moved to http://sweetawakenings.blogspot.com. tired of updating two all of the time. will merge the two fully later.

I’ve always liked jazz. It’s a form of music as comfortable in Carnegie Hall as it is on the street corner. Jazz, she has no pretensions, no bias, no prejudice. She’ll play for you in a smoky night club, she’ll play for Presidents and Popes and for the poor little girls living in basement apartments with five brothers. Jazz is loud, dissonant at times and experiential. Jazz is a beautiful mess.

In a jazz set, artists take turns in the spotlight, take turns creating a sound, of stringing notes together to form soul. After each musician has satisfied, the song culminates into a dissonant but beautiful idiom. The music gets louder and stronger as the instruments lean in towards the pinnacle. Smiles decorate faces. Feet tap the stage in anticipation. And then just like that, it’s silent. The last note barely lingers in the air, and you barely have time to catch your breath before the next song begins. Sweetly, softly, a low murmur of new sound fills the air, a stark contrast to the song before it. The program of jazz moves me. It resolves infrequently, yet still leaves me satisfied.

I wish I lived my life like a Jazz set. I wish I embraced the dissonance and played on until the melody could be found again.

I have been traveling for (9) days out of the last 14, and it has left me exhausted. I have recently had my accounts hacked into – my checking and savings accounts were emptied into the hands of someone with a misplaced sense of entitlement.

I am spiritually, emotionally and physically exhausted.

I fear I’ve lost the jazz; lost my rhythm, my improvisations. This journey, this path should be melodious, should be beautiful. Instead of a harmonic phrase, instead of a beautiful mess – I feel as though I’m left on stage naked and exposed. This mess has no beauty, no rhythm and no seeming end. The intricacies feel overwhelming, there is no pinnacle in sight, and I’m begging for resolve.

How best to reclaim my joy? How best to reclaim my smile? How best to be satisfied in the midst of this unresolved muddle? How best to resolve to accept the unresolved?

This time last week, as I talked to lawyers who told me about my options for prosecuting my internet bank thief, I found myself in full-on kick ass mode."You’re not going to get the best of me,”I remember thinking. Today, just one week later, I’m blue. I feel naked, vulnerable, exposed. I’m several thousand dollars poorer, and I don’t know how to begin again. Money isn’t power, or it has certainly never been mine, but I feel powerless. And, so, I sit here wishing I could embrace the chaos and create soul of my sadness.

Tomorrow is a new day, I’m telling myself. Tomorrow and next week will be full of days with promise and full of chances to find my jazz. My search for harmony in this dissonance shall begin afresh in the morrow. Come Awake! Arise!

I shall let this note simmer in dissonance.
I shall dance the Dance of Anticipation.
I shall sing again.

here are some recent pics. i thought i'd like to document some "before" pics.... let's see where i am in eight weeks!

You Should Weigh 140

If you weigh less than this, you either have a fast metabolism or are about to gain weight.If you weigh more than this, you may be losing a few pounds soon!

...There was no other choice now. I had to go home, had to be alone, had to go into the cave.

When i got home, i stripped down to my underwear and took a long look at myself in the full length mirror by the side of my dresser. I squinted, trying to recognize the girl i used to be, looking hard for the size 10 pants and size small dress shirt.

I couldn’t see her, i couldn’t find her in that mirror. It felt like a large down, flannel lined sleeping bag was covering my body. I have a recurring fantasy in which I unzip the “fat suit” and become thin again, much to the surprise and pleasant shock of all of the men in my life. I found myself thinking that again as I surveyed my damaged body.

I laid down on the bed, head swimming, tears stinging again. “don’t fall,” I pleaded silently to my tears. I knew i wouldn’t be able to get them to stop.

And so i laid there. I laid there thinking about the embarrassment of me. I laid there thinking about the years i had wasted inside this body, inside what doesn’t even feel like me anymore. I didn’t want it anymore, this dissonance, this duplicity.

I closed my eyes and tried to see the future. I closed my eyes and tried to see what i could be. They say it’s crucial to be able to see yourself as you want to be. So i laid there thinking. I tried to see myself, sitting on the toilet without my stomach resting on my legs. I tried to imagine sitting comfortably in a plane seat. I tried to imagine shopping at the gap again. I tried to visualize myself walking down the aisle at my sister’s wedding, not worrying about “ruining the pictures.” I tried to imagine myself buying a pair of light khakis, and not being worried about the cellulite pulsating through. The visions were foggy at best, this wasn’t working.

My eyes flew open. I sighed. I couldn’t picture her yet. I missed her, but i didn’t know how to find her again.



© KLM Publishing

two things bear mentioning today:

I had dreams about girl scout cookies last night. I had dreams I was swimming with some girlfriends in Lake Superior and thinking about Samoas - gooey caramel, coconut and dark chocolate goodness. As I came out of the water, I asked a fellow 5K Trainer if it would be alright to eat some cookies. "No", she screamed. "Get back in line." I don't know what I was "in line" for, but I did know I couldn't have any cookies.

Alas! I awoke with the dreamt taste of Samoas on my lips. I also awoke a little angry with my supposed friend who barked orders and withheld cookies.

I've been battling the craving all day, for I have Samoas in the house! I have them hidden behind the salmon filets and chicken breasts in the fridge. I think about them periodically, glad they are there for some sort of emergency.

What the hell kind of emergency do I think I'm going to have? What kind of "emergency" will be placated by the mere presence of cookies in my fridge?

Terror Alert: Orange. Don't worry, I have cookies.
Amber Alert Issued: Don't worry, I have cookies.
Tornado Alarm: Ooohhh... let me go get my cookies
Burglar Breaks In: Pelt him with cookies.
Car Crashing Into Another: Mollify angry victim with cookies

Yeah, I'm an idiot. An addicted idiot who dreams of food that she cannot currently allow herself to have, in the event that she actually overstuffs herself and ends up bloated, paralyzed and possibly perished by said cookies. Death by cookies, what a lovely way to go.

This afternoon, though, as I hopped from my desk to the bathroom in staggering steps to relieve myself, I noticed my pants were a little looser. When I got into the bathroom, I noticed I could take my pants on & off without unzipping or unbuttoning them. Can I rejoice? Can I rejoice, that though an idiot, I have managed to parlay sugar in light of Goals and Prepared Way of Eating?

Is it too soon to scream from the mountaintops that I see a new me, envision a new size and am mesmerized by the thoughts of fabulous shopping excursions? Is it too soon?

I know something for darn sure... I ain't eating any cookies today.

It turns out that this journey of truth and self-discovery and changing bad habits is hurling me towards a startling conclusion: I. Like. Myself.

I found myself pleasantly surprised to pose for pictures yesterday, excited to document my “before” status and looking forward to my “after” status. I was even coming up with my own ideas for poses in pictures. I gathered the girls, and went to the steps of the library where we had several photos taken. I posed inside the Motown Museum, monkey-ing and hamming it up for the camera. I haven’t done that since high school.

I found myself walking ahead of the crowd, not out of breath when it came time to climb two flights of stairs to get back to the car, or walking from the Ren-Cen to Greektown or walking to a building that “looked cool” from the windows of the People Mover, or any kind of physical activity. What a feeling!

I am beginning to recognize myself again, beginning to see the me I’ve been missing. With that has come the realizations that I actually like me. I like my sense of humor, I like my natural instincts, I like who I am ~ underneath these layers of insulation that I’ve been stockpiling all of these years.

In the evening, when we gathered at “The Italian’s” house, I didn’t cringe at my pictures. Instead, I thought, “I like my smile.” Or “I like my outfit”. Or “I look nice wearing blue.” Or any number of positive thoughts instead of the thousands of negative thoughts that usually scream into my consciousness, drowning all sense of self-appreciation.

I like myself! What a surprising revelation. Beneath all of this obesity, in spite of the obesity, or (perhaps) because of this obesity and my resolution to accept where I am and to move forwad positively… I like myself.

It’s quite a journey! I can’t wait to find out what’s around the next bend…

i thought this was a bit harsh, but hey, sometimes i need a a kick in the pants.

"Deal. With. It. One way or the other. Either enjoy your body as it is, whatever size it is, or put down the french fries -- and double bacon cheeseburgers and extra-large milkshakes and entire pies -- and do something about it. Either act like you really believe that you are “sexy succulent” or “fat-tabulous,” or stop wasting your money on all the expensive and useless diet pills, stop eating so much, and maybe take a walk around the block once in a while.

Now, look,I ain’t saying there ain’t issues our society needs to confront when it comes to women and body image, recognizing what constitutes a healthy weight, and even ensuring that everyone, whether they’re in the ritzy suburbs or poor inner city,
has access to affordable and nutritious eatin’ and not just cheap empty fast food. " Adapted From A Movie Review by this gal

Just another thing to chew on, another opinion to digest (no pun intended).