraint? And if we never let ourselves feel or act, do we cheat ourselves and keep spinning, a blur of hope, joy, love, fear, anger, disappointment and sadness?

Why, it’s my birthday too!

Here are some facts that would lead you to believe you are Katie Leas, born February 21, 1981:

1. Your legal name is Catherine Marie
2. You were almost named Sarah (nobody doesn’t like!)
3. You were named after both of your great-grandmothers on your mom’s side and your grandmother on your father’s side (middle name)
4. Your 30th birthday is next year on a national holiday- President’s Day
5. shit, did you just say 30?
6. The doctor wasn’t so sure you were coming out – his name? Dr. Mabee.
7. You were born on a military base.
8. You were a temperate and happy baby who liked mud puddles and sitting in baskets.
9. Catherine with a “C,” Katie with a “K” – confusing people on the other end of the phone for 29 years.
10. You learned your real first name sometime before kindergarten and subsequently when there were 2 Katie’s in your class, you spoke up and said, your real name was Catherine and you could go by that.
11. aka: Kate Marie, Katie Duwee (really need to ask my godparents about that one), Bubbles/BubblesMcGee, Kat, Princess Mary LaLa
12. You share a birthday with your aunt- Happy Birthday Mary Kay!
13. Your best birthday so far was your 21st because you were surrounded by so many friends.
14. Your worst birthday was your 26th.
15. You’re thankful your parents didn’t stop after Brian.
16. You were 3 weeks late. See, Tammi, I’ve actually improved!
17. The Showbiz Pizza robot band is still scary!!!

Me when I was still fresh.

When I can’t sleep, I compose. Once, I swear I composed an entire symphony in my N1 sleep. It may have been a dream mixing with the classical music station that I was fond of listening to before bed at that time of my life. Regardless, I often compose posts, conversations, and schedules when my brain is supposed to be slowing down for the day. Common problem for the insomnia driven – you are tired, but your brain doesn’t cooperate. About 95% of the time, once I write to you all (in my head) and put all my “to-dos” in order (okay, I usually have to go through it a few times so I remember and just out of pure anxiety), I drift off.

During particularly stressful and busy weeks at work, my dreams mirror my days and are cast with work colleagues, clients, and settings. So, no matter how hard I try, I just don’t quite shut off completely.

Last night, Saturday night, I stopped and reflected on my compositions. You see, most of the time, I don’t carry out three quarters of my “to-dos.” I become so one track focused on work that I do not keep up with anything else. And then I wear myself out thinking about it, feeling guilty about it. Imagine, I thought, if I were to just do one of those things. Imagine if when I came home, I took 15 minutes to do laundry, 5 minutes to clean the litter boxes, 5 minutes to clean the kitchen. Let’s just say half an hour of chores. Well, that’s not too much time to take away from my work and it could quite certainly be about the same amount of time my weary self lies awake composing.

So, that’s what I’m going to work on. I’m going to try and I’m going to see it reduces my stress level.

I’m still putting my house together, but today my new couch, chair, and ottoman arrived! Special thanks to my cousin Kiera and uncle Jim for hanging out at my house and waiting for the delivery people so I could be a workaholic! (it was a productive day!)

The furniture is nice and cozy, soft and comfy. Note the strategic position of the chair and ottoman near the fireplace. Accident, I think not. I may do some additional angling of the couch and chair once I take the Christmas tree down. Oh, and yes, I need to put something on my walls.

(PS. The lamp you can kind of see in the last picture is the same lamp you can see in Penny’s apartment on The Big Bang Theory. I had it first.)

ADMIRE MY PICTURES…NOW!

Katie Leas has a lovely living room as you can see from the comfort of her chair. Yes, that is Glee on the tv.

My mantle is pretty.

This might become part of my next header. This is the view from my new chair.

Katie is all growed up and has a new living room set - yes, new furniture. I shall know the origins of all stains!

Fear can hold you back or make you stronger. It is your choice. Okay so I’m still afraid of or don’t enjoy heights or amusement parks but I tried them. I faced them.

Here’s a few fears I plan to address in 2010 – with a giant RAWR right in their faces – there might even be a little spit too.

1. Personal trainer. I have always been too wimpy and self indulgent to try working with a personal trainer. I’m afraid of being pushed, being uncomfortable, being less than great at something, and not being in control. The sad thing is by giving in to that fear I cheat myself of the progress and strength I could be gaining.

2. Telling people how I feel. Yep. I have trouble with simple stuff. I tend to fear rejection and ridicule and make myself less open.

When I was in my final year of college, I needed motivation to get through my courses. I took more than a full load to ensure I’d be able to finish in time for Spring Graduation. Most people know my college story, how I showed up and quit the band, changed my major, lost and gained friends, and then gained a social life and finally started maturing in ways I hadn’t in high school. (My first kiss was in a bar fueled by well rum.) So, let’s move past that and go on to Year 5. (yes, remember part of the story is ruining a year of school due to socializing. ahh, lessons learned.)

Year 5 started with a switch in residence. I was living with several other girls in a house off campus, but drama ensued and I moved in with my brother for a few weeks and then moved back into the dorms on campus. I took a summer intersession class on Death and Human Behavior that was very educational, but after the drama that had ensued also left me on the south side of happy. Coupled with my capstone course on the journals of war veterans, I was questioning quite a few things.

I devoted myself to school and actually attended classes and completed assignments. I also carried on a relationship with someone long distance over the Internet. When we met in person I realized I didn’t know myself at all, or didn’t value myself very much.

I won’t say that meeting people online or having friends online is bad. I actually know a lot of people that I met online. I also carried on a friendship long distance online that proved critical to my success in school. This friend reminded me of the endgame and why I shouldn’t give up or half-ass school. There were classes that I hated but had to take (PED 100.) For the most part, my courses that final year were all interesting and valuable, but they happened to just pile up at the end. I was in a do or don’t graduate with the basic computer class requirement (I never took the basic computer class because let’s face it, yawn. My options were to test out of the requirement or take the class the next summer. True to form, I put myself in this situation and knew there was no way I was taking that class in the summer. Thankfully, my experience the previous 4 years taught me enough about computers to pass the exam. Scrape.)

I also put myself in a neat situation with my math requirement. I enjoy math. I still do multiplication and division long hand except when I’m at work or don’t have a writing stick or paper. I do a lot of squirrely math to figure out any number of things like how much my personal property tax will be, or my household budget. Having taken every possible math course offered by my high school and achieving an A in each I knew I wasn’t going to take a basic college math course in college. I signed up for the 5 credit hour calculus 1 (the one that math and science majors took and not a place where many English majors ventured) and figured it would be fairly easy. There is nothing more humiliating (okay there is but this is well placed hyperbole) than failing at something you’ve successfully done before. Like weight loss. I attempted to retake the class a couple more times and failed each time resulting in 5 credit hours of D on my transcript. Resolved that I was  better than my DDDDD (knock off a couple Ds and you’ve got my bra size) I decided to give it one last shot. Point of success number one: my teacher was a native English speaker. Point of success number two: my teacher was not obsessed with logarithms. Keep in mind this whole thing was a terrible blow to my  ego. I skated through math my entire life. I got a math award in high school. I taught my teacher in Stats class, where my grade was so high that it didn’t matter that I didn’t take the final. (the beginning of my learned indifference years and the beginning of a low point in my academic career.) So, that C I finally got made me happier than a lot of the A’s of my past.

Taking a a course load that is deemed over full-time requires authorization from the dean. I hauled ass from building to building across campus a few times that year for authorizations of all types. Bureaucracy is good exercise. There’s a reason they make you get permission. Those extra credits create stress and do weird things to your sleep patterns (or lack thereof), social life (or lack thereof), personal fitness (or lack thereof)– I think you get the point. By the end of the semester, I had a multi-page to-do list of yellow legal pad paper. There are events and times in life that shape you, teach you, test you, and refine you. For me, that semester taught me some of the things have become critical to my life and career.