Don’t even THINK about mentioning food to me.
May 10, 2010
There are fun things about being pregnant… but they don’t happen until you’re a bit further along than I am.
I’m only five weeks, guys.
Five weeks and though the morning sickness has not hit with a vengeance there are mornings like this one… Where I’m not sure if I’m going to vomit or cry, when nothing tastes or smells like it’s supposed to and where my ability to deal with people has gone totally down the drain.
I’m really. really. really. uncomfortable.
The rain outside has turned the entire city a dim sort of grey and I would love nothing more than a nap. A nap where my stomach and my boobs cannot move an inch.
Ah. The things that make me happy right now.
It’s how I spent much of my weekend.
And is not at all how I get to spend next weekend, when my husband will join me in the Memphis area and tell me that I need to move around more and nap less.
Right before I punch him in the face.
Actually, he’ll more than likely be 100% understanding, as he’s been great 99% of the time during my pregnancy so far (a whole 5 weeks in) and has even surprised me in some of his opinions on things…
But.
Because he did this to me.
And because I feel so icky.
I want to punch him in the face.
It’s nothing personal and I mean it with all of the love in my heart.
This is just… first trimester pregnancy talk.
Life is DEFINITELY about to change.
May 7, 2010
When tornadoes attack.
April 23, 2010
Being diagnosed with OCD at 27 or so was a big AH HA! moment in my life.
I never thought I was crazy, but it always seemed to me that other people simply COULDN’T worry this much on a day to day basis.
Now, my worries have never been debillitating.
I still function.
I just function in a much more prepared way than normal people.
To a ridiculous extent.
As I get older and can identify the patterns better I notice that in some ways I’m getting worse.
Always a worrywart, I now carry the heavyweight title in that category and tend to drive my husband insane.
A few fears that were always a problem for me?
The dark. I’m terrified of the dark. I have managed to begin sleeping, for the first time in my life, with the lights off consistently.
Storms. I’m terrified of storms. Severe storm warnings and tornado warnings will send my heart into a rate that only a marathon could match. Thirty minutes after getting home during these warnings I will have turned one of the bathrooms into a state of the art storm shelter – with my daughter and my dogs tucked as safely as possible inside for the duration of the event. I’ll monitor the tv channels and text messages from my storm chaser friends with the same sharpness that a hawk uses before downing it’s prey. I use my super hearing (not exaggerating on this one – I can hear fairly well for a few miles… unfortunately there is no siren in that radius) to keep track of the wind outside and my sheer paranoia keeps me trudging from window to window, watching the cloud formations that so often warn of bad weather.
Which brings me to tonight.
Major weather event planned for the next 24 hours or so. A ‘Tornado Swarm’ as one website called it.
I’ve never seen those two words together before and my heart has complied quite willingly with the fear overtaking my body.
My list of preps is ready.
A shower – southern girls aren’t going to be caught in a disaster dirty – we’ll be clean with clean underwear.
blankets, mattresses to the ready.
Clean water.
ID on hand.
Rubber soled shoes.
Weather radio – a new one purchased today! With extra batteries.
A fully charged phone.
Flashlights, candles, batteries, and a generator.
When I think about this from a distance I’m amused at how nutty I sound.
But.
I’d rather be a prepared nut than an unprepared idiot.
And this is where my husband and I differ.
I’d love to move away from Tornado Alley.
Facing blizzards – no big deal. wah.
Hurricanes? A couple days prep BUT the threat of losing everything all at once.
Earthquakes? HELLS to the no.
Wildfires? I don’t think so, California.
You get the idea.
When Abbey gets older and I have more freedom, you’ll see me ANYWHERE but in a tornado prone area.
Complete with a basement AND a storm shelter. Just in case.
But until then?
Well. Just let me know if you think of something I left off of my short list.
I don’t want any of that Activia crap.
March 25, 2010
Weight Watchers is a double-edged sword.
It helps you make better decisions (hopefully).
It also allows you to have those things that you crave, although in a much smaller amount than your giant ass used to consume.
After visiting Dallas last weekend and indulging in some cookie cravings, it’s been much harder to count the points with healthier foods.
The cravings are larger and have animal-like sharp teeth that keep ripping at my insides when I catch a whiff of tater tot goodness or juicy cheeseburgers.
I’m not sure why this is the case, as I’ve been battling this particular set of demons for over a month now, but regardless, it is harder this week.
And I’m not hungry.
I’m getting enough (more than) food to keep my body satisfied.
It just contains vegetables.
Or even when it doesn’t it’s a smaller amount than I would like.
I eat two pieces of pizza – I’m full.
But I’d like to eat three because it’s so freaking delicious. I don’t. I fight it.
And then the next meal, I’d like an extra bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, not green beans and potatoes.
And don’t even forget the chocolate syrup to go with my milk.
Damnit.
The chocolate syrup, oh how it mocks me from the fridge.
Le sigh.
But I continue on.
Forging my battle with weapons of fiber and whole grains.
A rather flimsy shield against a french fry craving.
Still fiber and grains are good for me.
Or at least Jamie Lee Curtis tells me it is.
And I guess for today, that’s gotta be enough.
You can’t even skip rocks on a pond this shallow.
March 9, 2010
I’m cranky.
I won’t lie.
Crankiness is the inevitable sign that my hormones have caught up with me and that life is crowding around, preparing to scream in my face.
Crankiness takes up a lot of my energy so I don’t generally yell back when that happens.
Ever have that moment where you KNOW you’re at a crossroads in your life and you’re actually scared of taking the wrong AND taking the right path?
I’m there.
My nerves are leading me down the ever energetic road of vibrating legs – I’m bouncing my desk up and down as we speak – it’s uncontrollable.
I don’t think it would be so bad if I weren’t second guessing so much of what I’ve done until this point in my life.
I’m being led in a direction by my principles and faith that feels right and BIG – so much bigger than I could have ever dreamed of on my own.
And I’m scared.
I can’t share this – these thoughts – with most people because what if they’re just the shallow thoughts of someone who wants to try a million different things in life before she dies?
What if this feeling, this desire to make a difference, is simply a figment of the moment?
And why can’t I stop being so damned vague?
It’s not my nature!
But. What if I say it out loud and people laugh?
Or if it’s the right way and I wish for it – if saying it out loud means my dream-of-the-moment won’t come true?
Will my generic career fickleness come back to haunt me?
Oh surely, it will.
Everyone around the house is doing well – Abbey’s trying out for cheerleading this week.
Yes. I gave birth to THAT child. Who’d have guessed?
I’m much more the nerdling type, but I suppose I can manage my way through the icky world of estrogen that cheerleading builds up for the parents.
this makeup in the morning, doing hair, making sure our clothes look great thing is completely new to me.
I was the kid that did the shower/smell-test/go! form of mornings.
Janie is doing well – the steroids have kicked in, meaning that confining her to the ground has been difficult. She stubbornly waits until I turn my head and jumps on something – and if I see her about to I catch her and put her up there myself. Only for her to jump down and back up as though to prove to the world that she can. Minx.
3rd week weigh-in tonight.
I’m curious if the trend will continue.
I’ve been picking up iced tea in the past few days – a habit that could become a habit… an odd one, since I don’t LIKE tea.
I just miss something to drink besides water and milk.
3 weeks without soda though. 21 days.
Technically they say it’s a habit now.
Horseshit, I tell you. Horseshit.
Shoot dem turkeys.
March 3, 2010
Second weigh-in at Weight Watchers last night.
Man, I feel like such an old lady going to these meetings.
This marked the end of my second week and I’m ten pounds down!
Woooohoooo!
I’m very excited, because this is the first real non-fluctuation weight loss I’ve had in a while.
I mean, sure, I’m a woman.
Technically I fluctuate between 3-6 pounds in a given day. Yes, men. That much.
But by weighing in at the same time, I get a very good idea of how I’m doing versus the neurotic weighing in every time I pass any scale.
This is much more healthy for me.
So I’m excited.
It’s odd to go to group meetings about food.
Because – and this is weird, so brace yourself – I HATE watching other people eat.
Sure, if we’re out at a restaurant and doing the basic dinner duty I am fine – most of the time when I’m looking at the other person we’re chatting and otherwise checking out our own plates.
But if I’m just sitting there and catching a glance at someone else wolfing down something? Gag.
Delicate eaters that take normal bites, I can stand.
But big mouthed eaters? That squish tons of food into their mouths at once?
Ick.
I know.
I don’t like fart jokes either, so back off.
So this is an entirely new experience to me.
I’m confused as to how this will work long term…
I love to cook which means that to me, chicken and dressing does NOT equal Stouffers and that I somehow have to calculate how to figure points on my beloved homemade sausage and chicken gumbo.
Gumbo. Geez, that sounds good.
I’m not hungry, I’m getting enough food, drinking enough water and this week starts the ‘add mega exercise week’ to see how that slows down the weight loss. I hope not by much, but then again, I’m so ready to get rid of my turkey arms.
Maybe by Amanda’s wedding?
No turkey arms? Or… only baby turkeys?
That could be a good goal.
Fasting is for quitters.
February 17, 2010
I always relish the beginning of Lent.
I suppose I don’t focus on it the way that I should – I always want to use it as a method to give up something and lose weight. Or to try to fast more than I should.
And then I inevitably fail and make light of it the next year.
For instance, last year, I gave up Nicholas.
Which. Considering we didn’t plan to see each other during Lent wasn’t really a hardship. Or wasn’t really a hardship that I’m not already used to.
This year, however, I broke out the big guns.
Soda.
Now, for those of you that don’t know, I have a love affair with carbonated beverages.
Champagne, sparkling water, soda, etc.
If it’s carbonated, Lisha likey.
They don’t, however, like me.
Or maybe they do, considering how long they’ve been sticking around on my thighs.
Besides a few personal revelations that have left me reeling and questioning the direction I want my personal motivations to go in life, this year has brought a knowledge that being addicted to anything really is one of the biggest wastes in life. Taking luxuries for granted to the point where I am addicted to them? Ridiculous.
(disclosure: I am NOT saying addicts are ridiculous. I am NOT saying that there isn’t a real problem and real hardships out there with addictions… I’m simply saying that there are people out there without clean drinking water and instead of feeling overly blessed about that, I’m off jonesing for a root beer. THAT is pathetic.)
I’ve really been reevaluating my priorities and one thing I’m learning is, this money-grubbing societal mess of whiny ass people complaining about not being able to afford $200 haircuts anymore is NOT for me.
I don’t belong here.
These are not my people.
I’ve listened to sad stories for two years now and looking down from my high horse while I technically make the average salary for an entire HOUSEHOLD in my state is ridiculous.
My free time needs to mean more.
It needs to appreciate family more.
It needs to take care of myself better.
And in doing so, I’ll be able to be a better me and move on to a more final (yet not quite concrete idealistically) goal of helping OTHERS.
And so. Along with the beginning of Lent and my soda-less desk today brings a new activity.
Weight Watchers.
Yes. I am officially a part of those stereotypical middle aged women that sit around bitching about salads.
And yes, there is a reason that stereotype exists.
And when I jumped on the scale last night at my first meeting I realized something.
I have REALLY let myself go.
Fatty McFatterson exists and thy name is Lish.
In an attempt to gain insight to my usual eating habits – the one meal I eat a day and the snack I eat at night – I ate something I might indulge myself in every six months and THEN calculated points.
(being Ash Wednesday cuts out the usual 2 eggs and turkey bacon that I have)
So… I had chocolate milk and a package of chocolate doughnuts.
I know it totally defeats the WW purpose but IN MY DEFENSE… I was facing 40 days without soda and I just didn’t give a rat’s petunia.
The tally?
21 points.
Out of my daily ration of 30.
So.
Won’t be pulling that egocentric stunt again.
Still, with this being a day of fasting, all was not lost.
A granola bar at lunch added 2 points and leaves me with 7 for a VERY light dinner… considering the whole fasting thing, well, it’s perfect.
Score. I am keeping my first day right on track.
For those of you keeping score that means today was a day without soda, without meat, without regular meals and starting Weight Watchers.
Whether or not the food was what they intended, it actually falls in the rules of what I’m supposed to do, so I don’t feel like a failure, merely a hedger.
Stay tuned for the next few days where lack of carbonated awesomeness makes me hang small children and adults from trees by their middle toes.
Clenching the armrests.
February 16, 2010
Ah, I love Valentine’s Day.
Well.
No, I don’t.
But with my husband in Minneapolis, I’m not subjecting to much of the pink and red stuff.
In fact, the only thing good about Valentine’s Day is the guaranteed flowers. I LOVE getting flowers. LOVE. And cards. But Nick hasn’t quite picked up on the fact that getting a card – A real card – means way more than a gift does to me (hint.) and so we’re still working on that one.
This V-day didn’t bring flowers though – no, it wasn’t giftless. Nick’s very aware of the date – he likes the holiday! Go figure! But the gift was unusual even for him and that makes it neat in its own way.
As for Nick, I bought him a coffee gift card.
That sounds lame, I know.
But anything electronic or hobby-ish he’d prefer to pick out himself and doesn’t tend to hold back on buying. He’s pretty stocked on clothes – way more than me at the moment – and his only real activity, other than racquetball and gaming, is drinking coffee.
It’s his new addiction – and Caribou is feeding it nicely. Now, I’m helping Caribou along and my thrifty husband will be enjoying coffee for at least a week or two on someone else’s dime.
For him, that’s a win-win.
I won’t say the day wasn’t depressing in a way.
Now that we’re married I’m quickly heading towards devastated that we aren’t together yet. But.
I’m still counting my blessings – and there are many.
Not enjoying much of Fat Tuesday – never do.
Though this year I think I’m going to try the mother of all sacrifices for Lent.
SODA.
I know.
I wasn’t sure about putting it in print. This would take more willpower than I’ve ever shown towards anything in my life. So. I don’t want to put it in print and have people nag me about it.
But. I’m thinking this may be the real deal – the big attempt.
I don’t want to. Who wants to give up their addictions?
But I will. I can. If I just say it often enough.
Now, if my husband would give up internet gaming we’d be at full sacrifice mode. But he isn’t likely to do so – I don’t think the symbolism means much to him.
But. I’m growing in some ways that I never expected and it’s become important to me for me to make a Real Gesture. Not just for myself or my faith, but for other people as well. And for the me that I’m becoming.
The notion that I get to choose what I go without doesn’t sit well with me, especially when I think of those in Haiti and what change this path month has brought to their lives. People all over the world are sacrificing things that I take for granted and the notion that I am so incredibly lucky that I’ve been able to have a chance to become addicted to something as soda – when so many can’t even get clean drinking water – well… that’s pathetic.
I need this, I think, to teach me about taking material things for granted and to help me get in touch with my lost willpower.
Such a small thing to symbolize so much, I suppose.
It may even sound stupid.
But it’s a start.
And it’s definitely much harder than it sounds.
I currently drink a little over a gallon of water a day, two gallons of milk a week and soda every day. I’m like a camel with a liquid fetish.
So, this is Big for me. And some people may not survive my attempt. (She says as she takes a swig of her Coke.)
Ah yes. This next month or so should be interesting.
Pray for my family.
Power of Suggestion – Illogical suggestions.
January 27, 2010
Power of suggestion has always had way too big of a hold on me.
If you suggest a certain meal, more than half the time the suggestion will sit in my mind until I’m drooling over something I wasn’t in the mood for before that conversation.
The mere mention of things, both good and bad, songs and stories, stay with me for days – sometimes forever.
Worries more so than anything – I’m a paranoid person by nature, worrying about everyone I love and wishing that I had the power to protect the ones I love from anything that could go wrong in their lives.
I can’t.
But I worry about myself too.
And when I started getting sick this week I discovered a new paranoia and a new part of being married.
The Baby Phenomena.
Logic would tell folks that with my husband and I being separated the majority of the time that getting pregnant is somewhat low on the probabilities list.
However, when you’re a newlywed, apparently probabilities don’t matter that much as Every Single Person close to me has asked me ‘Are you PREGNANT?’ when I’ve mentioned my nausea.
Including my husband.
What? He’s been there every single time I thought of… eating Jello.
So, surely he knows… just how much Jello I’ve had and the odds of that… Jello making me sick.
Right?
But, apparently, if you’re a newlywed, a female and sick – that is The Most Logical Cause.
I’ve been home a week from Minneapolis and the paranoia had begun.
A visit to the grocery yielded chicken soup, applesauce and pepperoni.
The smell of frying potatoes almost sent me outside to hide.
But, this morning I woke up feeling very differently, a little silly, and completely glad that I know this about myself and don’t have to worry for the next two weeks.
You know.
As long as someone else doesn’t mention it again.
Magical Swinging Doors
December 15, 2009
One of the things I like most about the field that I work in is that almost all of the mistakes made are fixable.
You can wipe the slate clean as though the mistake never happened.
It’s too bad I can’t leave at the end of the day and accomplish that same miracle outside of these walls.
