Goldilocks and the three diets.

We all know Goldilocks, right? The girl in the story with the three bears. Papa, Mama and Baby. Well, this Goldilocks is hanging out with the three diets. Moderation (Papa), Restriction (Mama) and Just Right (baby). 

Goldilocks woke up one day and noticed that her clothes didn’t fit anymore and she looked fat. She didn’t like at all how she looked and she thought it was high time she did something about it. She had heard of so many different diets, so she decided to try to lose weight with moderation. Papa Bear’s diet. Moderation should be easy. She could still eat whatever she wanted and she could eat all the foods she loved whenever she wanted. She just needed to eat moderately. Whatever that meant.  

How could it go wrong? She ate all the foods. She tried to moderate. Goldilocks found out that she really couldn’t moderate her food very well. The potato chips she loved turned into eating the whole bag. The cookies turned into dozens. She couldn’t stop herself from eating them. She didn’t know what was wrong. She just wasn’t sure how moderation was really supposed to work. She didn’t feel hungry a lot of the time and she ate until she thought she was going to burst. She wasn’t sure what portion sizes were and how big they should be. She had never kept track of her food before, so she wasn’t sure how much she was actually eating. This went on for several months and she started gaining more weight and her clothes were even tighter. She decided the Papa Bear diet (moderation) was “too big.” 

Next up, Goldilocks come to Mama Bear’s diet (restriction). This diet was 1200 calories a day. Goldilocks set up a food tracking app. She was going to track everything she ate and keep her calories at 1200. She could do this. She was ready. But Goldilocks had to go to the store and stock up on “diet” food because because this diet started on Monday and she needed different foods to eat. She needed good food, not bad food. She also stocked up on cookies and cake and licorice and candy and pre-made cold brew latte drinks, because this diet started on Monday and she didn’t want to feel deprived or miss her favorite foods. She ate so much she felt sick. She had to eat all the food and drink all the drinks because this diet was limiting her food and also the kinds of foods she could eat. She needed to prepare. She had to get it out of her system. Monday was the day. The first few days were great. But then Goldilocks started thinking about food constantly. She started thinking about what she was missing. Her sleep was crappy and her workouts made her so tired. She was always hungry. She was afraid to go over her calories and macros because then she felt like a failure. Saturday came around and Goldilocks said screw it. She went to Taco John’s. Then she went and bought two bottles of wine. Then she went to Dairy Queen and got a Blizzard. She told herself Monday was it. Monday was Day 1, again. After about six months of Day 1s, Goldilocks was sick and tired of it and knew she needed to do something else. Mama Bear’s diet (restriction) was “too small.” 

Goldilocks did her research and now knew what portion sizes looked like and she started tracking her macros, concentrating on protein because she wanted to preserve her muscle, because muscle is longevity. She made sure she was eating enough food, but still able to lose weight. Goldilocks did this for a few months and started to feel really good. She was glad she did the Papa Bear diet and the Mama Bear diet because that helped her to figure out what to do now. Once she felt like she had a good grasp of her food, she started to feel less pressure. She knew that if she overate one day, or one meal, if she got right back to tracking the next meal, she would be fine. She finally realized that she couldn’t mess it up. She was happy and she was feeling strong and energetic. She felt alive and she felt like she could do anything. She developed patience and knew this wasn’t an end. It was a beginning for her. Goldilocks knew the Baby Bear diet was just right for her. She knew that because she was tracking her food and learning about food, this was becoming a way of life for her. Goldilocks knew her ultimate goal would be to eat without tracking, but for now this way of eating was just right for her. Goldilocks stuck with the Baby Bear (just right) diet and continued to see progress with her weight, strength and overall health. Baby Bear’s (just right) diet was just right. 

The days fly by, I count them with the plop of the retainer cleaner. One blue glass at a time. One blue glass a day. One day. One day. One week. One month. It’s crazy. The time. It flies. 

A whirl of colors. A whirl of experiences. A whirl of thoughts. A whirl of words. I never get them back. The colors. The experiences. The thoughts. The words. See them. Feel them. Remember them. Hear them. 

Always waiting. Every night. Every evening. Hurry up time. Pass quicker. Pass faster. Wishing it away. The one thing I never get back. Telling it (time) it’s okay to go. I need you to go. Hurry up and go. 

I try to save half. I really try. But just a tad bit more. A topper offer. But then, then there’s not enough for tomorrow night’s buzz. So it starts again. The cycle. The cycle of trying to not do it. The strong in the morning, weak in the afternoon cycle. Why can’t I? Why can’t I just be? 

Have you been there? I was there and I was there a lot. I got to that point around 4 pm or after and started thinking about it. After all, it’s normal, isn’t it? Everyone does it. We are told we can’t make it through our day without it. We are told we are so much happier with it. We are told we need it to cope with our fucking miserable lives. It makes us happy, right? 

I stopped believing that bullshit. I stopped believing that it can be healthy. I stopped believing that I needed it to survive, to cope, to make it through my day. See, I finally quit following the sheep. I became aware that alcohol was no longer serving me. It was no longer serving my body or my health. I got tired of burning off that morning fog with caffeine. I bet you know what I mean. The foggy brain. The foggy mind. Having to get up and get moving. Not wanting to . Wanting to just get back into bad and snuggle up with the beautiful warm sheets and blankets, wrapping around your body. Getting that coffee going. Kicking in. Hurry up. Time again. Time. Passing. Wishing it away. 

A dream prompted this post. I had a dream that I drank margaritas with friends. It was so strange. It felt so real. But this isn’t who I am anymore. I was worried. I thought I blew it. I thought long and hard when I woke up. I wondered why, why now? It’s been almost two years since I have had a drop of alcohol. Was this a final farewell thing, or was this a this isn’t a forever thing? I wondered. 

I don’t miss drinking. It’s one of the best decisions I have made for my health and my life. I will tell anybody who asks me about it. It slowed me down. It slowed down my getting to enjoy this life. It set me back. My health was suffering. It does make a difference. It will catch up with you and then it will be there, tapping you on the shoulder, whispering in your ear. Baiting you. Convincing you. Bringing all its friends to sit with you. Telling you it’s okay. Telling you no one will know. Telling you it’s just one damn night, what’s the big deal? Telling. Taunting. Convincing. 

You want to be strong. It wants you to be weak. You want to stand up. It wants you to sit down. You want to break free. It wants to tie you down. Hands. Feet. Control. Ears hearing. Eyes seeing. The silent voice, not silent. Pushing you. Goading you. Urging you. Telling you. All those voices. Getting louder. Incessant with their chatter. Trying. Trying to get you. Wanting to destruct you.

No more. I fought back. I am strong. I am not weak. I stood up. I broke free. I silenced the voices. I pushed back against them. 

I do not feel the need to drink. I do not feel the need to numb myself. I do not feel the need to escape. I feel. And that’s enough. 

Act your age. Dress your age. Expectations? Because it’s always been that way? Who decided? What does that even mean? 

Act your age – what age? How am I supposed to act. What does 56 acting look like?

Dress your age – what age? How am I supposed to dress and what does 56 dressing look like?

I’m 56. I have a crap ton of tattoos. I have a nose ring. I’m married. I have children. I have grandchildren. I wear Converse and have since high school. I wear jeans. I wear sleeveless shirts that I cut off and made holes in myself. I wear Doc Martens and have for years. I have long hair. It’s white. I own my own business and I swear – A LOT. 

I wear shorts. I wear sports bras. I wear clothes that maybe high schoolers wear. So what? Does that make me a bad person or does that make me something I shouldn’t be? Am I not acting my age or dressing my age? Does it fucking matter? Because, I’m  still not sure what that looks like. 

Who is society or social media to tell me how I should act or dress. And I still am trying to figure out what age of dress or what age of acting I should be. How do you know that or how do you feel that? Because someone told us? Because that’s the way it’s always been? 

Don’t put me in an age cage. I refuse to go there. I am living my life full speed. I am living my life and living in the now. Not whatever 56 is or is supposed to be. I just feel the way I feel and I just act the way I act. I’m not trying to be younger or act younger. I’m just me. This is me. Like me or don’t. The door to my age cage is always open. 

Flaws, scars and imperfections

We are told we aren’t skinny enough. We are told we aren’t pretty enough. We’ve heard the -she would be so pretty if she just lost weight -comment. It’s been with us forever. It’s blasted on social media. It’s ingrained in us and has been forever. 

I distinctly remember in 5th or 6th grade thinking I was fat. The school district started a lunch program where the kids could get the weight watchers lunch. Not the company WW, they just called it weight watchers as in watching your weight. Thanks. So not only then were we being fed the lie that we weren’t good enough and that we should be ashamed of our bodies, they decided to make us lunches to tell us. I can remember styrofoam cups of tuna and vegetables. And of course if you got that lunch you were weird and you must be fat. I have always been athletic and I have always had muscles. That was my body type. There was nothing wrong with it. 

It’s shoved down our throats and in our faces how imperfect and flawed we are. Well guess what, everyone is imperfect and everyone is flawed. Perfection is a fucking myth. So many women and I would bet men as well struggle with this. It’s sad to watch. I see it every single day in my coaching business. It’s hard to break through these perceptions. We have so many scars. 

I have struggled with binge eating, eating disorders, and body image issues all my life. It wasn’t until about the past year and half or so when I really got a good grasp on my self worth and decided it was time to let that shit go. It was time to see where I could go. It was time to work on me. And my working on me, I don’t mean just my body. I mean the whole me. The mental part of my perceptions about my body and my eating and my self. 

Our bodies are amazing. We only get one. That’s the beautiful part. We are all different. Why would we ever want to be the same as anyone else? What is wrong with ourselves that we are constantly comparing and doing something different, wanting something more, or just constantly wanting something else? We are constantly looking and searching. Turn inward and you will find all the answers you need. You always hold the key to that lock. You just need to turn it. 

So, I set out to turn my key. 

In the fitness and nutrition industry there is pressure to look a certain way. As a trainer I felt that pressure. I was overweight by a lot. I was still strong, but I just did not feel comfortable. It was time for a change. It was time for me to change. Not because of the pressures of the industry, but because I wanted to feel better. I wanted to be more healthy. I wanted to see what I could do.  My health was starting to suffer. My blood pressure was rising and I even went to the doctor because I thought for sure there was something wrong. 

Side note — This is another thing that can happen to us that maybe these professionals don’t realize they do. I got cholesterol shamed by a nurse (even though my doc said I was okay) and I got fat shamed by a doctor. By fat shamed I don’t mean I was told I was fat, but I got that look. You know the one where you say something and they look at you like you’re full of shit. That’s the look. No denying that. They really should check their facial expressions. 

I changed my channel. I started looking at things differently. I started being more positive. I started looking at what I could do. I started looking at how far I had come, not how much further I had to go – because in reality that never ends. This thing called life is here and now and as long as we get the privilege to be in it, we should take full advantage and live it. 

When you see the Instagram accounts of the perfect bodies and the perfect skin and hair, it’s smoke and mirrors. There is cellulite hiding behind the perfect light. There are pimples hiding behind the perfect makeup. Nobody is perfect. We all have flaws. We all have imperfections. That is okay and that is completely normal. We need to stop. We need to be real. We need to be okay with being real. We need to start to feel comfortable with being real. 

This pic of me shows stretch marks. It shows some loose skin from losing weight. The angle emphasizes that. I could have changed the angle. I could have air brushed the stretch marks out. But why? This is my body. I have worked hard for this body and this body has worked hard for me and together, we continue to work hard. It’s okay to want to look good. Make sure you are doing it for you and make sure you are working on the whole you, not just the body you. 

I had a big transformation, but it didn’t happen over night. I was in a calorie deficit for a long time. Then I went into a building phase where I gained back 10 pounds in hopes of adding more muscle to my frame. Then I lost again and am hanging out in this in between phase. I like the in between. It’s a good place to be right now. 

Start talking to your kids about body image. Help them understand that what they are seeing on social media and what is having a HUGE influence on them is not reality. You need to be their influence. Explain the importance of a healthy relationship with themselves and their body image. Start eating supper as a family. Start talking to them about food choices and how food affects their bodies. Sit down at the dinner table and talk about life. Talk about realities. Make sure your actions and words to yourself are positive.

Be positive. Your words are powerful and your brain listens to what you tell yourself. It’s okay to love yourself. That is a powerful thing. When trying to change, get in the journey and be present in that journey. You can do amazing things. 

Flaws and imperfections are good. To me they are not negative at all. We are all flawed. We are all imperfect. There is nothing wrong with us. I love my flaws and imperfections. I embrace them. I like being different. 

Always trust your gut…

I was 15 or 16 years old. I was in 9th or 10th grade. Athletes had to get a yearly sports physical done in order to be able to participate in sports. I missed the sports physical that year when they had them at the school, so I had to make an appointment to get one done at the clinic. No physical, no gymnastics. 

At that age, as most girls are, I was vulnerable and self-conscious about everything. I was self-conscious about everything, but mostly my body. I was very nervous about having to go to the clinic for the physical. They usually just put us in a line and we rolled through for the ones at the school. Super easy. Super chill. At that age everything mattered and everything was a big deal.

At that age adults were supposed to be on our side. They were supposed to protect us.

I was really upset I had missed the one at the school. I have no idea what I was doing that I missed it. But, there was nothing I could do about it and had to go to the clinic. 

I went to the clinic and was to see a Physician’s Assistant, or PA. I was nervous. My pits were drenched and I could feel sweat running down my sides. Awesome. I waited. I’m not sure what I thought was going to happen. I didn’t like going to the doctor anyway and now I was there to get a sports physical. Ugh. 

I felt like I had been waiting forever. It was finally my turn. The person called my name. I followed him down a short hallway. He told me to go in the room and take all my clothes off.  I made sure to ask about the physical itself. I specifically asked him, “You only check the same tings as what they do at the school, right?” He said, “Unless you want me to check something else.” I was mortified. I was even more nervous now. Why would I have to take off my clothes? My gut was warning me. It was telling me.  My thoughts were going crazy. I didn’t understand why I would need to take my clothes off. It didn’t make sense. The intuition was real. There would be no reason for me to have to take off my clothes. 

That day, I listened to my gut. I didn’t take off all my clothes. I didn’t take off any of my clothes. I sat there on the table waiting for him to come back. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. It felt like forever. I was a huge rule follower and I felt like I was going to get in trouble. I thought maybe he wouldn’t sign the form and I wouldn’t be able to participate in the sport I loved. I was scared and nervous and I wanted to do the right thing. 

The right thing to me was not taking off my clothes. The right thing to me was having the courage and intuition to know something bad was going to happen to me if I did what I was told. The right thing to me was sticking up for myself. 

The wrong thing for him was thinking every young girl was going to take off all their clothes just because he said to. The wrong thing for him was abusing his position. The wrong thing for him was being so arrogant to think his motives couldn’t or shouldn’t be questioned. 

He came back in the room a few minutes later and never said one word about me not being undressed. At that point in time, I knew I made the right decision. I was right to listen to my gut. I was right to listen to my intuition. I was right to stick up for myself. I was right to question authority. 

I couldn’t wait to get out of that place. I couldn’t wait to get away from him. 

I think back about what happened. I think about it step by step. I think how it could have been a lot different. The thing is though, I shouldn’t have to think about how lucky I was. He never should have done that. He never should have said those things to me. He should have made me feel safe and he didn’t.

Always listen to your gut. If the voice is warning you, listen to it. 

And there will be haters who will say, well nothing happened to you, but that would be missing the whole damn point now, wouldn’t it?

If anything like this has ever happened to you, I’m sorry. 

I was 17. I thought I was 25. I thought I was a badass. My best friend and I and our best friend at the time, Jack Daniels, took a little road trip to Rapid City, from our hometown of Pierre. Tattoo time, because we were the epitome of cool. In our minds anyway. We were independent. We were wild and we were free. We grew up in a small town. We had big dreams and big attitudes. John Mellencamp rocking on the radio. Our favorite. 

At that time nobody was getting tattoos. It was not like it is now. Now pretty much everyone has a tattoo. We were trailblazers. LOL. In high school it was not uncommon for us to day drive to Rapid City or Sioux Falls, spend the day shopping and then drive home. This time it was tattoo shopping. 

We made the three hour trek to Rapid. At that time the speed limit was 55 miles per hour, so it took a while. We talked the whole way, as we always did. We were always together. Never apart. Best friends to the end and best friends with the tattoo gun and needle that day.

We found the tattoo shop and sat out in the car. A little liquid courage was in order. Nice to see you Jack, thanks for the shot. We each did a shot and got out of the car and walked up what seemed like 100 steps to the house. The tattoo shop was in a house. How weird. We wondered if we even had the right address. 

We were walk-ins, no appointments necessary and apparently IDs either. We looked at the posters of tattoos hung up on the wall. We had to choose. What life had we lived yet that would help us decide what tattoo we wanted to get? What had I done that would help me choose? I hadn’t. I didn’t. We hadn’t lived any life yet, so we didn’t really know what kind of tattoo we wanted to get. Really, how could we? We finally decided. I picked out a rose with a heart and Mary got a shooting star. She was a shooting star. She was going places. She did go places. 

The place was shady. We saw a gun in a drawer and it wasn’t a tattoo gun. The guys were kind of scary looking. My tattoo guy’s name was Mouse. Ummmm, okay. Seemed odd, but maybe because he was kind of small. He had long hair and ended up being really nice. It didn’t take that long. We were all done in less than a couple of hours. It wasn’t expensive either. We even left a tip. 

We got back in the car and sat there for a few minutes before we took off back to Pierre. We really felt badass after that experience. On the way home we stopped in Wall and went to the gas station restroom. We took off the bandages and looked at the handiwork. Wow! Soooo cool. So bright and shiny. And then we started laughing and couldn’t stop. We decided we had zits that hurt worse than the tattoos. We picked up some fountain pop and Bazooka Bubble Gum and headed home. 

Forever bonded. Forever friends. Forever firsts. And so began my obsession. I love the sound of the tattoo gun. Every time I hear it, I smile. Every time I hear it I relax. Every time I hear it I am taken back to that hot summer day and getting my first tattoo.

I hit send. The email notifying my clients. It was time to burn it down. Bittersweet. Then I went and bought a necklace, a crystal stone. Time. I gave myself the gift of time. Time does not stand still. Time flies. We usually don’t get it back, but I am taking mine back. 

Citrine is the stone. It radiates positive energy. Citrine increases personal power. It is associated with the solar plexus chakra. It enhances the energy center and can help dissolve blocks and stagnation, resulting in higher energy levels and a boost in overall circulation. It fills the spirit with positivity and the highest vibrations. It provides sunny energy. Yellow energy. My energy. The light reflects beautifully. I am light. I radiate light. 

Another chapter over. Another chapter done. But when a chapter ends, a new one begins. I feel like this is just the beginning. I feel like I still have important work to do. I know I still have important work to do. I will definitely miss my clients. And I will miss Chris as well. She and they have been my heart and soul for the past 8.5 years. 

I spent a lot of years at the studio. A lot of hours. A lot of sweat. A lot of work. It’s time to move on. It’s time to take it a different direction. It’s time. I am going to explore the out there world. The online world. I already have a small nutrition coaching business going and I love it. I am going to look more into building that up and doing some online training. I am still working on a few certifications as well. 

I am excited and nervous and scared all at the same time. The feelings and emotions are real and I am feeling every single bit of it. I am not shying away from feeling anything. In fact, I am feeling everything more and more.

I am looking forward to making my schedule each day. I am looking forward to using all I have learned and helping people be better and helping people eat with more knowing and help them life better. 

It’s hard not to get burned out with the hours I was working. I didn’t get that perspective until we had to close because of the virus. Then it was like oh, this is the sleep I have been missing and oh this is the time just sitting with my husband I have been missing. Oh this is how it is if I just want to pick up and go. It helped me get that perspective. It gave me that perspective. It gave me the means to do the hard thing and to be grateful. 

On June 30, 2020, I will walk out of The Underground. I will walk into my new life. A new life I am excited to live. 

April 18, 2020

Coffee, thoughts, music and birthdays.

The coffee is strong this morning. 

The thoughts are coming fast and furious. 

The music is mixed.

The birthdays are happy and sad. 

The coffee has half and half

The thoughts are contemplative and disordered

The music is always on

The birthday is today (Garrett) and the other is Tuesday (Dad)

The coffee is doing its thing

The thoughts won’t stop

The music is helping

The birthday on Tuesday is a milestone

The coffee is strong

The thoughts are connecting – the emotions are flooding

The music is Prince – ironic 

The birthday is 80 — would have been 80

April 18, 2020

The sun is on my face, in and out through the clouds. I hear the chainsaw in the distance. The breeze is slight. The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel is playing. I love that song. I can hear the faint voices of John and Rick off in the distance. The sun is surrounding me. I am soaking in it’s nurturing. My eyes fill with tears. The stress is real. I don’t want to eat. I have no appetite, even as I hear the growls in my stomach. The air smells clean and fresh. My skin is pale and my legs are dotted with freckles. I am still sweaty from my run. The chill is descending on me. Amie by Pure Prairie League is now playing. The honey locust pods still hanging on from winter are rattling from the breeze. The sun is in a cloud and now I’m cold. Three days to 80. 

April 18, 2020

The feeling isn’t shaking. It’s strong. It occupies my thoughts. It occupies my time. I know what it is. I’m denying a little. Not a lot. It’s painful. It’s sad. I still wonder. I wonder a lot. I don’t let that wonder occupy my thoughts and time for too long. What’s done is done. Most of the time these thoughts come twice a year. April and June, those months, the fourth month and the sixth month. Birth day and death day. Every single year for the past 20 years. Two big ones this year. Birth day = 80 and death day = 20. How is that even possible? I was thinking today and wondering why there are no pictures of us. There are pictures of you. There are pictures of me. There are no pictures of us. I’ve been waiting for signs from you. Signs to show me you are here. The cardinal let me know last week and again yesterday. I am keeping my ears and eyes open. I have been waiting for reminders and smells. I’m ready. Now playing is John Lennon – Watching The Wheels Go Round and Round. I’ve just been listening to music today. No TV. No books. Just music. Music heals everything. Music makes everything bearable. It always has. Tuesday I will be visiting and listening to Tabitha’s Secret. 

April 20, 2020

Walmart. The air felt weird. I felt watched. Like I was in a movie watching myself. The noise from the cart wheeling across the parking lot was loud. I heard a Mellencamp song in the distance. Jack and Diane. It was coming from a car that had seen its better days. It was riddled with dents and scratches and scrapes. I could hear the music all the way to my car. The whole day felt weird. 

The wind is howling, but at least the sun is shining. When I was at Walmart I noticed myself buying things I didn’t really need. Pens and Easter candy. The candy was 75 percent off, so a guess a bag of chocolate for 74 cents is a good deal. I will take them to work. I don’t need them here. I bought some bunny repellant since they seem to be eating my flowers that are coming up. The hard-earned flowers. 

April 21, 2020

It’s chilly this morning — 37 degrees. My way to the cemetery was deliberate. I took the long way. About six songs worth. 70s songs. Donna Summer; Magnet and Steel; Let It Ride – BTO; Still The One – Orleans; Don’t Look Back – Boston and Never Can Say Goodbye – Jackson 5. 

The sun is shining and the birds are chirping and singing. I hear traffic and a helicopter. I turned down the wrong lane at first. There is a headstone above his now. The person’s name was Otis something. It threw me off. 

My FB memories popped up and it was a picture, a picture of Dad. Young dad. Boy can I see my kids in that face. I love that picture. 

It’s peaceful here this morning as I sit and sip my coffee. I try to imagine what you would look like. You are still the same fixed in my memory. 60. Too young. 80 now. 

I’m sitting in the car, getting ready to take the ten steps to the headstone. The grass is wet with frost and dew. It’s crunchy beneath my feet. I gently brush off the grass clippings from the stone with my hand. It’s pretty here. I know you like it. The bluffs and the river close by. 

Happy Birthday to you, Dad. 

It seems like there are so many more headstones since I was here last. I saw Mabes McDorman. I saw Bonnie Baade. I saw classmate Bryan Pogany and I saw a good friend today. I saw Mike Hawkins. I stopped and talked to him, his birthday is Thursday.  I can’t believe he has been gone two years already. Miss you friend. 

I drove around several more minutes looking at the markers. So many people I know. 

This time of year always brings about the flood of emotions. It doesn’t get any easier, it just has a slight discoloration. 

I finished the puzzle today.