You Say I’m Selfish Like It’s a Bad Thing…

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Growing up Christian, in a large poor family, and being Italian, the worst possible thing you could call me growing up was “selfish”.  This word was the ultimate profanity, the worst epithet, the lowest characteristic a person can possess.  I strove my whole life not to have this word associated with me, completing tasks beyond my capacity just to avoid it. And now as I knock on 40, I wear that once disgusting, reprehensible word like a jeweled robe.  Yes, I’m selfish and it’s been the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

My husband knows this word, this idea, this characterization maligns me deeply so he likes to unsheathe it in the middle of a fight and pierce my skin with it right in between my ribs so it sticks directly in my heart (hey, I don’t fight fair either).  He knows it will get me back in line because I don’t want to be a selfish wife or mother.  Somehow, it has been ingrained in us that as we go from “she” to “we” that we relinquish ourselves as being a viable entity.  I don’t exist, I’m here for the needs of my children, my husband, my home.  I don’t have thoughts beyond what I’m making for dinner.  I can’t hold anything significant in my mind except where every item that my children or husband is looking for exists in this well organized inventory I hold in my head.    I only have conversations about my children’s progress in school, complaints about how I’m not getting enough sex, and  engrossing discussions about where the best place to buy chicken this week is.  My days can only be filled the mind-bending monotony of schlepping my kids to their litany of activities.  About 2 years ago, I decided to replant the flag, to reclaim this woman in the name of a girl who once existed but has long been forgotten.

Being selfish started small for me.  Time I would have spent doing laundry or helping with homework, now became my gym time.  The gym, the haven for the selfish, became my refuge in the rigorous pedestrian existence that had enveloped my life.  At first, I felt bad when the kids would ask me where their favorite sweatshirt was and I knew full well it was at the bottom of the mountain of laundry I’d abandoned in place of an hour sweating, listening to rap at the gym.  It bothered me when I was working out and I imagined them crying over a difficult homework problem, lamenting their mother who had abandoned them.  And then, while in the throws of a self-inflicted guilt wound, I realized they would survive without my presence for that hour but if I didn’t claim that time for myself and my selfishness, I might not fare as well.  To be honest, 2 years ago was my make or break.  I knew I would have to make some changes or I couldn’t go on.  Being selfish seemed like the more viable option to a total mid-life crisis.

My husband always likes to remind me that I sugar coat things in these posts…that I don’t give the reader a sense of how deplorable my behavior is, how pervasive its effects on the ones who love me is, how my selfish tendencies have caused irreparable harm to those I love the most.  While I’ll admit, this change I’ve undergone hasn’t been pretty, has shown me to be vile, and selfish, and vain, has resulted in me hurting people who mean the world to me;  I still CAN”T and WON”T go back in time and undo it.  Being selfish, reclaiming who I am and my place on this planet as a woman, as a person with big ideas, as a sexual being was a critical part in my survival.  I couldn’t have survived for even another second as the person I was before because the reflection wasn’t mine anymore and staring at her in the mirror made me hate her.  Yes, sometimes when you try to cage the lion thinking it’s just a cat, you get scratched when she tries to escape…I’ll apologize but please understand that it was a part of the survival mechanism.

So call me selfish.  I could be worse things.  I could be soul-less, fake, locked away in a life that didn’t suit me, feigning happiness when depression was eating me from the inside.  If you really loved me, you’d forgive my selfishness and know that those things were far worse.  That despite the scarlet “S” of selfishness that I wear in red, bloody scars on my skin, there are still redeemable qualities to compensate for this selfishness.  Don’t be afraid to draw the line in the sand, reclaim things for the girl you once were…because she was many wonderful things despite being a little selfish.


Sexy as a Mother


Every time I’m with a group of mothers, the conversation ultimately turns to the desire for their bodies to return to their BC state (before children).  I was part of that majority for the last 11 years but this weight loss has come to not only help me accept my AD (after delivery) body but view it not as something to be tolerated but something that is far superior.  Having children forever changes your body, there is no doubt about that but I think far too often, as women, we discount the amazing, powerful, sexy creatures that motherhood morphs us into.

I like to go through my husband’s computer every now and again, trying to keep my finger on the pulse of what turns him on, and I’m always pleasantly surprised by the kind of women he is fantasizing about.  When he was in his 20s, the women he was fantasizing about were also in their 20s with perfect bodies.  As he’s gotten older, his tastes have changed.  While I’ll admit he’s not into women in mom jeans with grey hair and wrinkles, the women he is looking at look a lot more like me than I would have suspected.  Is it possible that his wife, the mother of his children has become something that he desires, reveres, and fantasizes about?  Do we really expect that as we evolve and change, that they don’t?

There is something about being a mother that is inherently sexual…sex makes us mothers and that seems to stamp us indelibly as fuckable.  Our hips widen, our asses get bigger, our breasts get fuller and we see this as something to hide but I propose that these are things that throughout history have made men go into battle to honor.  Women with fuller frames have been prominent in art for centuries, they were revered and seen as symbols of sexuality, fertility, and wisdom.  So just because we now have the ability to photo shop, we should throw centuries of being goddesses out?  Fuck that.  We understand the power of our touch to heal, comfort, adore and these things aren’t just honed for the care of our children, but transfer to the way we touch our partners.  The terms “MILF” and “cougar” have only come into the common vernacular in the last 10 years and yet they symbolize that there is a desire to be with mothers, older women who know their bodies, who have full, soft, voluptuous forms that are designed to offer comfort and love.  Beyond being exhausted by the colossal tasks that are in front of us, there is truth to that whole sexual peak awakening that happens as we get older.  While my husband would tell you that my appetites have always been strong, he’s had to lock himself into the guest room to get some rest since I’ve hit my late 30s.  So push past the tired and let the inner cougar out.

Stop buying into the myth that motherhood transforms us into these sterile, asexual creatures, that no one is looking at.  It’s just not true.  Our partners are turned on when we bend over to clean up some spilled milk.  They watch the muscles flex as we carry a child on our slightly wider hip.  They’re legitimately jealous when they see our children cuddle into our full bosoms as we read a good night story.  We need to stop repressing our sexuality as we become mothers and instead celebrate and channel it into every part of our being. Stop believing that being a mother somehow turns off  the switch of sexuality and instead see that motherhood turns on another light, not dulling but brightening its incandescence . Embrace the sexuality that you possess not in spite of being a mother but because of it.

You Are Beautiful

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There are several 3 word combinations that a man can say to scare the hell out of you and send you running for the hills like “I’m very complex” or “My mom’s coming” or even “I love you” but the most terrifying words that make me intensely uncomfortable are the words “You are beautiful”.  When a man says those words to me I immediately doubt his intentions, his candor, and his verity.  I squint my eyes together to focus my view and I start to evaluate every thing he says as if he has just come out of the jungle and is in my scope.  Those words cut across my skin in the most brutal way and leave an open wound and a stinging pain and immediately put me on guard.  Despite what his intentions are in uttering, genuine or sinister, the bite in this simple, affectionate declaration  is the deep down belief that we don’t see ourselves that way.

The first lips who lovingly perfumed the air with this phrase was undoubtedly a parent.  We describe newborns as beautiful not because they are (I’ve always thought they looked a little alien-like- even my own children) but because of what they represent…new life, hope, purity, a composite of the love that created them. We call new babies beautiful even when they’re not because of the love we have for them.  Through out our lives, our parents feed us with these words like a teddy bear being stuffed with fluff, insulating us from the blows that life will bestow on our self-esteem later.  As a parent I know the look of pride in my daughter’s faces when their father tells them they look beautiful when they come bounding out of their rooms in a new outfit.  “You are beautiful” is a proclamation that we use to weaponize children, to armor them for a world which won’t see them through the same loving eyes as we do.

But somewhere along the line, those words lose their innocence in two ways.  First, somewhere in puberty or adolescence, someone will say those words and melt your defenses and subsequently break your heart.  The perversion of those words were the key that lets the danger in.  Second, at some point when you’re looking through old pictures with a parent and you see that you were not so beautiful in those memories and you hear your parents lament that you were- you start to doubt the whole validity of those words.  You begin to realize that they are peppered with perspective and salted with a parent’s agape love.  You begin to see that those words are not an absolute and as such can be open to interpretation and forever more you doubt “You are beautiful” whenever it escapes from someone’s lips.

I think about my revulsion of these words a lot as I’m trying to transform my two young girls into women who will be stronger and more powerful than I am.  I think the key is in developing their perception that they are beautiful without saying those words.  Both of my girls have several mirrors in their rooms.  I want them to see themselves and find the beauty for themselves.  I also try to speak those words with my eyes.  When we’re cuddling, I’ll stroke their perfect little faces as if I’m touching a masterpiece.  For myself, I’m fighting for those words to have meaning too.  I’m trying to say them to myself when I look in the mirror and not like some bullshit sing-song affirmation from some self help guru…right now it’s more like the quiet whisper when you’re having a loud screaming match with someone and you finally speak the truth.  I want to believe those words, and we should because there is BEAUTY in each of us but the power from those words can no longer come from having them be gifted to us, it has to be something we already possess inside.


The 7 Deadly Sins of Weight Loss

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If your read the Canterbury Tales as part of your formal education, then you are familiar with the 7 deadly sins that give birth to immorality and that must be overcome to live a pure life.  In losing weight, I have found these thoughts will pervade every facet of your life.

Lust–  Yes, as your body changes into a more pleasing shape, there is an awakening of lust- a unhealthy passion for things that you shouldn’t have.  Your eyes are opened to a world of sexuality that was once closed to you but the lust I found in weight loss wasn’t tied to a hot guy at the gym, it was tied to things I couldn’t have anymore…food.  Coconut is my favorite food, especially when it’s drenched over a moist cake and yes my feelings of fondness and desire for this have transformed into a weird craving bathed in lust.  I wash my hair with coconut shampoo, I slather my body in coconut oil and lotion, I even have this alarming reoccurring dream where I coat my body in vanilla frosting and slowly lower myself into a bathtub filled with coconut flakes.  I’m pretty sure my fondness for coconut has become lustful.

Gluttony– As you restrict food, your desire to have it in large quantities, until you can take no more increases.  While one should allow oneself a cheat day every now and again- the gluttony I’m speaking of goes beyond having dessert on date night.  There is a whole genre of YouTube channels that originated in South Korea called Mukbang where people live-stream themselves eating exorbitant, binge-worthy amounts of food.  I have become fascinated with this and watch it daily and although I’m not indulging, the experience of watching someone slurp down noodles and jam over-stuffed burgers into their mouths like snakes with retractable jaws, allows my to live vicariously through their gluttony.

Wrath– With the discipline and restriction that comes with losing weight, there is an equal and opposite reaction of an unleashing of emotions that will literally leave you screaming.  I like to think of myself as pretty mild mannered but the hunger and the muscle soreness have birthed an emotional creature that I don’t recognize in myself. Extreme rage is counterbalanced by extreme love….one second I’m screaming profanity and the next I’m cuddling.  When one circuit is closed, the energy travels to another and lights up pathways that you didn’t know existed.  Brace yourself for a life of emotional extremes.

Pride– There are many accomplishments that I am proud of in my blessed life but the one that fills my head up the most is weight loss…one would think the greatest source of pride would be birthing majestic children or inquiring an advanced degree but no, I’m filled with pride for fitting into some shorts and not having a fat role hang over.  Sick.

Envy/Greed- These 2 are connected…greed refers to the desire for the possessions of others and envy refers to a desire to be in the place of another.  Yes, before your world was small, you were confined to the people in your circle and you wanted the best for them.  All that working out has awakened this Olympic level competitor in you and you want it all.  Your eyes widen with every new acquisition until you become blind in your greed.  Your consumption of physical things leads to a desire to be in the place of others.  Nothing is good enough and you end up throwing away some pretty amazing treasures in your search for things that are sadly gold-plated.

Sloth– All this energy you are putting into losing weight and getting stronger leaves you lazy in the things you once put so much pride into.  There is only so much energy within you so as you channel your energy into the other deadly sins, you find you become lazy and complacent in things that are really important.  Maybe you become sloth-like in the effort you put into your relationships with other people, people who really matter who don’t just feed your lust or envy.  You become complacent and then are left wondering why you are alone.

While these emotions can be deadly, they are also necessary.  Feeling these things is not what makes them dangerous, it’s a lack of learning from these feelings, it’s a lack of embracing their ugliness to find your truth that brings the harm.  These 7 deadly sins are only lethal if you surrender to them without moving past them, rich in their lessons.





the ILLusion


ILLusion.  The prefix -ill has the most ironic yet appropriate role in the word “illusion” because it means “wrong”.  When we think of illusions, they are sensual and beautiful and magical but the -ill in illusion serves to remind us that this sensual, beautiful, and magical thing that we want is wrong.  We are all a little ill and yet we all buy into the illusion that we see in others and create for ourselves…what we post, how we dress, what we say and do; it is all so laser focused on masking the wrong and embracing and glorifying the illusion.  If I had GAINED 60 pounds in a year, my friends and family would have immediately recognized that I was ill, that something was wrong but having LOST 60 pounds in a year gave those same people the sense that everything was OK and that I was better in some way….The opposite couldn’t be more true…I’m worse in every way- ill to the core yet the illusion that the weight loss created sent the wrong message.  Don’t believe the illusion…it only seeks to hide the illness and it’s perfectly crafted to do just that.

Never before in the history of time have we had more power to shape and control the illusion that we share with the world.  In ancient times, if you were a king, the walls of your tomb would tell your story through biased eyes but now we have the ultimate control…thanks to social media we are visible to a massive, selected audience.  While the audience and the frequency of the exposures we share has multiplied exponentially, the role of our true selves has diminished significantly.  There are hundreds of people you are connected to daily but I’m willing to bet only a handful of them know who you really are.  I think 3 people on the planet truly know who I am and statistically that means you’re not one of them because the person that I’ve crafted myself to be is a just a glimmering illusion of what I want you to see.  If your honest with yourself, you know this is true for you as well and this only feeds the illness because we are all trying so desperately to be just like the illusion of each other that we’re idolizing and aspiring to be something that doesn’t actually exist.

I want her perfect ass.  I want their marriage.  I want a beautiful house like that.  And yet we don’t really know if these things that we desire and aspire to obtain are real or a fantasy.  I’ve recently made a friend who has a large social media presence and he talks a lot about the “artistry” of what he posts online….while I laughed a little when he used this term, what he does and what we all do is just that- artistry.  Artists create something beautiful or interesting from something mundane or ugly…if we’re all busy perfecting our artistry, then what happens to reality?  Where’s the truth?  Does it exist anymore and if it does are we brave enough to show it, to seek it , to desire it or are we only content in the illusion of it.  That friend with the perfect ass, does that perfect ass spend more time on the spin seat than at the kitchen table with her family.  That picture perfect married couple, do they sit in silence fantasizing about other people when they’re home together?That beautiful house, is it fracturing the family based on the crushing debt it put them into?  I want all of these things but am I willing to embrace the reality of what it will cost to attain them?  Or do I just want to put blinders on and bask in the beauty of the illusion?

If this weight loss experience has taught me anything it’s that I want truth…I’m in a desperate search for it.  I want what’s real and honest and true.  I believed in the illusion of being thin and all that it would bring and the illusion has left me hungry, aching, and broken.  Whatever you are searching for, don’t make yourself ill in the illusion, evaluate the illusion for its truth and determine if that is real and worthy of the effort you will need to put into to attain it.


I Wish I Was Fat Again

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I WISH I WAS FAT AGAIN.  The other night, I found myself admitting just that to my trainer in between grunts and groans.  It’s not the first time I’ve thought it, just the first time I was brave enough to say it out loud.  His astonishment at my admission was followed by the inevitable question “Why would you want to be fat again?”  There are many reasons but the central one is that I thought, dreamed, and fantasized that everything would be better, would fall into some perfect order and that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The whole purpose in writing this blog has been to let people into my journey with as much honesty as I can muster so this is the most naked, raw, realistic view of what this transformation has done to me.  That fat girl in the picture was happy…she knew who she was…she didn’t give a shit what people thought of her…the people who loved her, loved her because of who she was inside…she had morals and values and never questioned her priorities.  Losing 60 pounds has changed all of that.

People are superficial…me too.  When you’re fat, you are for the most part invisible.  The people who want to talk to you, to be your friend, to date you, do so as part of a conscious choice they make, because despite what you look like, they value who you are as a person.   That was always a beautiful natural filter that I used to my full advantage…it allowed the right people to sift through and kept the wrong ones out.  I knew the people I shared my life with were there for the right reasons.  Losing the weight, removed that filter and allowed the wrong people into my life for the wrong reasons. And you suddenly become hyper aware that you are being seen and while it is kind of hypnotizing in its effect, it really serves no valuable purpose if they are only there because of the way you look in a pair of tight jeans.

Thin is a lifetime sentence that comes with a desire to be more physically perfect than you were the day before.  The feedback you get from people is intoxicating and it drives you to keep pushing your boundaries to continue to receive it.  I’m exerting a whole lot of energy into something that personally isn’t that important to me.  When I was fat, I just accepted my physical shape as a part of who I was, not as a defining feature.  Losing the weight made me reassess myself as a composite of multiple factors that I hadn’t previously used in my assessment of self.  Despite being more aesthetically pleasing, I’m never satisfied.  I’m constantly trying to make one part or another of my body more pleasing…not to myself…but others.  When I was fat, I saw myself holistically, now every part detracts from the whole.  I could be channeling all of this time and energy into being a better wife, mother, or teacher (or maybe even ,GASP, making the world a better place) but instead I’m at the gym obsessing over something that really has a nominal value.

I know what started me on this path and that has been the only positive in this whole sweaty, hungry, emotional mess.  I wanted to feel in control again.  I had slowly relinquished all my power.  I had denied that I could solve problems myself, instead relying on others. Controlling what I put into my body and the shape that that body subsequently took made me feel powerful and that is the only thing that continues to propel me forward and doesn’t send me running back to embrace that flabby former self.

There is no happy ending here…the fantasy that losing weight will make everything perfect is bullshit.  Being fat is NOT the worst thing that you can be.  If you look around at your life and it’s full of laughter, love, and small pleasures then don’t think those things will be multiplied by a significant weight loss because in all honestly, they will probably be diminished.  I’m not saying this to discourage people from starting their own personal weight loss journey but I just want you to be prepared and to go into it with eyes wide open.  Know what your driving force is and promise me that it just isn’t to look hot for that guy in high school who didn’t pay you enough attention because you won’t find happiness with that focus (although you will most definitely find out that he was a loser anyways).  Begin your journey with a reason that is great enough to put your whole world into a tailspin because losing weight will mean losing a great deal more than pounds.

Don’t Be Afraid to Redefine Your Perimeter


In my math class we recently finished our unit of study on perimeter.  Perimeter is the lines that provide definition to a shape and it got me thinking about the perimeters that I’ve established in my life and how they serve to define the life I live.  Certainly the perimeters that I’ve set up around my free time, my relationships with others, and the ones around my belief system have changed as I’ve become a wife and a mother but as I’ve journeyed down the path of weight loss, I’ve found it critically important to frequently reevaluate and redefine them and you should too.  If you’re unhappy with the shape of your body, the shape of your relationship or your career, don’t be afraid to switch up those perimeters and see what change it brings.

We recently had to evict our children from the use of our bathroom because they were trashing our space.  We bought our first house about 5 years ago but prior to that our children had always lived in small little apartments where we were forced to share the space.  And I always loved that they wanted to be close to us and to each other, opting to sleep in the same room and bathe in the same space despite having a large house to spread out in.  We decided when we had children that we were going to use the attachment parenting style where you co-sleep  (family bed until they were each 5), nurse for extended periods of time (2 years for each child), carry your children everywhere in those back breaking slings, etc. because we wanted them to develop an intimate closeness to their parents and to each other.  From the time that they were born until they went to kindergarten, they slept in our bed, they bathed with us , they ate sitting in my lap, and we pretty much spent every moment in close physical contact.  This attachment style served its purpose but as the children have gotten older, we have had to take a hard stance on redefining our perimeters to carve out some personal space for ourselves, our marriage, and for our children to develop some Independence.  Our marriage was starting to suffer from the lack of personal space and time.  My identity was suffering too.  Hard decisions had to be made but once the perimeters were redefined; our family burgeoned with these more restrictive perimeters.

When it came to my weight loss journey, more perimeter shifts were necessary.  If you know me, you know that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to please my children or my husband but I found myself drowning in an ocean of service to others.  My mother often reminds me when she can see that I’m overwhelmed that when you get on an airplane, that the first thing they say in the safety sermon is that parents must put on the oxygen masks first before helping their children…which of course makes complete sense- if you can’t breathe, you can’t help someone else.  But somewhere along the line, we’ve forgotten that and wanting to breathe feels selfish.  The time I spent working out was the only time in my day when children (both my genetic and my students) weren’t demanding something from me.  It was my time to breathe.  Now, it sounds easy to carve an hour out of your day to exercise but I quickly found that outside forces were whittling into that time (“Mom, I need new cleats for my game”, “Mrs. Sutton can you call me back about my child”, “Bec can you pick up my dry cleaning”)….I had to fight to keep that perimeter wide and sometimes that feels like being a bad mom or teacher or wife but that is the price you need to pay to be able to breathe in your space.

Another perimeter i had to reset was the food in our house.  While I was able to exert some self control when I was at work or in the car, the amount of temptation at home was too much to bear.  All the kids school snacks and the crappy dinners with their favorite carby creations were making us all sick.  So we evicted most of the snacks (I only get the ones I don’t like now and I buy just enough to last the 5 days that I pack lunch for them) and I started refocusing on nutritious meals (without a lot of carbs).  In tightening up this perimeter, I was able to make better, more precise and well thought out choices for myself and my family.

Examine your perimeters, make changes, broaden some and tighten others.  Refine the boundaries that define you and make your life take the shape that feels right for you.

In Search of Pain


Pain is a thing that we spend a good portion of our lives trying to avoid.  We take medicine to ward it off, we abstain from certain things to avoid it, we barricade our hearts against it, and we warn others to evade it.  And yet we recite the mantra “No pain no gain” so deep within us, we know it has value yet we have to reconcile the need for pain and the avoidance of pain if we are ever to grow beyond where we are.  I look for the beauty that pain creates…the lesson it teaches us, the way it shapes us and transforms us with its dull ache.

If you’ve had children, you know that pain, intense pain, yields the most beautiful wonderful thing- new life.  Pain, in labor, has a function…it tells you when to push, it hastens birth, in forces newness into the world.  It is that newness that brings the greatest beauty.  My daughter, who is on the cusp of puberty, is constantly complaining about her growing pains and I remind her that all pain brings about radical transformation…she will transform from a girl to a woman urged on my those feelings of discomfort.  I know she doesn’t get it now, but she will, and hopefully she will remember those moments of being uncomfortable as a source of change and not something to fear.   And remember that pain, that unbearable pain, that comes from heartbreak, the end of a relationship; it teaches us, guides us to what is good and bad for us.  It forever shapes our view of love from there on out.    The pain of losing a loved one teaches us more about love and the expression of that love than any sappy Hallmark sentiments can.    Yes, pain is the greatest teacher and it shapes the course of our lives.  Pain has a transformative power like nothing else so don’t avoid it, seek it out because it tells you that the change you are so desperately seeking is coming.

I spent the last 20 years of my life being comfortable and it certainly didn’t make me happy.  It had the inverse effect- keeping me anesthetized to what I needed to get to in order to find happiness.  Pain has been the variable in the equation that has changed everything for me. Hunger pains have showed me that I was stronger than I thought, that I was in control, and that I was powerful.  Pain in the gym gave me the evidence that I needed to know that I was building muscle, banishing fat, and getting stronger than I ever thought I could be.  My trainer, Jimmy Ready (who’s at Club Fit- in case this post leaves you inspired to embrace pain) knows that I want to leave each session limping because that’s my evidence that I’m accomplishing what I’ve set out to do.  Despite working out all the time, I’ve come to realize that my personal fitness goals are best fed by pain.  I know if I’ve finished a workout and I’m not sore all over that I haven’t finished and keeps me going back for more and pushing harder towards my goals.  Even the introduction of pain in the bedroom has transformed my relationship with my partner, deepening my trust and reliance on him to provide me with what I need to feel alive, powerful, and in control.  In a world where we constantly want to be rewarded, pain provides that in the most bittersweet way.  A hard day of yard work, a tough game on the field, a demanding workout that leaves you breathless and unable to walk down stairs for 2 days- pain is the applause that has value.  We know we’ve worked to our capacity when pain accompanies those accomplishments.  And pain promises that growth and change has happened.

Stop avoiding pain.  Seek it out.  Don’t stop until you find it.  Allow your mind, body, and spirit to surrender to it like a baptism of blood, sweat, and tears.  Know that pain has a purpose and find its purpose in your own life.  Use it to start your own radical transformation and know that pain is temporary but the changes it brings will last a lifetime if you are brave enough to seek it out.



What’s Your Superpower?

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If you’re like me and you’re a mom, you already know what your superpower is…invisibility.  You do it all: schlep children to their activities, you cook healthy meals, you clean the house, you show up at the PTA meetings, you bake for the bake sale, you’re the team mom, the Girl Scout leader, the first one to volunteer yet no one knows your name.  You’re either “mom” or Olivia and Taylor’s mom…your husband even calls you mom…you cease to exist…you’re invisible…although it doesn’t feel like a super power at all…in fact it sucks.

Now I get it…I know some of it we bring on ourselves….somewhere along the line we actually start to believe that being invisible is a good thing.  We accept this superpower as a consequence of surviving the nuclear waste leak that is sometimes referred to as parenthood.  As if changing diapers (see the toxic waste reference) mutates us into invisible beings.   We place our children in front of us in every picture like farmers presenting their harvest- this is what I have to offer.  Bullshit.  We pack on the pounds after children as part of our invisibility force field.  No one’s looking anyways so I might as well finish off that quart of ice cream.  We start shopping for clothing at places with “barn” in their name like we’re accepting that we’ve become cows.  We accept that wearing our hair in a low maintenance style makes the most sense (whatever that means).  We stop wearing sexy lingerie to bed because well, he’ll sleep with me in my cotton underwear and t shirt anyways and we’ve only got 10 minutes so that doesn’t leave much time for a costume change does it?

FUCK all of this.  I don’t want to be invisible.  I want to be seen damn it!  And not just as Olivia and Taylor’s mom or as Mike’s wife or Romeo’s owner….I want to be seen as the sexy, vibrant WOMAN that I know is in there somewhere.

I’d like to say that we live in the kind of world where I could be seen for my smart ass sense of humor or my charming ability to carry a conversation but let’s be honest…if you really want to be seen, it starts with the physical.  So as I started losing weight, I looked for any way to make the person I felt I was on the inside be seen on the outside and that started with ditching the sensible shoes.  Ladies, you know, you never feel more electric than when you’re walking around in some motherfucking heels.  You can’t walk in heels without a natural swagger, a strut, a saunter.  Then I moved on the the undergarments…I didn’t care if the material chapped my nipples or the underwire cut into my skin or if the thong occasionally got lost up there and had to be retrieved….I knew no one was going to see them at work but I felt a little less invisible when I knew what I’m rocking underneath my clothes could also be seen on page 37 of the Victoria’s Secret catalog.  And the clothes, just because big flowing peasant tops are in right now doesn’t mean I need to hide my shape under a yard of fabric.  God (and let’s be honest…Ben and Jerry’s) gave me this shape and I’m certainly wasn’t going to hide my light under a bushel, no matter how dim that light was at present.  I started taking a lot of selfies too because you know what…I don’t need my kids in every picture as some sort of explanation for why I look the way I do or as some kind of reference point.  I also started taking A LOT of dirty pictures of myself…sometimes I send them to the hubs- sometimes they’re just for me. Sometimes I look at them in my car before I pick up the kids at soccer or swim or dance just as a reminder that I’m more than a taxi driver.  My husband sometimes has to remind me that I’m a mother and not a porn star and to that I say FUCK YOU. Even if I’m invisible to most of the world, I can see myself.  And then there was the weight-loss…the quickest way to be seen…..which is ironic if you think about it…the larger you are the less people see you…the smaller you are…well you know.

Whatever you do, trade in that superpower of invisibility for something that is actually super and makes you feel powerful.





Beware the Life in the Middle

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When I was 15, I was diagnosed as bipolar with extreme mania.  I took medication for a time until I realized that living in the middle sucked so much worse than the way I had been functioning.  While I’m certainly not offering any opinion on what others with the disorder should do, I know for me that living life in the middle seemed to be something to be avoided like carbs.  Now, most of the women I work with and am friends with are on some kind of mood stabilizing medication because life in the middle seems a safer, calmer, more lovely place to live.  No judgement.  We all do what works for us but I know that is something that I don’t want in any part of my life….bring on the crazy, the moody, the screaming and yelling, and crying because I know that it comes with snorting laughter, the shit eater grin, the uncontrollable dancing in the kitchen, and the running through the rain with your arms outstretched and I don’t want to miss a moment of any of that.

Life is filled with highs and lows and ultimately if you average them out, well, you end up average…which I guess is still a central tendency of being in the middle.  Yes, while the lows suck, they make you appreciate the highs so much more that it tends to skew the average a little higher.  Recently, my marriage has been all about getting the “d” (no, not that “d”), the D.I.V.O.R.C.E.   The last month has been the worst of our 12 years of marriage and of our 19 years of living together.  And while I did briefly contemplate his murder in the last month (I may need to chill out on the crime TV) and I’m sure he did the same, when we came out of this low time, the feelings between us are now stronger than they have been in a decade.  Almost losing him, being at my lowest point, made me hyper aware of how lucky I am to have him and how deep my love for this man that I picked is.  You know when you have a cold and you think to yourself- “Man I miss being able to breathe freely” and then the first day you start to feel better and you actually appreciate the ability to breathe…something you never even gave a passing thought to….that’s what riding the highs and lows gives you that life in the middle doesn’t.

So how does all of this relate to fitness and weight loss…I think it’s pretty clear.  There have been moments on my journey in this last year where I’ve been on a euphoric high, my weight was down, my body was morphing into something more pleasant, my husband couldn’t keep his hands off me….and then the low would strike…out of no where…all that progress would stop or even GASP go in the opposite direction.  And because I embraced these highs and lows, because I knew the lows would pass, because I was seeking them out, I didn’t give up…I didn’t stop…I didn’t say “Fuck it bring on the brownies”.  Instead I fought to get back to the highs…I used the lows as a step to get out of my rut and try something new.  I hadn’t lost any weight in the last 6 months so I tried a variety of things (some successful and some not so much) to step out of my lows.  I fasted, went to the gym 3 times a day, sucked down more apple cider vinegar than my body could handle, returned to some bad habits, yet nothing worked…but I wanted that high again so badly, I refused to give up.  So my final step was getting a personal trainer… and while you’ll see me limping around, things have started to turn around and I’m heading to the high again.

The most valuable thing I’ve learned from my trainer thus far also relates to highs and lows.  I spent the majority of my time with weights doing the same weights for the same number of reps….I thought that worked…not so much apparently.  Like life, your muscles need to have highs and lows, they need to experience variety, times of high and low stress to stretch and grow…you see the analogy there, right?

While living life in extremes is not a life approach that works for everyone, I challenge you to taste it briefly and see if it doesn’t make you love deeper, your life feel more rewarding, and your ass look even more spectacular.  Hey, highs and lows don’t just work for squats ;).