This week, I’m still recovering from my ankle injury, so my step count is still low, but better. 4,400 average, high of 6,000, low of 2,100. I’m still hovering around 170, which is way too much and that makes me sad, but apparently not sad enough to quit eating all the food.
I’m right back in the pattern of over-eating at night while I assure myself I’ll do better tomorrow. Not helpful. I’ve been thinking about new goals, or intentions, for FFF 2.0. I definitely need some.
So I wanted to jump right into setting goals – make some shit stuff up and commit to it. But I don’t think that’s actually going to work. So I think I’ll spend some time thinking about it this weekend and try to figure out how I want to tackle it this time. (What? Finger tapping? Yeah, um, the problem is you have to actually do it. Consistently. Sigh…)
Anyhow. In more interesting news – have youall heard about the Netflix series Bonding? It’s about a Domme, supposedly. The BDSM community is fairly outraged about it. You can read some of the reactions here. (The link is also at the bottom of the article.)
My favorite complaint about it is that they have the Domme wearing a collar and a corset that doesn’t fit. That’s funny.
Not so funny is the lack of understanding about consent and the way the history of sexual assault was treated. Sigh… As one twitter commenter noted:
If you’re curious about just how bad it is, here’s the trailer for it. If you can’t see the video now, you can find it on YouTube by searching Bonding trailer (obviously…)
I am curious about whether other people have already watched the actual series and what you thought about it…
She who reconciles the ill-matched threads Of her life, and weaves them gratefully Into a single cloth – It’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall And clears it for a different celebration.
— Rainer Maria Rilke
The Mother’s Day we have is not big enough to hold all of a woman’s heart on Mother’s Day. Women need a different celebration. The Mother’s Day we have is a holiday of marketing and hype. It doesn’t represent women’s experience. It represents profit. In The US alone it is a 21 billion dollar industry. You can’t open your email, go in to a CVS or grocery store, or the mall without being bombarded by messages about Mother’s Day. You literally can’t get away from it for weeks. It is most telling that the founder of Mother’s Day, Anna Jarvis was so troubled by how the holiday became a marketing holiday rather than the sacred holiday she had intended, that she spent most of her life trying to remove the holiday from the calendar.
Women need a different celebration because the current celebration is one-sided. The current celebration is entirely too small to hold the experience that women have with the word mother, with the role of mother, with the relationship as a mother, and a relationship to a mother. I don’t want to take any of the joy out of the holiday for the women who feel joy. Joy belongs there. Celebration belongs there. Satisfaction and appreciation belong there. But our current cultural stranglehold on Mother’s Day keeps out the other very real parts of women’s lives. It forces women to put on only a happy face when they are often holding so much more. Yes, there is joy on Mother’s Day, but there is also much sorrow and loss—often invisible losses. And because of the mandate on happiness and flowers and all things wrapped in bows—women are asked to smile and hold their losses alone. On a day when they are being ‘celebrated’ women are often left entirely isolated in their own experience—especially with regards to loss.
And the losses are many. Remember that women count all of their children on Mother’s Day—the born, the unborn, the living, the dead. It is a day of mourning for women who lost children to miscarriage or to death, as much as it is a celebration of the children they love and cherish. It can be a day of mourning for the women who gave their babies up for adoption and for some women who chose to have abortions—for the difficult decisions that they had to make. It can be a day of mourning or loss for the women who weren’t able to have children or who chose not to. A reminder of what was not and what will never be. There are also the children who are lost to addiction, to jail, to mental illness, to estrangement. Women count all of their babies—the ones who are here and not here, the ones they can hold, and the ones they can’t.
And on this day women are asked to hold the relationship to their own mothers in whatever form that holds. So many women who loved their mothers dearly and whose mothers have died are acutely aware of the woman they can no longer celebrate in the way they want, can no longer hold, and talk to on this day. Or maybe their mothers are sick, or have Alzheimers—still living, but no longer the person they were. For these women, no matter how joyous the relationship with their own children, families, relationships—Mother’s Day can make them feel raw, and sore, with a deep, deep sense of sorrow or longing. The absence of mother is felt as a gaping hole.
And sometimes this gaping hole isn’t from the loss of something wonderful, it is from the loss of what never was: for the women who were unmothered—hurt, abused, neglected by the very person who was supposed to fill their lives with safety and care. For the women who have spent many years learning to mother themselves. Mother’s Day, and the Hallmark cards that mark the occasion, is a reminder of the childhood that never was and never can be—of things they could never say about their mother because we live in a world that believes that all mothers are good. It is a reminder of what they didn’t get and all the hard work of healing that they had to do to become who they are now.
So let’s work to create a different celebration that would support a woman to hold her joy and her sorrows. Her joys as a mother and her losses as a mother. Her joys of her mother and her losses of a mother. Let’s work to support a woman to hold the love she has of her children with the sorrows of the children that couldn’t be. Let’s create a different celebration that doesn’t ask a woman to hold only one side of her story about mothers and motherhood on Mother’s Day. Let’s create a different celebration that allows her to hold all of her experience so that she may weave them gratefully into a single cloth. Let’s make the celebrations and conversations as big as the hearts of the women we are celebrating.
My ankle is still bothering me, so I’m taking it slow – getting 2 or 3 thousand steps a day is about as good as it gets, and I’m pretty ok with that. Not great, but ok.
This whole thing will be quick and to the point. I need to re-do my goals or intentions. I really do just frigging need to start over. Sigh. Yes, it’s exhausting. This is why people don’t want to live forever. There. That’s my FFF check-in.
I had some weird dreams last night and at one point this young man, who I didn’t know, but he was supposedly a doctor, asked me if I was about 28 weeks pregnant. In the dream, I was righteously indignant for a second, and then I started laughing at the idea that a doctor would think that a woman in her sixties was pregnant, and then I thought, “Oh wait a minute, maybe that means I look young enough that I could be pregnant!”
Obviously, it was one of those long dreams with lots of nuance that switches from one thing to another. At one point, I was about to find out how much money someone had sent me or given me. There was a check for forty dollars, and then there was a drawing I’d done as a child and then there was certificate for stocks, but I never got to see how much it was, the scene shifted and that story fell away to be replaced by something about meetings in hotels – conferences, not romantic trysts. Lots of wandering the halls and going into the wrong meeting room.
Anyhow, I’m awake now, it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, I’m taking the grands out adventuring today and that will be fun. It’s Mother’s Day here in the U.S. on Sunday, and for the first time in years, my daughter is in the same country – same city – um, same house. How cool is that? She’s really thriving here, and that’s such a gift.
Remember that weight loss I celebrated in September? Well. It’s gone. Yep. I am just about back to where I was before I started FFF 1.0 in early 2018. February to September was all about losing – September to now has been all about gaining it back.
Over the weekend, we had friends at the house. This was new and exciting, but that’s not what I need to talk about.
You know, where we lived before, I had known people for ages. But Where-We-Live-Now, I haven’t know any of these folks for long. So I’m meeting all these new people, and they’re at our house for the first time, and that’s ok. Now, in my living area, we have a small picture frame on the top of the bookshelf with a picture of me and another one of my sister in our youth.
So this very nice young woman, who I had only seen a couple of times before, looks at the picture and says, “Who’s this?” pointing at my pic.
So of course, I say, “It’s me.”
She looks at me. She looks at the picture. “Really?” she says.
“Um, yes, really.”
“How old were you then?’
With a shrug, “Maybe 30.”
She looks at me, looks at the picture again. “Oh, yeah, I can see it now,” and she smiles.
It’s not til later that the implications of this sink in. Y’all. People who knew me when I was young have always still recognized me. In the grocery, wherever. People I went to high school with would call out my name. But apparently my youthful picture doesn’t look enough like the “me” that I am now at a glance. Or two. She almost couldn’t believe it was me.
The next day, I weighed myself and discovered that I had gained back all my weight. Sigh.
So I went into a panic, a frenzy of self-disparaging, bitter commentary railing at my lack of self-discipline, ugliness, and generally being less than the person I want to be. To avoid despair, I conceived Plan A, which involves taking a dietary supplement that helps push your body into ketosis while still allowing 100 grams of carbs a day (or milligrams, whatever…) Someone I know sells this and has been using it herself with really amazing effects. I was pretty happy with plan, until I saw how much it would cost, and had to accept the harsh financial reality of “not this week, olivia. Or next week either.”
Plan B was just to quit eating altogether, which would have the combined benefit of making me lose weight and save money. But it’s not a sustainable plan.
For Plan C, I began thinking about root causes and how it’s not just me that has this problem. I thought about the times I’ve been able to lose weight pretty easily. That led me down another sad track – I lose weight easily when I’m engaged in a relationship that is, um, sexually engaging. Or on the verge of one. And then when I’m not… I comfort the little sexy side of myself with food instead.
Which is not to blame anyone, right? It’s my body, my life, my frigging responsibility. Sigh.
And I realized that put me right back where I was when I started this blog in March of 2016, and where I was when I decided I needed a Dom on the side. I don’t think I can do that dance again – not the looking for a new Dom dance or the getting MP to be my Dom again dance. (Although I kind of think this might be one phase of the {stupid} dance.)
Anyhow, I finally decided to try something new. Finger tapping. Well, not just tapping my fingers, Emotional Finger Tapping, which is a process. There are, of course, apps and videos on you tube. I’m doing a videos in the morning and then tapping throughout the day when I need to. So far, it seems to be helping, although in fairness, everything helps at first. Thanks to the Willpower book, which I never finished, and other work I’ve half-assed done over the years, I recognize my moments of feel inadequate – crave carbs pretty quickly and that’s when I tap.
I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about tapping here before, but if not, here’s a video that goes through an example of how to do it.
If you can’t access the video here, go to YouTube – Jessica Ortner, Tapping for Weight Loss and Body Confidence.
Anyhow, you make up your own thing to say to yourself while you do it, so that’s helpful for me. Lots of “Even though I want to fix {fill in the blank} I know I can’t and that’s ok. I don’t have to eat to feel better and i can love and accept myself the way I am.” I’m not feeling overwhelmed and fat and hopeless so much anymore, so that’s something. At least I’m back in the game…
My daughter brought home new toothbrushes from the grocery today. Here’s a picture of them.
There are 10 bright neon, multicolored toothbrushes, clearly labeled:
Multi Action Massage
Big Deal
10 Pack
Is it just me or does that seem a bit kinky? Multi Action Massage? How many kinds of {giggle} action can you get out of a toothbrush? And what parts would you like to have massaged with that little brush? {more giggling…} We won’t even go into whether it could actually be a BIG DEAL or not. {I’m voting not.}
No, thank you very much, I may be a bit kink-deprived, ok, a lot kink-deprived, but I will pass on the toothbrush multi-action massage. {Wanders off still giggling…}
I was on a roll. Over 10,000 steps last Saturday then I was hitting my goal every day – til Wednesday.
Wednesday, I headed to the coffee shop, walking up, earbuds in, moving with my music. Right in front of the coffee shop, trying to decide if I wanted an iced latte or chai tea, grooving to the sound of Sly and the Family Stone, I was oblivious to the dip in the pavement, caught my toe, and fell, face first, onto the pavement. Glasses, phone, earbuds flying…
I caught myself, my head just barely touching the concrete before I pulled it back up. I lay there for a second while 4 or 5 people rushed over to me. Yes, I’m old enough that seeing me fall freaks people out.
THey brought water, sympathy, the offer to call an ambulance. I sat up assuring everyone I was ok, no need for an ambulance, I would call my husband, no, I’m sure, I’m ok.
But I couldn’t walk. My ankle ballooned up quickly. So someone pulled a chair over for me, helped me into it and I texted MP, who rode to the rescue. Albeit slowly because he has mobility issues of his own, right?
And then, in the middle of the rescue efforts, he accidentally locked his keys in the vehicle. Which he’d left with the engine running. I was laughing, because really, it was just funny, but the other key was at home so I had to text my daughter, who was out, to go get the key and bring it up for us. Which she did. And all was well.
Except for my stupid ankle, which was swollen and hurt. A lot. Ice, rest, elevation, ibuprofen and arnica were my friends. And an elastic bandage after the first day. It’s much, much better now, although not 100% yet.
As for my step count – bwhahahaha, you can imagine! 1,317 on Thursday. Friday I was clearly better with a whopping 2,322. I may hit 3,000 today.
Not that I’m complaining. If I’d hit a bit harder, my head might have landed harder, I might not have been able to pull it back in time, and that would have been bad. I could have broken my ankle. All of those things would have been worse. So I’m truly not complaining about my (lack of) step count.
Also, I had people at home to fetch and carry stuff and make sure I had ibuprofen and food and everything. I’d have been screwed otherwise. So to speak.
It is making me wonder if I need to change my approach to walking. This is the 3rd or 4th time I’ve not been paying attention and have fallen. Or have fallen and realized I was not paying attention. How many times is a wake-up call?
Ok, in other news, today is the first Saturday in May and you know what that is, right? YES! Naked Gardening Day.
I’m posting this festive meme with the plump, naked red-haired woman, garlands of flowers covering her private bits, hair flowing, all smiles, dancing in the garden. No, I will not be gardening, naked or clothed. How about you?
I don’t know where the day went yesterday. I had a client at 8 am and a steady flow of meetings after that, which meant i had to do a bunch of stuff before my client, which meant here i am now. Not that it matters…
My step count is back at its usual levels, averaging 5,774. The range is wider then it used to be – my high was 11,035 while my low was 2,200. But I’m a bit irritated at myself for not doing better than that. I haven’t done very well with my morning rituals either and I’m eating too much. Glucose levels aren’t bad.
I haven’t been reading the Willpower book or the one about Things You Can Only See When You Move Slowly or whatever the name of it was. I started Brene Brown’s Braving the Wilderness, which is just as lovely as her books always are.
I finally got my nails done (6 or 7 weeks since last time, which is too long.) Having just read NJ’s post about her nails and Frank, I’m feeling some kind of way about the fact that I pay somebody to do mine. Not actually guilty, but maybe a bit inadequate on the girly side? True confessions, I never succeeded at rolling my hair on cans either, and all the girls did that back in my day. But I got my first pedicure probably 20 years ago and never looked back. I used to color my own hair until I accidentally turned it goth black and I haven’t done that since either.
Anyhow, I think I’m inching my business marketing plan forward. It’s not like the week was a complete waste.
My house is kind of a mess – too much stuff just piling up around me. I tend to let that happen and then it starts driving me crazy and then I clean it up. I guess that’s as good a way to do it as any, but I have this fantasy where I don’t let it pile up in the first place. Ultimately though, that falls into the range of “things I’d like to be different, but only if it can happen without any effort on my part.”
We had a lovely weekend last week, and are going adventuring today too. MP is coming with us today, which is unusual and particularly nice. He and I have done well with going out together, just the two of us, one night a week, so that’s been pleasant and fun. Good times ahead…
“The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say” ~ J.R.R.Tolkien
