Happy Leap Year Day! I’d normally hate an extra day in the winter months, but the weather is looking fairly decent with a high of 41 degrees, so I’ll shut up about it this time. Take note of that Leap Year 4 years from now.
I saw the movie, Race yesterday. It’s a true story based on the African American track athlete, Jesse Owens, who had to survive being a talented black athlete in 1930s American idiocy and also survive being a black athlete at the 1936 Berlin Olympics with the Hitler regime horror of horrors. He had obstacles put on him from every angle, and yet he rose to every occasion… shut them all up… put his head down and pushed his way to glory. What got to me most was his ability to tune out everything… all of the negative hate-filled people who were nothing more than noise and distraction… to get to his ultimate goal of greatness. It was a great flick. I’d recommend it.
It got me thinking about my worst enemy of all time… myself. That enemy seems to be working overtime of late… hacking away at every moment of pride and self-worth I’ve ever tried to let myself feel. It’s leaps and bounds away from what people like Jesse Owens went through on a daily basis, but it’s my reality and my life, so it’s something I take seriously.
It’s no secret that I’ve not maintained the weight I so diligently worked at for years. In fact I’ve gained… a lot. Not original highest weight a lot, I’m still quite a ways from that sphere of gross numbers, but give me a few years at this pace, and I’ll be back there and have surpassed that number for a new record. I have nothing but disdain for my inability to squash my addiction. It’s an all-consuming thing, food. All-consuming! If I’m not eating it, I’m thinking about it… if I’m not thinking about it, I’m usually stuffing down some emotion with it. It’s something that I’m ashamed of and something I wish to all things holy, I could get rid of for good. It takes a lot for me to stay in this “land of numbness” because numbness is so much easier to deal with than actually having to feel things, and it’s both sides of the feelings, the positive and the negative feelings, all intermixed into one big ball of NUMB!
I really have no idea what this post is about other than to say, I need to learn to tune out Whitney’s brain. It’d be a lot easier if brain transplant surgery was a real thing so that I could borrow some health nut’s brain for a year or two. I’d promise to return it just in time for swimsuit season.
This post is depressing, so here’s some Baby BoBo and Brover E time cuteness:
Hi… I wearing my new swimmy suit:
I’m feeling pretty weak sauce lately… what in the sam hill beans does weak sauce mean? Not sure… but I do know I feel weak sauce. I think weak sauce means total lack of self control in every aspect of one’s life. Get a hold of that sauce, weakling! It’s like the effort is too much to think about, so I don’t think about it. Get what I mean, Merle!? No? Good. Did they ever invent a horse muzzle for a human being? Because I feel like that’s an infommercial I could really get into right about now.
Also, whatever you do… WHATEVER you do, do not start playing the game on Facebook called Kitchen Scramble. I’ve just deleted it for the 55th time because I was so addicted to mindless kitchen scrambling that I started paying actual money to get more lives so I could kitchen scramble longer and longer into the night and ignore my homework and my thoughts and the fact that this is the stupidest game in the history of stupid games, so how stupid does that make me that I’m paying actual money for stupid things? Addictive personalities are for the birds, yo!
In other news, George Clooney is engaged. Adjust your barometers accordingly.
PS – I won’t be posting next Monday as I’ll be out of town at a friend’s wedding in Illinois (what up, Peepster!?) I will be waving at all of the friends in surrounding states while I’m there, though. You will be grateful I don’t know y’alls addresses. Weak Sauce Kitchen Scramble chic is not a great house guest!
Heck yes, that blog title deserved an excessive amount of exclamation pointage! Glory glory hallelujah… Amen! Even if I think the act of Daylight Savings Time should be soooooooooooo null and void in this day and age… good grief, 75% of our population ain’t ever been on a farm, let alone had to get up at the crack of dawn to uh… erm… farmage… I still love me some evening light. It’s like a whiff of a Krispy Kreme donut factory on a trip to the lard plant. And even though I’m not so fond of the fact that we had to lose an extra hour and now my body clock is all skeewampus (yes, it’s a wuss… why do you ask?), I will endure it for the extra lightage it provided me.
Meanwhile, broken record alert… I sat myself down to talk to the voices in my head about my spiraling out of control non-caring-ness when it comes to everything healthy lifestyle. I said, Self… listen up… Then Clyde, the voice in my head who hates when people refer to themselves as “self”, interjected and slapped me upside my noggin. Stop it, Clyde. I really have only 2 choices at this juncture… continue the non-caring-ness and gain even more weight and feel miserable and bloated and old personagey and watch myself balloon up to an uncomfortable clothing size until the earth exlpodes into a bajillioin tiny pieces of Lane Bryant catalogues! OR… and this seems to be the simpler choice… SHUT UP AND DO IT. Thank you, Nike. Meanwhile, I will await my free pair of walking shoes for the mention… at least 3 people read this blog, and that’s including my mom!
Seems an easy choice to me… dagblast it all! The last few days every time I’ve felt the urge to eat something not on the menu, I’ve given myself those above-mentioned choices outloud… which seems to help for now… even if I got heck-if-she-shouldn’t-be-wearing-a-strait-jacket stares in the grocery store aisles on Saturday. I’m certifiable… deal with it! America… the land of the free and the home of the whack-a-doos!
This guy stomped through the yard the other day with a friend I didn’t get a good picture of with antlers… except for the fact that said friend was missing the antler on his right side. Poor antlerish dear deer. He must be so off balance when he tries to get up in the morning! I did get a boring video of one-antler dude… I was having a nonstimulating wrist issue day and he was a phenomenon apparently.
PS – For those who have expressed interest in attending a performance of The Garden where I attempt to portray an old and barren Olive Tree majig, this is the link for the tickets. I know for a fact that they haven’t advertised said link, so the pickings are plentiful. I’m sure they’ll still be plentiful after any advertisement, but a girl wouldn’t be a car salesman if she said that outloud! Now, who wants to buy a Mercedes?
This winter is making me have a huge-mongous case of the crankies. I’ve never liked cold and snow and inversion pollution air… except that one time I dreamt I’d become the Olympic bobsledding Jamaican champion… errrr… okay! Add a broken wrist, anemic spells requiring expensive iron infusions, and a neverending inversion and you all might as well slap a sticker on my rump roast and call me Depressa…. bahahahaha… that rhymes with Dessa. Why do I let it affect me? We’re supposed to choose our attitude/happiness scale… and here I am choosing to be a big blob of depressa. I gotta admit, depressa does not come with a side of motivation. If I had my druthers, I’d sleep 24/7… except for the other part of the 24/7 where I’d eat. I manage to do my required day-to-day activities… shower, go to work, do my Biology and Literature homework (begrudgingly), but the desire to do anything to get the happies (aka exercise) is null and void.
I have a ton of excuses too… all great ones… like the time I couldn’t ride the boring recumbent bike in the basement because it was too cold outside… yes, I said the bike was in the basement. Or the time I decided lifting my 2-pound wrist weight in my right hand constituted a full on cardio session. I miss the blue sky. I miss the sunshine. I miss WARMTH! I miss being outside, but I’m petrified to walk around outdoors when there’s snow on the ground 2-1/2 feet deep that’s been sitting around since December. I don’t trust myself. I hyperventilated the other day when my car required a snow/ice scraping so I could drive it and see out the windows because there was that same patch of ice right next to the driver side door where I fell the first time. Get back on the horse, Tonto… and RIDE!
This feeling of unsure Whitney is very reminiscent of the years I sat on my tookus and gained hundreds of pounds… and I don’t like it one bit. It’s a strange phenomenon, this thing we call life… one little thing can roll along and whip you right back down 7 rungs on the ladder of success. What’s changed? My confidence level for one. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a success on the scale… a long while… it’s mostly visions of gains… and not the kind of gains you can attribute to sodium intake or water weight. Gains that require ingestion of wayyyyyy too many calories whilst sitting around reminiscing on your uneven nostril holes. Who needs paint drying when you gots you some uneven nostril holes!
It’s not like I have no successes to celebrate. After flunking out of college Biology 10+ years ago, this time around I’m doing well. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t enjoy the study of life… I can tell I’m living when I’m breathing… leave all the scientific mumbo jumbo for Bill Nye the Science Guy… but I’ve been able to pay attention to the lectures and the book reading and the myriad of assignments and quizzes that class throws at me… and I have a great grade so far (knock on wood). There were years where I thought I couldn’t pass a college-level science class, but I’m proving myself wrong right there. Give yourself credit for that, Whitney… maybe those little credits will spur on the other things in your life you want to get back into. We all fall off the path of rockstar once in a while… it’s those who work to find their way back who marry David Bowie in the Neverending Story…. errrr… that was in the same dream where I won the Jamaican bobsled team thing… ignore it!
QUESTION OF THE DAY: Pat yourselves on the back publicly… what are some little things you’ve accomplished recently?
This was the inversion on a good day.
I made a few notes when I was outlining what my posts for this week would be… next to this particular topic… 2 words… HOG! BUTT! That pretty much sums it up. The End! Thanks y’all for stopping by to read, friends. Have a fabulous Mondee!
I’m feeling particularly gourdly lately. Like all swelly and gourdly and portly… puffy… porkified? How many P words can I use to insult myself. Stay tuned to find out! Part of it is because I’m a stress-eating, maniacal Jaclyn the Ripper… the other part of it is because I’m fat… but nicely. So, it turns out when one hypothetical person runs out of free time and is behind in textbook reading/homework, that same hypothetical person eats… because hypothetically that’s what emotional eaters do. They eat to bury the emotion. What would it hurt if this hypothetical idiot just sat for a while and felt the stress? Or what would it hurt if I… errrr… the hypothetical person talked herself through the stress instead of stuffing it down to meet up with the gangrenous portion of her toes? It probably wouldn’t hurt at all… except for the fact that would require me to have more stress trying to find time to do above-mentioned coping mechanisms.
I’m sure if I sat my gourdly butt down and actually planned out my day, I’d find all sorts of free time… but one doesn’t see that in the moment… and clearly most every last one of you reading this here violin solo are 3000000000 times busier than I am with kids and work and everything else piled on top of the Aqua-Netted bangs, but y’all still find time to do everything and then bake a bundt cake for the school cake drive! SOMEONE GIVE ME YOUR SUPER POWERS!! I’m a weak individual… and kind of complainy… and anxiety-ridden, which is probably where most of the stress comes from… making a mountain out of a tiny ant farm (mole hills are so 2005)!
So, to sum it up. CHILL THE HECK OUT, WHITNEY!!!!!!! Good crimeny, you’re making Sybil look normal! All I know is I have no patience for this slippery slope of bad habits in eating I seem to have jumped back onto. Also, note to self… CHILL THE HECK OUT!
Question of the Day: How do you handle stress?
**** Happy Birthday (yesterday) to my long-time pal, Alena!! It’s a rule that you’re supposed to eat like a HOG!BUTT! and sit on your patookus on your birthday. Non-negotiable!