Tequila Shots and Plate Smashing

It's funny how depression creeps up on me slowly and it gives me little signs, it doesn't hide behind something and then kaplow! jumps up and says: feel lame now! It creeps in when I don't make time for myself, when I don't exercise, when I feel lonely, but don't make an effort to reach out, and when I eat a lot of granola or Greek vanilla yogurt.

I feel like the soaked leaves on the sidewalk, all mushed up with no where to go. Like the tasteless soup I dumped out after a day in the slow cooker. Like deflated birthday balloon found under the couch.  Listing these similes is cheering me up a little bit, ooh... In the past I used to worry when I felt depressed, stress out about it and created a bit of drama for myself, but now, I simply notice it and let myself fall into it. I don't feel guilty about it, I don't try to mask it by doing chores or baking, I just let it be. It goes away eventually. It always does. Like an English as a second language student who is here to study for a while and then goes back home.

So like I said, I'm quite content sitting with my sorry self for now, but at some point I'll get the urge to do something about it. Before the kid, furniture rearranging, heading for the border, retail therapy, sharing a bottle of red with a funny friend or taking an entire day to make a giant paella with my husband would have done the trick, but things have changed. How have they changed? At first, I thought it was spontaneity that was missing, but it's not entirely that. It's my belief (belief, right? not necessarily reality) that the hassle of scheduling, arranging, planning, and finding babysitting outweighs the benefits of doing something fun. And if by surprise, I find myself with a few hours of free time, my mind goes blank and I end up alone somewhere drinking coffee or biking around aimlessly. There's a little drama :)

So there are two approaches; deal with the belief first and the blahness will go away or deal with the blahness and then the belief will dissipate. Or do both at once?

I've been mulling over some ideas in my head to kick this blahness to the curb. A couple of tequila shots might work. There's a collection of dusty tequila bottles in the cupboard, it's two thirty in the afternoon Um... tempting, but it might impede my tiny motivation to make it to Zumba tonight, which has been proven to help in the past.

Another new way came to me this morning as I was looking out my kitchen window. Across the street from us, there's a restaurant equipment business that just put out big stacks of plates with a free sign on them. Plate smashing? Very tempting!

How about putting on a ridiculous prom dress? My high school prom dress is hanging in my closet, but it's about the size of my ankle, so, maybe not, but maybe wearing something flashy, fun and sexy and dancing to loud '80's music might do it.

Sex might be an effective third way. Tequila, plate smashing, and high heels might be interesting foreplay....

or just calling a damn babysitter.

I'm not kidding.

You are Beautiful! Banishing FAT TALK!

It's been a while since I've written. I could say that it was a combination of taking care of a more and more active Baby, picking up food off the floor 4-5 times a day, training for the Sun Run, but really I needed a break from writing. Plus I haven't found anything much to write about until this morning.

On my way to work one morning a few years ago, I saw that someone had painted: "You are beautiful." on the wall of an overpass. It made me smile. After that, I noticed this was written more and more in random public places around the city. It always made me smile, but I would soon forget about it and I never did find out what it was all about until this morning. I picked up at the library "Operation Beautiful-transforming the way you see yourself one post-it note at a time." by Caitlin Boyle. She states that the mission of Operation Beautiful is to post anonymous notes in public places for others to find, spreading the real truth that WE ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL; we are enough... just the way we are. Her book is full of photos of women and notes from all over the world, abolishing FAT TALK and taking back the power of their unique beauty.

I first started noticing my own FAT TALK in my late twenties. I can't remember when I started, but I've Fat Talked a lot. It starts in the mornings, in the showers, in the closet, at the gym, on the street, at work, while eating, while watching tv, and it doesn't stop. I've done it alone and with others.

"I'm so fat."
"Did you lose weight? You look great!"
"I wouldn't be caught dead in that bathing suit."
"What's with size 0? Is that a size?."
"I haven't run this week, I feel so guilty."
"Don't give me any of those, I'll eat a whole bagful."

The only time I've ever had a break from Fat Talk was when I was pregnant. I was FREE!!! I felt beautiful, round, sexy and happy. It was SO AMAZING to NOT think about weight, size, food, exercise etc... It was such a significant change, I couldn't believe it. That inner voice was gone.

It wasn't long after my baby was born, that the FAT TALK came back. If I managed to tame it, reveling in feeding and caring for my newborn, there were plenty of skinny moms at the new mommy groups who had apparently given birth only a few weeks prior. "Really?" The rest of us, round belly moms, wondered when we were going to fit in our old clothes again. Some moms were already on diets, doing hard-core training in the rain with their babies in strollers. What is with that?? It's sick. The funny thing is that I haven't minded that my boobs are bigger and point a little more to the south that before. I love that they are feeding my boy so wonderfully and he truly seems like he's in heaven when drinking his momma's milk. BUT the weight around the middle? That's not okay. It's not??

This paragraph from Caitling's blog " Healthy Tipping Point"  summarizes what FAT TALK really is.

"So, what do we really mean when we say, "I’m so fat"?  We  actually mean that we are FULL WITH AN EMOTION. Oftentimes, it’s shame.  Or sadness.  Or fear.   Why do we express our inner turmoil by hating our bodies?  Because that’s what Fat Talk and society tells us to do.  Don’t admit you’re scared, just feel fat!  Don’t admit you’re lonely or depressed, you’re just fat!   We can deal with ugliness, we cannot deal with weakness.  The next time you feel the urge to say, "I’m so fat," think about what you REALLY mean. By berating your body, you aren’t doing any favors.  But by honoring your emotions, you’re living a happier, more honest life."

Last week I completed a 10km run in 1 hour and 9 minutes. I trained for it for 4 months, running in the rain with Baby in the stroller. It's been 6 days and the FAT TALK is back. I heard it. Yesterday I stood on a scale for the first time since I gave birth. I couldn't believe it what I was saying to myself. I won't ever repeat it. So I'm fighting back:

This break is well deserved!

Thank you body for taking me to the finish line!

Let's have fun today and move so that it is fun!

My body is awesome as it is!

My body is feeding and taking care of Baby so perfectly!

I am beautiful!

http://operationbeautiful.com/

Getting Rid of your Monkey

Everyone's got a monkey, or a bunch.

Monkeys are like kids' musical toys, they repeat the same tune over and over again until you either enter a weird trance or start singing along sightly psychotically. The monkeys can pop up anytime and you never know how long they'll stay. Some monkeys have been around since you were a kid and others just visit sporadically. When you have a lot of monkeys, you get really good at seeing others' monkeys. This creates a lot of blame.

The trick at first is to spot them. They hate that. Then, when you get good at spotting them,  you have to acknowledge their visit and let them know that even though they are there, you choose to love yourself anyway. Over time, you notice that they don't come around as often and then they disappear entirely. Let me introduce you to some of my monkeys:

1.  You're too fat. (this one's an ape)
2.  You're not beautiful. (this one came along in my early twenties...)
3.  Being vulnerable is a weakness.

I can hear my mom saying: "Even though my monkey is telling me that I'm too fat, I completely and lovingly accept myself!" In reality, I have a good body that is strong, wise, and able and I know how to make my body feel good. See! That monkey's already fading away!

Someone down the street from my house threw out a HUGE monkey on the weekend! Good for them.

Reading Myself Loud and Clear?

There's that feeling again. That indescribable itch that won't go away. I tried to make it go away this morning by taking off on my bike and riding around East Vancouver in the cold sunshine. It was still there when I got home. Then the itch made me snap at my sweet husband who was focused on installing our new flat screen television. Okay, so I took my itch to the mall, I thought I could make it go away by finally treating myself to a much needed winter coat. Bad idea. There was some sort of "sidewalk sale" and even though it was sunny outside, the crowds were going insane for a deal. I looked in a few stores, bought a much needed fleece instead, and gave up. Did some grocery shopping on the way home, thinking the itch would go away if I bought lots of yummy fruits and veggies for the week. Nope, the itch was still there. I walked back to my car; Baby in one arm leaking pee on my coat, one hand holding a grocery bag about to break while pushing the stroller, one hand holding the car key, one hand catching my coat about to fall off the stroller, and another hand holding my new fleece. (Did you see how many hands I can instantly grow? It's a secret mom thing.) Anyway, I got home. The t.v. looks great. I put Baby down for a nap and made some tea. I'm here now and although it seems like the itch is fading, I know it's still there, humming the same song over and over again. What's it saying? Feed me? Run? Get drunk? Sleep? Call someone? Take a bath? I can't tell. Here's what I suspect it's trying to tell me....

It wishes for more than 1 hour alone with my husband. Time when we are not tired, not doing chores, or shopping, not wearing our house clothes, not wondering if Baby is about the wake up at any moment, not at home, not talking about Baby, or doing chores or shopping. That's what I suspect the itch is telling me. It wants time for something else. Less a cook, less a cleaner, less a party planner, less a family organizer, or menu and activity planner.

It wants to have fun. Less mommy fun. More adult fun like before....
Might be time for a date... we'll see, even that takes so much work now.....
It's worth it. Then the itch might go away.

Step Away from the Baby

Do you know why I have an awesome husband? Because after a long last day at work, saying goodbye to his co-workers and packing up his things, he comes home and takes over the screaming, crying and whining baby. My patience was already wearing thin when I got my finger caught in the clasp as I was trying to tie Baby into his highchair. It hurt so much I started crying, like a tired, damn it hurts, I can't take this anymore, and it's kinda of funny at the same time type of cry. And then baby started to cry again because I was crying. What a mess. My husband swhooshed in just at that moment. I swear I heard the sound of his super hero cape whip up behind him.

I've run away upstairs. I can still hear a faint cry but I choose to ignore it. For my sanity. I choose to ignore it. Thank you my husband. Meu querido.