Tag Archives: anxiety

Wimpmeister Whitney…

To those of you giving birth this day… it’s your day… laboring next to an American flag is preferrable today, but if one isn’t available, a bedpan will do.  As for the rest of us, we’ll have to make due on this holiday not for us… change a diaper or something in memorium.  If anyone needs me, I’ll be curled up in the fetal position in the corner with my blanky and a binky.

Meanwhile, I mentioned briefly last week that fall semester started.  I had signed up for my classes, purchased all of my books, and was sitting in a pool of anxiety and dread at the thought of having to take a regular daytime class 3 days a week at my geezerly age of mid-30s.  It’s not geezerly to everyone, I realize, but if you be between the ages of 18 and 22, I might as well be taking my dentures out and walking around in adult diapers in my mid-30s.  I got up Monday morning early and I drug my aspercreme to that class.   Parking was horrendous on the first day and then I passed a dude wearing a pink bunny suit… which nearly made me sprint on back to my vehicle… you seen me sprint lately!?  I didn’t think so.  I made it to the classroom and settled into the back corner… the favorite of all introverted anti-socialites.  Hi Hermit Gertrude!  The professor knows me well.  I had her for Spanish both semesters last year, and I was basically the only student in the Logan classroom amidst 12 TVs from cities all over the state.  She is a sweet lady, but I’m pretty sure I’m older than her by a couple of years as well.  Hi… I’m apparently obsessed with my age.

There were about 30 or so students in that classroom and I was desperately looking around trying to find my fellow geezer compadres… who were not there!  The class consisted of us introducing ourselves to each other in Spanish in pairs of two, rotating out every couple of minutes.  I hated every minute of it.  When I’m shoved into making small talk with new people, I freeze and my brain gets all jumbled and it’s hard for me to get the right words to fit into the right sentence… and that’s when I’m introducing myself in English… my Spanish was rusty after having not touched a book for 4 months, so I mostly sat there and spoke awkward Spanglish… the language of the anxiety sufferers!  Everyone introduced them to me as being 20… I swear to you… every last one of them was 19 or 20… and so for every introduction I just said “muy vieja” (very old) for my age… that is when I could remember those words in my anxiety-seized brain.  One kid actually told me that because I was old, I’d have more world experience and could guide my compadres through the class.  Please shut thy mouth young fry.  When the class was over, I had made up my mind that I wasn’t ever coming back.  And when I make up my mind (which is rarely as I’m the wishy washy queen), it’s a hard sell for me to change it.

That night, I dropped the class and had to absorb the cost of the book since I had signed in using the access code and now no one else could use it.  Wimpmeister Whitney at your service…

Now, the rose-colored glasses part.  I honestly considered not finding another to replace the Spanish class… which would have messed up my graduation plan drastically and I’d have to attend at least a year more than I would have had I stayed in.  I have a handfull of semesters left before I can graduate and in my major I need at least 4 to 5 semesters of a foreign language.  I have 2 semesters of Spanish and if I were to switch to another language, I’d be looking at 3 more semesters of the other language, instead of 4 semesters of Spanish.  I bucked up and signed up for Italian, which is taught online, went up to the bookstore the next day and bought the book.  Honestly, as wimpy as it seems, I feel 10 times better about my decision now that it is done and over with.  Languages are hard for me to learn anyway, and I might as well make it as comfortable on myself as possible.  There are other things I can conquer the introvert issues with… and not be looked at as Grandma Whitney.

The other class is a requirement for one of the goals in my major, History of Jazz music, which is totally up my alley.  I love me some Jazz and it will be interesting to learn the history of it.  No wimping out there.
Here’s some angry BoBo Bourneo for your viewing pleasure.  He was pretty pissed when I told him about the class too!


Filed under School

El Zone-o de Comforto…

Spanglish is the best language said the gringo in the back of the class.

I’ve mentioned how much I adore my comfort zone.  It’s a beautiful place… in my imagination… all decked out in pillows made of pizza (except… no thanks… how uncomfortably gross would that be… wiping off marinara sauce every time you lay down)!  But it’s a pretty zone… somewhere in nature with waterfalls and sunny days chasing the clouds away (five points for whomever can name that song) and trees… gotta have some trees… except they’re birdless in my imagination… either that or the birds do not have a digestive system… because seriously!  There are a few people in my imaginative zone of comfort, but not a ton of people… gotta have some hyperventilating room up in that there joint.

On the edge of my comfort zone lives a mean ogre named Anxiet-eetodd.  He’s ogre-ish because if I happen to cross that line between the comfort and the not-so-comfort, he is waiting with a keg of sugar and an all-you-can-eat Italian smorgasbord.  Stupid ogre.  That’s what happens when you are an emotional eater… rather than deal with the emotion, you eat it away, which is only good for Anxiet-eetodd because he works on commission from the Pillsbury Doughboy… and all I get is a wagon full of lard sauce.

I’ve had a number of comfort zone-crushing moments the last several years.  It’s a good thing to get out of one’s comfort zone, and I need to think of it that way.  Not only will it get me to try new things, but it will also make me face what I hate to face… how to get through feeling an emotion without stuffing it down.

My latest challenge… dancing… in public… with people around!  Close your eyes and picture me dancing.  When you finish laughing your aspercreme off, I’ll let you know it’s exactly as you imagined it.  Somehow, I… Whitney of the Zumba In the Dark With The Blinds Closed… am dancing for the curtain call in the aforementioned Mary Poppins shindig.  I knew they’d rue the day they decided to invite me into their web of talent!  😛  It’s still not too late to back out, FSTC!  I hope there’s a particularly darkened corner somewhere on the stage with my name on it.  We learned part of the Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious dance this week, where-in Whitney nearly took out the whole back row with her skills.  I’ve been practicing it a little bit every single day since.  The steps aren’t that hard once you get them down, it’s the speed at which we have to do them.  If one of the cute smaller dancers twirls around, it’s like they’re walking around a pole.  If I twirl around, I’m at least walking around a block with change.  I’m leaving the dance moves below in the video for your perusal.  Someone who knows how to do the Mexican tequila bean dance on caffeine, jump inside my skin until July would ya’?  😛

Any tips, fellow dancers? (sorry, I couldn’t say that with a straight face… the “fellow dancers” part!)



Filed under Getting A Life, Mary Poppins

Move Over Comfort… Bring On The Awkwardness and Anxiety!

Some of you may remember how I once waxed poetic about my ability to graciously navigate social waters.  BWAHAHAHAHAHA… that never happened.  Instead, I may have mentioned about 8 katrillion times of my penchant for awkwarding up a social situation with two hands tied behind my back.  It’s totes a gift and one that I wear with humiliation and cheese curds!

It turns out a new opportunity has presented itself for me to display my gift of awkward anxiety… cheese curds anyone?  The sweet people of Four Seasons Theatre Company (they who let me become the old olive tree in a production of “The Garden” two years ago) have once again thought of me for a role in their upcoming musical, Mary Poppins.  I wrestled with the decision of whether or not I’d want to audition for an actual role in a play that included scary things like costumes and makeup… and a solo about 3 keys higher than my vocal range of comfort… low and slow… bring it on!  High and die… wear your earplugs!  I had learned of the role about a month before the actual auditions and had made my mind up approximately 18 times that I was and then I wasn’t going to attempt it.  Three days before the audition, I made my mind up that I wasn’t going to do it and I was at peace with the decision.  But then my madre ran into a lady at church connected with the theatre company who told her they hoped I’d audition.  I somehow made it to the audition.  I really don’t think it was on my own two legs or right mind… it was like I was floating along in a trance of “spoon full of sugar” juice.  The audition didn’t go like I wanted it to… I was extra nervous and my high notes were strained and then I somehow messed up the words and stopped my own audition in the middle of it letting them know that they’d heard a plenty.  GREAT DIRECTION, WHITMEISTER!

They put the cast list up tonight:

I’d like to note that I’m coming full circle on my hatred of all things bird… being attacked by an angry turkey when I was 4, accosted by an angry owl, pooped on by a friendly magpie, and countless baby birds falling into my window well is about to go down.  Also, the resemblance is UNCANNY!

The song I sing, Feed the Birds is a lovely song about not judging a book by its cover… and probably a whole lotta other stuff that I haven’t discovered yet.  In other news, apparently I’m typecast at the age of 36 as “old”.  Old Olive Trees and Old Bird Women… I could probably sign up to join the AARP, considering!  Take some deep breaths in and out, Whit-Knee… time to step outta your comfort zone again.  Do it for the love of all things bird!  Thank you for the opportunity, ye’ sweet people of Four Seasons Theatre Company!

This view will never be the same.  This is a picture of the former Golden Toaster church.  Sayanora, historic church and view.  I once broke a pew by sitting on it in this church approximately 15 years ago when I weighed 530 pounds.  That’s probably why they tore it down.  😛

This is how Lucy-Fur sleeps.  It’s pretty freaky.  One eye wide open and snoring.  No one sleeps with their eyes open unless it’s a zombie.  Lucy… you got some ‘splainin’ to do!


Filed under Life


I’m about to embarrass myself right up here in this blog.  Who am I kidding… I’ve been writing embarrassing tidbits since February.  No one needed to know about my addiction to Q-tips or the fact that I’m actually a bobblehead… but it’s out there.  Tie a bow around it and call it Merle.

Meanwhile, it’s no secret that I’ve never been a fan of gyms.  I’ve been to gyms on several occasions throughout my life, had memberships… even had personal trainers… but I’ve never particularly liked them.  So, it’s actually been years since I’ve stepped foot in a gym.  They intimidate me to high heaven and back… all those skinny chicks with silky pony tails who barely sweat giving their all on the stepper.  The muscley dudes hogging up the weight lifting equipment.  And then there’s me… big ole fat sweaty chick with a claustrophobia issue and a germ issue hyperventilating in the corner.  Not my idea of a fun exercising experience… especially when the self consciousness is on high alert.  For the last, I’d say, at least 10 years, I’ve avoided the gym like the plague.  I did my exercising outdoors and in the privacy of the basement, and I told myself I’d never step foot into a gym ever again.

I lied.  What’s new!?

Last week as I was driving to the gym for the first time in 10 years, I found myself bawling.  I didn’t want to go.  I could not bring myself to walk into that place… I couldn’t!  I pulled into the parking lot and I sat in the parking lot for a good ten minutes… bawling… and then I started my car back up and I started for home… telling myself I had a perfectly good recumbent bike sitting in the basement.  I don’t need the anxiety.  On the drive home, I got mad.  How the heck wussy are you, Whitney?  You’ve come this far and you’re going to let a little fear ruin everything?   I was mad and I was bawling and I was talking to myself, yelling really, and I’m pretty sure every car on the road thought I was some mental patient making her escape from the Behavioral Health Unit.  Where are the men in white coats when you need them?!?  I turned my car around and I drove back to the gym, only to sit in the parking lot again, trying to talk myself out of going in… and again, I started the car up and drove for home… it also didn’t help that this particular gym was next door to a taco joint… and I kept telling myself how much easier it would be just to order an Elephant Meal full of tacos and stuff down my feelings with those suckers.

I played this leave the gym, turn around routine at least 4 times before I finally told myself off… it’s now or never and you better pick now because never is not in your vocabulary anymore!   I dried my tears the best I could and I walked through the door… and guess what… I didn’t crumple into a bajillion tiny pieces of cowardice.  I went about my cardio routine, kept to myself, and an hour later I felt okay about driving home because I conquered that.  Just one step on the road to conquering these beasts of mine… but it was a big ‘un for me.

I signed up officially for a gym on Saturday (not the same one as above) and I’ve been 3 times since then with no issues at all.  It’s a good thing too since I’m pretty sure they’re out of beds in the Behavioral Health Unit!  InGym-idation… I’m over you!!

Try an exercise that you didn’t think you could do.
The gym thing is my exercise I didn’t think I could do.

Make a list of workouts that you would like to try.
– Water aerobics… I remember doing this when I was a teenager, but haven’t since due to the fact that I hate germy pools and swimsuits… I will conquer thee, water aerobics!

– Zumba… my madre is forever going on about how much she loves Zumba.  I’m too self conscious about my flapping bane of my existence to want to give it a try.  Another one that will be conquered.

– Snowshoeing… I did this years and years ago and I seem to remember despising it mostly because I’m a clutz and couldn’t get used to that extra length on the end of my feet… oh, and I hate cold.  I also broke my wrist the last time I went cross country skiing.  I will try snowshoeing again this year.  Mark my words!

Question of the Day:  What’s your favorite piece of gym equipment to use?   What are some exercises you would like to try?

PS – Update on pumpkiny muffin majiggers from yesterday’s post.  I tried sticking a Dove chocolate promise down into the top of the muffin and then I microwaved it for 20 seconds.  Holy died and went to hades in a handbasket, spiderman!!!  New favorite way to eat pumpkiny goodness… and it only added 44 more calories. 


Filed under Exercise, The List

I’m Like Rocky, the Bandit… Except Not So Much…

First things first… thank y’all for the great summer exercising suggestions… you all have inspired me to actually go out and buy my next summer exercising adventure… stay tuned to this here blog next week for exclusive pictures of me in my new bikini!!!!!  

Bwahahahahahahahaha… Um… NOT!!!  I wouldn’t do that to y’all.  Heck… I wouldn’t do that to me!  The part about me buying a summer exercising tool is true… which I will post about next week.  Yee Haw, Clem!  I’d post an individual reply to each of your giveaway comments, but the last time I did that on a giveaway topic, it took me an hour and a half to pick a winner since every time I drew a random name, it was me.  I love to win things that I am giving away!!!! 


Whenever I go somewhere that will require me to sit in a chair, I obsess over whether or not the chair has arms, how big the seat is, is there a booth… will I fit in the booth.  And those thoughts are like a never-ending loop of annoying, played to the stylings of Barney the Purple Dinosaur in the background (I Love You… you love me… we’re a happy family…)  Those thoughts and the anxiety that comes along with them are the ONLY thing that exists in my head until I can put it to rest.  What I usually end up doing is calling the place and asking about their seating and/or visiting before the event to see if my arse will fit in the seat.  Oh, it’s quality time with my anxiety… just me and my big buttox, worrying up a storm.  Even after losing 215 pounds, I still have issues with some seats, on account of the bane of my existence and it’s storing of Crisco for the winter.  Food storage is important, people!!!  The upside to the bane is that when it’s the actual end of the world (as opposed to the fake end of the world) and all the Wal-Marts are closed down and there is no food, I will die of starvation years and years after the skinny people of the world… which would allow me to hang out longer in starvation mode and chat it up with the sumo wrestlers and rejected Biggest Loser contestants!  Jealous!?  I thought so.  I actually do fit in most seats now, but I still have in my mindset that I’m a 530-pound chick and I’m always seeing myself as bigger than I am… what did I tell you about my brain… Albert’s ain’t any better! 

I find it completely humidifying (thank you, Ruby!) to have to call and ask someone if their chairs have arms on them… but it comes with the territory… and then, if I fit in a seat, there’s the whole worrying about the people who have to sit next to you fiasco and how uncomfortable they are going to be!  I went to the musical theater years and years ago, the person sitting to my left was uncomfortable the whole first half and so was I, trying to hold my legs over to the other side.  She didn’t even bother to come back to her seat after intermission… and I was so embarrassed… that she gave up some really good seats because I was crowding her out… I never went back to that specific theater after that… still haven’t been to it.  I have a feeling that I’d fit into the seat better now, but the mind keeps playing tricks on me. 

The reason I bring this up, I bought me some concert tickets for a concert in August recently and ever since then I’ve been worrying about the chairs.  They are stadium chairs, and I have NEVER been able to fit into those little suckers… besides that fact, I wasn’t able to get an edge seat, so I’m smack dab in the middle of a row, meaning two people will be uncomfortable, instead of just one.  It’s no wonder I already have so many grey hairs… worrying Wanda over here!  To try to alieve that anxiety, I’ve been trying to break into the local football stadium for days now… days and days and days… All of the dagnabbed gates are locked up as tight as a fat chick wearing a tutu… and heck if my lock picking skillz are of any use!  I even brought a crowbar once, but couldn’t lift it up off the ground so left it home.  Wednesday night I had some success… there was a tiny gate open with a big ole sign that read “Authorized Personnel ONLY”!  Of course, I just pretended that I didn’t know how to read and walked on in anyway.  I was sure that I was going to get arrested the whole time.  I had to walk across the entire football field to get to the stadium seats and I felt like I was Tom Cruise in Mission:  Impossible, except with less hair.  I was sure that someone was going to come and lock that one opened gate and I would have to LIVE in the stadium until I was 800!  Wo is me!  (I’m a mess… it’s a wonder I even get out of bed in the mornings!) 

I finally made it to the armed seating, took a big ole breath and sat my butt down… what do ya’ know, Goldilocks… I fit.  I have no idea how it would be with people next to me… probably still pretty squishy, but that didn’t matter right then… I fit in a stadium seat for the first time in forever… at least since the age of 18… because when I went to my sister’s graduation at the age of 19, I had to stand up in the back during the whole thing because I could not fit in the stadium seats.  YEE HAW!  Small victory won… I’ll take it.  I did a few victory laps up and down the stadium stairs for good measure (Rocky style), and then I high tailed it out of that gate before I had to move into the local women’s prison.  Pretty good for a week when the scale didn’t budge!

Question of the Day:  What was your latest NSV (nonscale victory)?  Remember to celebrate those along the way! 

The view from my new seat… who wants to go to a football game? Oh, the Aggies suck at football… alrighty then, who wants to go eat hot dogs in my new seat?


Note:  Since it is Memorial Day on Monday, I’m taking that day off from posting as well, so I will see you all back here bright and early on Tuesdee morning!  Thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a fabulous long weekend!  You can still sign up to win the giveaway if you haven’t already… I will close the giveaway on Monday, May 30th at 11:59 p.m. MST and draw the winner then! 


Filed under Nonscale Victories