Aging

I can't look too long in one singular spot

For I may find something that I had forgot 

A wrinkle a dark spot a blemish a mole 

Ugh time sure has taken it's toll

Things have all shifted 

To where they don't belong 

And other things I've lost them

They're just simply gone

My waist line for one

It vanished it did

Without a word where it was going 

adieu did not bid

Age gracefully young people have the nerve to say

Well I don't see them rushing to dye their hair gray

I once couldn't drink without showing ID

Now the kids at the bar are eighteen years younger than me

I shouldn't complain

I've done lots in my life

But if this gets much worse 

I'm going under the knife 

  

Snaek peak at my new book 'Aberrant'

1
Today
I was staring out the window as I usually did; it’s the best way I have found to not accidentally look at one of them. By 'them' I mean the Painfully Perfects If they were to catch me looking at them again I would be in for it. And I knew all too well what 'it' was.
The sky was the color of blue that usually appears on a postcard, along with a beach and 'wish you were here' written mockingly across the top. I was lost in the sky and the few clouds that I could see, one in particular that was shaped like a face of a great mystical dragon. With horns on the top of its head, and fire coming out of its mouth. Another was shaped like a bunny, how odd that the pair would be in the same sky, so close to each other.
My mind had completely drifted from my control, I had no chance in hearing Mrs. Johnston call on me to answer the question, on the whatever it was that she was teaching the class, let alone getting the question right.
I sheepishly dropped my eyes as low as I could while she scolded my ignorance and lack of attention. I added my apologies in all the right places, and assured her that I would refrain from looking outside again. Making it now even harder to keep my eyes from the Painfully Perfect.
The painfully perfect, was a clever name I had come up with for the group of popular kids in my Grade ten class at Echo’s one and only high school. They were the kids that everyone wanted to be, or at least be friends with. They were perfect. Good looking, rich, smart, like I said, perfect. The painfully part, was what they inflicted on me, pain.
I twirled my hair around my finger, counting the number of times it went around, a trick I had thought myself when I first started school, it kept my mind busy so it didn't wander where it shouldn't. Twirling and untiring, counting away. I was so focused on my hair I hadn't noticed the bell had rang and the class was almost empty.
"Thirteen times around, that’s the most so far." Said a voice I had heard enough times to know whom it belonged to. I looked up at Sebastian, for just a brief second, to make sure he was really there. He was. And then I did exactly what I would expect myself to do. I ran, I left my books and pencil case along with my diary, how could I be so careless? And I ran out of the classroom, down the hall and right into the girl’s bathroom.
I felt a bit dizzy, most likely the result of getting up too fast, not to mention the gold medal timing of my sprint. What on earth did he do that for? Why would Sebastian Dale, a well know member of the Painfully Perfects talk to me? He didn't only talk to me; he knew the number of twirls, why would he know that? Was he watching me? Why? Why would he?
My heart was racing, I was sure I was going to have a heart attack right there. This was it, it was over, my life was coming to its end right there in the girls bathroom. Gross. I closed my eyes, made my piece with god and was ready. God however was not ready yet.
I let out a curse, which I liked to do as long as there was no body around to hear me. I left the bathroom, only to find my books, pencil case and my untouched, as far as I could tell, diary on the floor outside the door. I looked around, down the hallway both ways, no body was there. I wasn’t sure how they had got there, I assumed Mrs. Johnston, but it didn’t matter really. I was late for my next class. The classroom door was open, thank goodness. That would make sneaking in undetected, easy. The teacher was turned facing the blackboard, his nail scraping along with the chalk as he wrote out an impossible math equation.
I was almost at my seat, I smiled, just slightly, I shouldn't have. I saw her foot whip out in front of me, but it was too late. I fell to the floor with a thud. If the sound of my fall hadn't been enough to alert the teacher of my late arrival, the laughter of the class surely was. At least their noise hid my cry of pain and humiliation. I gathered my things and scurried to my desk. Trying not to notice the few kids that were kicking around my pencil case, and stepping on it. I hid my tears with my hair when I heard the distinct sound of my new iPod crushing under the foot of a Perfect. I was well aware of the trouble I would be in for that when my parents found it. All the wonderful thoughts of Sebastian were removed and replaced by my embarrassment.
I didn't even bother picking up my pencil case. When class was over I rushed out, watching my feet the whole way to my locker. I then vowed that from that moment on, to continue watching only my feet when I walked forever!
There was one flaw with my great plan of feet watching, that I should have foreseen. I was unable to watch were I was going and watch my feet at the same time; it was just a matter of time until I moronically walked right into someone. It was just my luck that, that some one was Katie Jacobs, head Perfect.
"Ewe, you stupid cow! Why don't you watch where you are going?" Katie snapped, there was a familiar smugness to her voice that was usually present when she was scolding someone for their intolerant behaviour. My finger mover so quickly to my hair and begun twirling it that hadn't noticed, until I realized it was stuck.
"Sorry." I said quietly and hurried away, trying to pull my finger loose. I took my time at my locker, making sure I had a clear path out the doors and to the school bus.
I was the last one on the bus, a common occurrence. I was so shocked to see my usual seat at the very front was taken; no body ever sat in the front seat but me, which was most likely why no one else sat there. But regardless, I was not about to ask the large boy holding the football in such a way that indicated he would throw it if needed, to move out of my seat. I looked around quickly, quite to my surprise, there was a whole empty seat three from the back. I had never sat that close to the back of the bus before, it was a little exciting, but terrifying at the same time, who was I to sit at the back? I was out of my league, that seat was not for me, I shouldn’t even think about it. No I should just get off the bus and walk home, that was the only thing that I could do.
“Sit down, we are waiting for you.” The bus driver called out. I knew he was talking to me, of course I was the only fool still standing up.
I walked carefully, somehow managing to look at both my feet, and where I was going at the same time, so as not to continue my humiliation.
I was smiling uncontrollably, no matter how hard I tried; my face was refusing to cooperate. I wasn't even bothered that the three seats behind me were filled with Perfects. I was sitting the closest to the back of the bus ever.
I sat facing the front and the backs of the heads of those who were not as fortunate as I was to be sitting three rows from the back. I was lost in my daydreams. What if moving closer to the back of the bus was just the beginning? Who knows, next I could actually sit at a table in the lunchroom. Instead of on the stairs in the back hallway. Things were looking up, I could feel it, and it was somehow perfect that every other seat was filled; it was as though the seat had been left empty just for me. The bus ride wewnt by far too quickly, as things we enjpoy usually do.
When the bus reached my stop, I was snapped right back to reality. I was right, it was perfect, or I should say, the Perfects. They had saved that seat just for me, I should have known really, and while I was busy day dreaming, they were busy duckt taping my hair to the bus seat.
When I tried to stand up at my stop, I was yanked back to the seat. The Painfully Perfect had struck again. The entire bus was laughing hysterically. I could feel my tears flowing already, I had no hope in stopping them. I panicked, I didn't know what to do, how to get myself unstuck. Would I have to stay there on the bus until everyone else was off and hope the bus driver would help me? I couldn't, I just could not bare the laughing, why did they do this to me? I was devastated and angry at the same time. I just wasn't sure if I was more angry at them for doing this to me, or at myself for being such a pathetic victim all the time. Well no more, I wasn't going to stay there any longer.
I grabbed my bag, braced myself, and pulled as hard as all my strength would allow. I could feel some strands snapping right in the middle, but some felt like my hair was ripping from my scalp in chuncks. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before in my life, but I didn't care, was free.
I ran from the bus, not looking back, but I didn't stop, I kept running all the way to the harbour, a good twenty minutes in the opposite direction to my house. I was out of breath, still crying and in pain. The taste of blood in my mouth and the trouble I was having catching my breath was all that stopped me from throwing myself into the lake. I had heard that it was impossible to drown yourself but I was willing to give it a try anyway. Ewe, the water looked gross, I was going to need a new plan.
The harbour was not really much of a harbour, more like a wooden pier with a few rowboats tied loosely to it, with a sign saying 'Use at your own risk'
The water between the mainland and the island was supposedly too filled with weeds to run motorboats in; they would just get all tangled up in the engine.
I hoped into the first row boat I came too, throwing my bag in first a little too hard, it almost went straight over the boat on the other side. Once I was seated on the decrepit wooden bench; I grabbed the oars and was off. Rowing with all my might, I was determined to make it all the way to the island without even stopping to rest my arms. I don’t know why the island was the place I was heading. I had never been there before, and never really paid much attention to it before. It was nothing more than a bump in the middle of the lake. No body ever really bothered with the island or the lake, there was no beach really, I think there used to be, I had seen pictures of the town from years ago and there was a beach in them, but it was never taken care of I guess, its now nothing more than rocks and mud. But whatever the reason, the island was were I was heading.

My Journey 6

Earlier in my blog I talked about how my new journey of fitness, good health and all that, was taking time away from writing. I still believe this to be case, however, I am discovering that what I once believed to be true, that ‘everything happens for a reason’ is in fact the absolute truth.
I am not one to give up on anything that I desire. When told ‘no’, my head understands that to mean, ‘yes, even more so yes’. ‘You can’t do it’ to mean ‘you now absolutely must do it’. I think you get the idea. This is in no means meant to be acts of defiance, simply fuel for my determination. This is to be said also when it is I doing the nay saying.
What better way to pass the time while riding off the pounds on the stationary bike, than to write five hundred words? A task that is not as easily performed on the elliptical, however, can be done on the treadmill, with caution. Now I am aware that this is not something that will work for everyone, and at times it may not work for me. Although as I lay here in bed at 2:00 am writing this, while I sooth my injured buttocks with a heating pad, after loosing track of the time and riding the bike for and hour and thirteen minutes, writing over one thousand words, and being alerted that I had rode far to fast for far too long by my right butt cheek seizing up and refusing to let go. I would say it is going pretty good for me so far.
We have to remember there is always more than one path to take to get to where we want to be. Even if it isn’t laid out for us, we simply need to make our own.
We can have our cake and eat it to. (great, now I want cake) you just have to find the fork to eat it with.

My Journey 5

Finally! My first little win on the road to reaching my goal, came in the form of $300 jeans I had couldn’t fit into four weeks ago when I first joined the gym. The scale has nothing compared to fitting into your favorite jeans again.
They were my first clue that I had gained too much weight, I remember the horrible names I called myself the first time I realized I had got too big to wear them. I remember the immense amount of guilt and shame I felt, not only for the weight I had gained but for the $300 my husband had spent on each of the two pairs of jeans I had begged him for. I told myself I was not worthy of wearing any of my expensive clothes (not that I would have fit in to them) if I was going to gain weight then I was going to have to wear $10 Walmart sweat pants, the closet full of LuLu Lemmon was of limits to me!
Now I am sure this is not the ideal way to self motivate, but for someone like me that loves to shop! Loves the brand names! Loves to wear whatever I want! It works.
When I put my jeans on and they fit again, I was ecstatic, I complimented myself, and showered myself with pride. There is no other feeling like it, accomplishment. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a long way to go, and a lot more clothes that I am not quite able to fit into, but I am making progress. This little win has given me motivation to keep going, the assurance that getting up at 5:00 to go to the gym is worth it, and the strength to reach for my class of water instead of a pop, or a snack.
I do see why some people can get discouraged when working out and not seeing the results they hoped for. I for one was definitely an unrealistic goal setter, and was extremely disappointed when I didn’t meet my first goal. But I am glad I found the strength to keep going, and now I am finding it is something you can almost become addicted to. But if my addiction is being healthy, that is probably a good thing.

My Journey entry 4

5:00 AM and I are quickly becoming good friends, something I never thought would happen. It has been a struggle to go to bed early, I am giving up some of my writing time, a time that is so sparse as it is. I feel myself torn between looking and feeling good and doing what I love. This whole journey feels that way really. I have given up most of the foods that I enjoy, the sugary candy, pop, desserts and such. I have cut my portions in half at meal times, leaving me feeling hungry, deprived and unsatisfied. I have given up on some sleep to drag myself to the gym at a ghastly hour of the day. I have given up my self comfort and felt exposed in awkward positions, red faced and breathing funny, in front of the entire gym, granted no body was looking at me at all, they were all busy doing their own workout, but I was uncomfortable never the less. And now on top of it all I have to give up some of my writing time. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s just not fair!!!
I don’t see why after just a few months of winter that I look like the abominable snowman. Or why father time can’t see how busy I am and kindly extend the hours in the day to accommodate me? I don’t feel that I am asking too much, I mean really it wasn’t my fault that it snowed and was so cold all winter that I wasn’t able to go for walks every day. Sure I could have joined the gym earlier but the snow and cold were outside, and I would have had to go outside to drive to the gym. And yeah, maybe I could have given the wii fit a better chance but it was chilly in my basement and I got board.
Okay so maybe it is my fault, but it is just so easy to gain weight, not so easy get rid of it. I am tired and hungry for something fattening.
But wait, I tried on my jeans that were not going on without vise grips, and they are on and buttoned up, and I can still breath! That has to be a good sign right? That must mean its working, something is going the way it should.
I suppose I could just PVR the shows I really want to watch, there is only two any way. Then I could go to bed an hour or so earlier and write then, and maybe a healthy dessert may fix that craving, along with a glass of water at meal times.
Okay motivation is setting in again, a new desire to meet my goals is taking over.
Thanks to my favorite True Religion jeans!

My Journey entry 3

May 5th, it has been 15 days since I began my journey to a better, fitter me. I'm not there yet, and sadly I am disappointed. I will admit that I had completely unrealistic expectations. I wanted the results to be instant and fabulous. I am aware that it took me months to gain all this extra weight and it is going to take me months to get rid of it. But summer is approaching far too quickly and my spring wardrobe is just sitting in my closet calling my name. I do keep torturing myself by trying on items from my closet that I know will not fit me yet. I am sure it is just a sick form of self-motivation.
I have been very committed to the gym, attending between 4-6 times per week as well as enjoying the spring weather and going for my usual hour-long walk 6-7 times per week also. All this work just has to start paying off soon, I hope.
According to my husband, it already is, he seems to see something that I don't. But isn't that usually the case? I'm sure I am not the only female that has an idea of what their body looks like that, according to friends and family, is almost double what it actually is.
I am trying not to worry about what the scale says, after spending the first week weighing myself every time I went to the gym, woke up in the morning and before I went to bed. After suffering the self torture of "yay I lost a pound" then the next day, "oh no I gained 2 pounds" then "yay I lost 4 pounds" but then "oh no I gained 3 pounds" and so on. Yes sadly it took me a full seven days to figure out that maybe I should just stay off the scale for a while and see how things go. I decided that I could weigh myself every Sunday morning at the gym. As scales often differ and nobody will weigh the same in the morning as they do at the end of the day.
I have 15 days until my next weigh in and measurements and I am thinking that I may have to rethink my goal of loosing all 23 pounds to take me from 123 to 100 pounds and aim for something a bit more realistic. The person at the gym that did my measurements that told me a typical and healthy rate of weight loss is 1-2 pounds per week, so that would mean 8 pounds in a month would be the most I should expect. So reluctantly I will be happy with that. After all, I do want to do this healthily in the hopes it will become a lifestyle change instead of a diet and weight loss, as they can often be a short-term result and you can end up gaining back almost twice as much as you lost in the first place. That I would not be happy with at all!

My Journey entry 2

I have been doing very good on my fitness journey so far, much better than I had thought I would do that's for sure.
I have been going to the gym very regularly; I have even been getting up at 5:30 in the morning to go to the gym before work some days. And I am so not a morning person! But I want to get to the point that I love my body! I want to be able to wear everything in my closet without covering it up with an over sized sweatshirt. I want to feel good, look good and regain the confidence I used to have.
I show up at the gym ready to work my butt off, literally. I am a shy person in this new shape of mine and I never have been one for walking around a changing room exposed. So I show up in my work out clothes and I leave the same way. Oh how I wish the other females would do the same! Now you may think that this is childish, immature, snobby or even homophobic of me. But you would be wrong. In fact the situation has never bothered me before, until one day last week when I was transported into something from National Lampoons movie right there in my gyms changing room.
I walked into the changing room and my mouth dropped. There was eight of the most beautiful firm bodied woman I had ever seen. They were from a volleyball team, yay. That did absolutely nothing my own body image. They were tall, thin beautiful and blonde. I stood there, short, chubby, ordinary, and brunet. To make matters worse, they were all happy and laughing, topless and jumping up and down (That's were the National Lampoons part comes in).
I am sure I have lost all male readers at this point, and before they left into their own fantasy thoughts and begin debating joining the gym, they said "yeah, sounds like a good day, what's the problem?" Men lol
But ladies, you get my point right? I mean how are we supposed to not want to crawl into a pair of baggy sweats with an over sized sweater and eat a gallon of ice cream, which would definitely not help the reason we are there at the gym in the first place?
There should be a rule, not showing off your beautiful bodies at the gym.
I quickly put my things into my locker, made sure my baggy soccer jersey and sweats were covering all my extra lumps and bumps, headed out into the gym and marched right up to the elliptical and ran like I was chasing a volleyball players body of my own. I spent the next hour and a half doing the best workout I have ever done. I felt great, I felt like I was on my way to getting my own shorter, smaller breasted brunet, volleyball body.
Maybe beautiful bodies should be all over the gym after all.