Commitment

At home this past week I made a commitment to myself: 12 weeks of regular exercise, quiet time & meditation, study & research. Basically, a focus on my needs.

As work isn't getting any less stressful and I've two large projects (involving lots of writing) to complete between June 6-Aug 24,
I'm going to try to negotiate some time away from the office. I think better when I'm not being distracted by everyone else's needs and the underlying strain of the recession's impact on non-profit.

So, to negotiation, dedication and commitment. Here's to summer.

Decisions

I was supposed to go to NH today.

Well, technically I was supposed to go to RI today.

Our nephew is playing lacrosse this weekend. My wife thought he was playing at home in RI (45 mins away from Boston) at 4pm today. In reality, he was playing away in NH (2 hours away form Boston) at 2pm today. A calendar snafu that led to changed plans today.

I spent half the night awake with a pooping dog (Bryce has diarrhea again). Deprived of sleep and feeling cranky, I realized that I had no desire to make a 4-hour round trip for a 90minute lacrosse game. [Especially as last week we did a 24-hour turnaround to Long Island and back and next weekend we are considering a trip to Maine, and then I leave for Georgia to take care of Dad]

So I made a decision to stay at home. But then, I balked and started to panic. "but Heather told Luc we were coming." "It's more important to see his game." "I just need to keep moving and get over myself." I almost talked myself out of it- putting guilt and family above my self.

And then I realized- I truly don't have to do this. I can stay at home and honor myself. That my first instinct toward self care is not wrong and not going doesn't make me "less of" an aunt.

So I've stayed at home this afternoon and it's been fantastic. By this point, Heather and Hannah are over halfway through watching the game. In the time they've driven up there and been watching, I've played with Bryce, done two loads of laundry, taken a 35 minute jog, played more with the dog, listened to "Wait. Wait. Don't tell me," and eaten lunch. And now I'm blogging. Next, I'm going to bake cheese scones and then watch a little television.

On a side note, this week I've been exercising more regularly and loving it. I've been holding off for the past few weeks because I've read that hard exercise irritates your gastric system. As I'm struggling with stomach pain and reflux (now going on for nearly a month) and am waiting for more testing and diagnosis, I realized that it can't get much worse. I feel like crap. I'm achey. I can't eat or drink the things I like. And I'm tired. Why the hell not exercise.

And every time I have exercised [Two runs, a good walk, and aerobics so far this week; indoor biking tomorrow and kickboxing on Monday] I've felt amazing afterwards. It's been a little hairy at the beginning of each session, my stomach gurgling and protesting until I hit my happy zone (my version of the runner's high) when everything becomes focused on how my legs are moving and my heart is pumping and my muscles are contracting. At that point, everything breaks and my tummy pain recedes. And, even better, so far this week exercise has had lasting effects for a few hours. And that, dear readers, is the best medicine I could ask for. Pain relief AND satisfaction with my efforts. Awesome.

So, now I've 2 hours (at least) before they get home and I'm going to bake and sing before resting. All told, I'm relaxing and rejuvenating.

Here's to you doing the same.

The sugar effect

Felt better tummy wise today and so fell into a couple of vices... including a small cup of decaf and a couple pieces of chocolate this afternoon and a cupcake this evening. This was my first sugared with chocolate day In a couple of weeks and it was underwhelming. Sure the sweets were fine when eating them but my morning run felt better. And while my belly survived I feel headachey and bloated. Not worth it.

Take home message: sugar isn't always sweet.

Waiting for the pain

So the last three weeks have been a hell ride of gastric bloating, lost  appetite, nausea and acid. It came out of nowhere and we're still not sure what's going on. Eating causes pain and bloating. Not eating causes bloating and nausea.  Exercise irritates all of it. I've cut out all coffee and alcohol and most chocolate and tomatoes.

Medicine is keeping it at bay but I feel that's NOT the solution...just a fixer. I've lost 8lbs in the past 2 weeks which I'm not excited about (long time since weight loss has not ben an auto great thing). I'd like to figure out the underpinning cause. Headed for a GI series soon...so we'll
see what comes of it.

Until then I'm going to continue the positive changes in diet but change my attitude and some other behaviors...so far I've been living in fear of setting off the pain within my gastric system and so avoiding exercise. But tonight I  worked out for an hour. It was hard work through some ugliness for the first 20 mins but then something broke and all that was important was me- moving.

So tomorrow I'm going for a run in the morning and while I know that the pain might hit me, I'm sure as hell not going to wait for it. Maybe I'll even leave it in the dust...

Mary

Last Friday I met Mary at the doctor's office. At 74 years old she's spent the last seven years battling an illness that at its most vicious point  last year reduced her 120lb frame to a mere 69lbs.

A favorite in the clinic, she'd rescheduled an appointment and her doctor "a handsome Italian" (her words) had snuck her in.  As her thank you, she'd brought him a  cannoli from her local bakery. "He loves them" she said.

As we chatted on family and illness and rescued animals and heritage we laughed and commented that we were perfectly matched for conversation- two chatterboxes  who because of our heritage (she Greek and I Scottish) and upbringing have an innate interest in storytelling and a little inherent nosiness.

As our conversation continued Mary kept returning to a familiar refrain focused on her health struggle and weight loss last year.

"I lost so much weight you know. Now I'm all bone [touching her clavicle]. Doctor told me to eat. I told him ' How can I eat when I can't swallow?' Doctor told me to drink cool water. I said ' How can I drink. I can't swallow.' He said I might die. Now if I can just put on some meat ..."

This refrain was repeated in pauses, inserted in shifts in the conversation. After an hour and the 6th repeat or so she giggled and remarked,"if I could take 10lbs from some of these folks here..they'd be happy and I'd be happy. And my doctor. Not from you though- you're good. From someone who doesn't need it. I always said I'd rather have more beef than bone [with a grin]."

More beef than bone. I liked that. I giggled with her in that waiting room thinking on how I've always liked women with a little curve. A little beef.

Reflecting now, I realize that this concept of beef and bone has been a paradox in my life. I desire in others a little beef. But for years for myself I've desired only bone. And that's led me in stages from boney to beefy and between.

Now, as I try strive for acceptance of myself and hope to nurture my self, I realize that I'm going to take on this beefy-bony paradigm.  And while I don't know exactly how it will all unfold, my gut tells me that Mary's got something right.  So now when I find myself admiring my boney clavicle, I'm going to pause and grin... but at the beef as well as the bone.

Taking time

The last couple of weeks have been a large silent stressor for me-complete with little sleep and high anxiety. It's coming to a close now which is wonderful.

I've been coping with healthy and unhealthy combos; hour long bouts of exercise followed by red wine and sweets. I'm thankful for family and friends who have been patient and more optimistic than I have been.

Today, after a long night, I took the morning off work and slept for hours. I then headed to a scheduled pedi and facial. Now I sit on the quad at BU enjoying the  good weather until an alumnae meeting.

I managed the best I  could over the past few weeks though I'm sure that if I had consistent self care mechanisms built in to my life it could've gone better.

Today was my reminder that I need to build more naps, self love and peace into my schedule-both for the stressful moments and for the pure joy of living in balance.

Pantyhose and paradigms

Last night I attended Paint the Town La Red, an annual fundraiser to benefit The Network La Red (TNLR). There my thoughts for this entry percolated. TNLR is a social justice driven, anti domestic violence organization for the GLBTQ community. Their fundraiser was one that recognized the harsh realities of funding for anti-violence work and funding for GLBTQ-specific programs in this current economy. But mostly, it was a celebration of the power of individuals and community in creating positive change to end domestic violence.

I am consistently awed at TNLR's intentionality. From the acts who performed to the emcee's for the evening, to the sneak peak of the video they're producing, folks of different backgrounds were all part of the event and the conversation. It is true testament to their work that they consciously strive to create partnerships and conversations with all members of the queer and allied community.

It was relevant to me that during the course of the evening, as I was internally celebrating TNLR and appreciating my queer and allied folks in the room, that I was also noticing the appreciation for queer bodies of all types - particularly sizes.

In the queer community I find this appreciation for curvy queers and fat femmes more than I have within any other community. In act, the only other community I've entered that is supportive of fat folks is Weight Watchers, and that group is geared toward changing fat to fit (or thin). But within the queer community I've found in my peers, in my lovers, and in the culture an openness to curviness, to broadness, to thickness, to fatness that is less than in other communities. Not that the community is perfect, but it's better.

As I pulled together my outfit for last night I stopped off for pantyhose. Faced with rows and rows of nude and black and silky black and suntan and misty black and A and B and Q and super Q, I thought... "Wow. There's so much going on here." Our definitions of nude and suntan - color of skin defined by white skin and changes to white skin. There were no colors available in that rack (half a store aisle) to represent the varied tones of my sisters and brothers of color. Availability was defined in that store by white folks. Access defined by a white paradigm.

And then the sizes. A for the skinny folks (up to 130lbs or so) B for the mid-size folks (up to 160 lbs or so), Q for the curvier among us (up to 180lbs or so) and super Q for everyone else... (though only if you're under 220lbs...). And I wondered. What the hell happened to C? Why Queen? Why Q and super Q?

I'd like to imagine some fat-positive queer at a company board meeting arguing for Q. Stressing that round women, voluptuous women, curvy, fleshy, fat women are regarded with disdain in society. That dominant skinny culture has neglected fat women. Made them pariahs and for that, the pantyhose companies should take up a rallied cry of support, of appreciation. "Fat women are queens! Their broad hips and full thighs should be worshipped!" and thus, the Q and super-Q size was created to deify fat folks as a subversive counter-culture method of combat. Designed to slowly strip away at dominant culture paradigms of fatness.

But, I'm sure that's not the reality. Right now, the A B Q system reeks (to me the childhood report-card-aholic ). Reeks of success and failure. A = skinny = stellar grade. B = above average weight = good grade. Q = round = not on the system= too fat to even give a C = beyond failure, purposeful segregation. Scarlet letter Q.

And this grading system of curviness and thinness (I'm sure) was not constructed on a scale that accounts for curvy women's bodies. For cultures in which curvy is graded up. In which fleshy thighs and round bootys are norm. No, I'm sure it was created on a dominant white paradigm of "what is" and "what should be". White white twiggy white girl body.

I almost went commando.

Instead I opened my wallet. For the pantyhose...and for TNLR (you can too). Through their work and the efforts of my community I know we're going to slowly continue to deconstruct these paradigms that oppress us as groups and engender discrimination against individuals. It's important that we do.