Princesses Should Not Have Dirty Feet.

I digress a little today. This is for Miss Isabella, my only granddaughter.

Princesses Should Not Have Dirty Feet
by: Kim York

Isabella was a princess. She lived in a castle with the king and the queen, two brothers, and her grandmother. Princess Isabella loved to go barefoot and her grandmother was always saying to her, “Isabella, princesses should not have dirty feet.” One day Isabella went to the courtyard in her bare feet and a ball gown. She saw one frog, two butterflies, and three lizards. She chased the frog and he hopped away. She watched the butterflies land on the roses and tore her ball gown on a thorn. She climbed the fence to catch the lizards, put them in a jar, and took them to her grandmother. “Isabella, look at you!  Your ball gown is torn and your hair is a mess. My goodness, child, princesses should not have dirty feet!” said her grandmother. Isabella looked at her grandmother. She ran toward grandmother’s throne, hopped on her lap, and hugged her neck. “I know, Grandmother,” said Isabella, “but explorers should have dirty feet.” So each day when Princess Isabella finished exploring, she would wash her feet and put on her pink sparkly shoes. After all princesses should not have dirty feet.

 

(Share this with your princesses. )

Small Victories

Wow! Time does fly, whether you are having fun or not. I haven't posted in a while because I have been working on other projects. In truth, I have written a book and started another. Now for the daunting task of trying to become a published author. Wish me luck.

Anyway, I decided to post an entry today because two good things happened. My son and his family are visiting from out of state and we were going out to lunch. I was trying to find something to wear in my meager selection of clothing. Just for fun, I tried on a top that was only a 1x. I have not worn a 1x for so many years that I truly cannot remember when I last did wear this size. To my extreme surprise, it fit! Now, in defense of the top, it was stretchy material. I did not wear it because I did not like the way my belly looked in it. It was fitted near the hips and this is not a flattering look for my belly. But it still made me smile. Six months ago, I could not have pulled that top over my body, stretchy or not. Now I can! Yay me!

Fitting into this top was my first good thing, now for my second good thing. When my son arrived to pick me up I got into the back of the car. Some of you may not be aware of this, but many times the seat belts in the back seat are not as long as the seat belts in the front. Quite often, in fact almost always, I cannot buckle the seat belt when I sit in the back seat. The last time I was in my son's back seat, I was seat belt-less because it would not fit. Today, I pulled and buckled with ease before I realized, "Hey, my seat belt is on!!!!" Once again, Yay me!

These may not be big things to many people, but to me they are major victories. I will keep up with the healthy lifestyle. It is working and I am not in a hurry. Now some of you may be saying, "Your son, his wife, and your two adorable grandbabies were visiting Florida all the way from Pennsylvania and your good things are shirts and seat belts?" Well, yes, because my family is not a good thing it is a GREAT thing.

Potato Chips

There is an old saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder. While there may be some truth to this saying as far as relationships are concerned, it is a little different with food. For most of my life I have been a potato chip addict. They were my comfort food, my stress reliever, and on occasion, my best friend. I sometimes would wait until my kids were in bed and my husband (now ex) was upstairs asleep and I would sit in the recliner, turn on whatever I wanted on the television, and savor a few chips. And a few more. And a few more and oops, where did that bag of chips go? If I was really stressed I would add a little (okay, a lot) of dip. When I was single and my son was away at college and my teenage daughter would be out with friends for the evening, I would have chips and dip for dinner, followed by peanut M&Ms for dessert. Hey, I had a very stressful life. The point here is, I love potato chips. Anytime. Any place. For any reason. Potato chips, however, are like a dysfunctional  relationship; you may love them, but they are harming you.

Getting out of a bad relationship is not easy. Trust me on this one, I have been divorced twice. I have first hand knowledge of bad relationships. Fear of the unknown is a powerful thing. It makes you continue doing whatever it is you know because you are afraid of what may happen if you change your lifestyle. But bad is bad, whether it is a relationship with a person or with a bag of rippled chips and French onion dip. You must choose to stay or walk away. A few months ago, I walked away from my old friend. I chose to commit to a healthier lifestyle. I have been eating mostly vegetarian food and cut out lots of fat and most bad carbs. You know what? It hasn't been that bad. I find that I crave chips much less than I did before. I will admit that I have had them on a few rare occasions, but they just weren't like I remembered them. Oh they were good, just not satisfying. I found myself wanting tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions with a little Italian dressing.

Sometimes I do not believe that this is me. That I want to eat vegetables and fruits. Where did this person come from? I hope she stays. My new cravings are for watermelon and Honey Crisp apples. I love my new vegetarian chili recipe and eat it at least once a week. I never knew how good whole grain pasta with vegetarian sauce could be. I love to cook and have been experimenting with lots of recipes.  They are good. I would order them in a restaurant. The best part? My pants are getting looser and my tops are getting longer. I have a very long way to go, but I am going. I am headed in the right direction and am enjoying it. My son is coming to visit in a few weeks and he already knows that we are having veggie chili and vegan sloppy joes. I do not consider myself a vegetarian or vegan, but my diet includes mostly those types of food. If I can figure out how to post some pics on this blog, I will post a few pics of some of my meals. They look as good as they taste.

Anyway, my relationship with food is improving and finally becoming a functional, healthy relationship. Now if that would just carry over into my choice in men. Well, we can't move mountains all the time.

$1.00 a Day

Lately I have been working on other projects and have not been writing on the blog much. Well, here I am and as usual I have something to say. This morning I was watching TV and a commercial came on for a diet product. I watched and was intrigued by the claims that "fat literally melted off," and also that, "you did not need to change a thing. Eat as you always have and take [this pill] and the weight will melt off." Finally something dawned on me: this is false hope marketed to people who have become hopeless. What is the cost of hope? Apparently it is $1.00 a day for this product. I have seen it much more expensive, but this one plays right into people's emotions. Did I mention that the disclaimer at the bottom listed patients losing 3.8 pounds over an 8-week period. That is LESS than one-half pound a week. Therefore, as consumers, we are willing to pay $7.00 a week (plus shipping and handling) to lose less than one-half pound. Putting this onto perspective, if you need to lose 100 pounds it will take you 4 years and cost $1,460. My guess is you will have given up long before then. People, wake up! Stop drinking Coke for a week, lose 1/2 pound and put $3.50 or more in your pocket.

Weight loss marketing is insanity! Why? Because those of us who have large amounts of weight to lose do not think that we can do it. We NEED someone, something to help us and guide us. It's a lie. There are two ways to lose weight: #1 Eat less or #2 Change the types of food you eat. Period. Diets may work, but very few people have permanent success from them. Look at Kirstie Alley. How many times in the last 25 years has she been fat, thin, fat, thin..... Look at yourself. Is this your cycle? It was mine until I finally gave up on losing weight. I had decided that I was destined to be fat, I liked food too much, and if people didn't like it just leave me alone. I lied. I am not destined to be fat. I made a choice to be fat. My choices were pizza, chips, cookies, ice cream, and the list continues. I liked them. I wanted them. I hid behind them. I made them my life. I am trying to fix that situation.

Recently, the past few weeks, I have been eating a healthier diet. I am cutting out most processed foods. I have been having 3-5 meatless meals each week. I have tried several vegan recipes. Now, I am not becoming a vegan, but I have to admit, the food has been exceptionally good and I have lost weight. My pants are getting loser and my shirts are getting longer. What I have found is, by eating healthy and finding recipes that taste good, my cravings are lessening. A few days ago I ate a handful of potato chips. They are one of my weaknesses and something I craved in the past. They were okay, but not as good as I remembered from a month ago. They felt greasy in my mouth and later that day I had stomach issues that sent me to the bathroom. I know it was the chips. Healthy food is a super hero; it takes away the need for junk.  I know that I will never be a vegetarian in full and someday I know I will have a steak, but I do not have the desire I had a few weeks ago. Earlier today I thought about beef and noodles and while I love them, I thought about how heavy they make my stomach feel and the thought left me.

I guess what I am trying to say is that by not looking at this as a diet and thinking, "when I hit my goal I will have......" that I have been making it a lifestyle. It feels good. It feels right. It feels like I do not need false hope at any price. Think about what foods you love and check out a vegan recipe. There are many on Pinterest. Give it a try. It is a very different mindset, as we tend to plan our meals around the meat. I am going to give you a quick and easy, although NOT a vegan,  recipe for my biggest diet downfall. It will help save me, as it satisfies my cravings and my taste buds. Plus the kids love it. I don't have to eat less, because I am changing how I eat. It seems to be working. Maybe I have found my miracle!

Kelly's Pizza (Kelly is my daughter who is on this quest with me.)

1 whole wheat pita bread per person
spaghetti sauce (We use the 99 cent a can Hunt's Traditional)
lowfat shredded mozzarella cheese (and a small amount of feta cheese for the grown-up's pizza)
mild banana pappers
diced green pepper, onions, mushrooms, olives, anything you like
turkey pepperoni

Spread sauce on pita breads (leave them whole). Sprinkle with cheese, add turkey pepperoni, and top with your favorite veggies. Lots of veggies= being full faster
Spray cookie sheet(s) with Pam. Bake at 400 degrees for 5-10 minutes depending on how crunchy you like the crust. Cool slightly. Cut into each pita into 4 pieces and enjoy!

Thoughtless

How many times do we go on auto pilot and do things that are thoughtless? Sometimes those things make no difference to anyone. Sometimes, however, our thoughtless act is devastating to another person. We may think nothing of it. We may not even realize that we have hurt another person. There are people who are very vocal about their feelings and voice their opinions loudly over hurts that are real or perceived. Yet there are many people who bottle those hurts up inside and push them down as far as they can with the intent of forgetting. Try as they might to forget, some hurts never go away.

I have not decided if empathy is a learned skill or an inherited trait. It seems as though some people have it and use it abundantly while others have it with an on/off switch, and still others do not have it at all. I remember saying to someone once that they should have some empathy for the situation and they scoffed that I wanted them to feel sorry for me. Empathy is not sympathy. Let me say that again. Empathy is not sympathy.

So if empathy is not sympathy then what it is? It is the ability to proactively know what may hurt another person's feelings. It is listening while a friend cries on your shoulder to help work through a problem. It is giving a child a hug because you can tell they need one. It is holding the door open for an elderly person struggling to walk into a store.It is using tact when you have something difficult to say. It is doing the right thing. If you look in a dictionary, it will not give you these definitions. They are mine. But I have thought about this for awhile. It seems that empathy is lacking in our society today. People do not care.

We have become so busy being our own people that we forget that others are people too. We are obsessed with OUR needs, OUR wants, OUR lives. Me, me, me! We say things that are deliberately unkind or even cruel because, well, hey, everyone else does it. We ignore how it may make someone feel. We don't care; we have no empathy.

So, this being said, I am going to challenge myself this week. Between now and next Friday I am going to make a point to (a) say something kind to a stranger, (b) hold a door for someone, (c) call a loved one and let them know I love them, (d) send a card to a nursing home with a note, "Please give this to a resident who receives no mail." It is a world that could be made better if we would take the time to do so. Do you have a challenge for yourself? If so, let us know. Let's make the world a better place this week.

Cliches

This post is dedicated to cliches that really do have an impact on our lives. Well, my life anyway. We all use them. They are something to say when there is nothing else to say. They are words to fill an uncomfortable silence. They are things we say because we know it drives our kids crazy and it is the small amount of payback a mom can get without actually being mean. Hey, they drive us crazy at times, so, well.....

"Hind sight is 20/20" I used to hear this as a kid and think, "what in the heck does that mean?" Now as an adult I know. Having 20/20 vision means you see perfectly. When we look back over our lives we see perfectly what we should have, would have, or could have done to make things better. Problem is, you can't live in the past nor can you change it.

Which leads us to: "Tomorrow is another day." Scarlett O'Hara was right when she said this. Tomorrow is another day to correct any mistakes we made today. However there is a problem with this cliche as well because, "Tomorrow never comes." We put off and say "tomorrow" when we really should be doing and saying "today." Finally one day we wake up and realize that the intentions for tomorrow were thought of 10 years ago and we still have not changed the problem. As for getting healthy, it has been 32 years for me. I know that because my son is now 32 and I have intended to lose weight since he was born. Frankly, my dear, that is a lot of tomorrows.

"Every cloud has a silver lining." Yes it does, only sometimes that lining is lead. Unless you are Superman hiding out from cryptonite, lead is not exactly a great thing for anyone. Sometimes it is just best to accept the disappointment and move on from there. Disappointments are a part of life. We cannot escape them. We must learn to deal with them or succumb to depression or worse. I have my days here and there, but mostly I just keep trudging on.

"All that glitters is not gold." Again, yes that is true. We rush after the glitter and think that it will make our lives better. It is a temporary fix. Gold in itself is soft and weak. You need to mix harder, uglier metals with it to give it strength. That is where the troubles of life come it. They are the ugly that makes the pretty possible.

"You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink." True, but who wants to drink after a horse anyway? Maybe where you have lead someone is not where they are supposed to be. Maybe they need to walk a little on their own to find the right place for a drink.

"The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence." We think that other people have perfect lives. We see the greener grass but we do not see the dirty dishes, piles of laundry, or sadness that may be hiding behind that green grass. Guess that we really do need to "walk a mile in their shoes" to understand their lives. Empathy, my friend, is a gift that few people have and even fewer people want.

Last,but not least, "People who live in glass houses should not throw stones." You know, this cliche says a lot about life. We need to remember it. We need to employ it. We are all different and we should be. If we were all the same what a boring place Earth would be. Yet instead of accepting our differences and trying to understand them, we judge, ridicule, mock, and outcast those who are different from us. If you are a Christian you should remember that there was only one perfect person who walked this Earth and it was not you or me. If you are not a Christian you should remember this cliche that sums it all up, "Nobody's perfect." Make an effort to accept. I did not say agree; I said accept. Take the journey to make our world a better place. Because....

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step." You are on a great journey called life. Make the most of it.

Count Your Blessings

My life has not always been easy. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not complaining at all. However, I have had a little more than my share of bad luck. So much so that several years ago a few of my friends started calling me Job. One of them is also not the world's luckiest person and she once told me that whenever she was really down she thought about my life and it made her realize that things were not so bad. Murphy's Law  may have been written about me. I'm not sure about that but I do have my suspicions.

For example, I have lost almost everything I have owned. Not once, but three times. The first time was through a divorce which left me with my kids, my car, my clothes, and very few of my belongings. At the time everyone advised me to fight for my "stuff." My children were young and that fight hurt them. He was fighting. He was hurting them. I was being a mother. Protection of my children at all cost. Always. Besides, what I lost was material things. My blessings were my children, my sanity, and my peace of mind. I felt blessed and God told me repeatedly that these were just "things", let it go.

The second time was soon after my mother passed away from cancer. I cannot describe the grief I felt during that time. I made a lot of poor choices because my grief was so deep. Within the space of seven months I had lost an uncle, an aunt, my mother, my grandmother, my home, both of my children moved away, and I was involuntarily transferred to a job I did not like at all. My children were far away, but they were healthy and had grown into adults I was proud of. My dad was still with us and I got closer to him than I had ever been. I met a great friend at a new job and I was blessed.

I battled depression for several years, but always managed to keep my head above the water. I met someone who I thought was a perfect fit for me. Turns out he wasn't. This divorce was much easier. No fighting.No kids. But I did lose my home because it was in his name. I did lose my transportation because we shared a car. For awhile I lost my self respect because I was someone who did not believe in divorce and now I was twice divorced. But, you know what, I was blessed. Because I felt so badly I tried to do things to make myself feel better. I did. These things helped me to help a few people along the way. They also made me take stock of my life and do some re-evaluating. It is part of what set me on this journey to be healthier.That choice is a blessing in my life.

So, here is what I know:
I am blessed with two great kids who have become responsible, respectful adults.
I am blessed that they have chosen good spouses.
I am blessed with five absolutely beautiful and loving grandchildren. (I know they love mamaw!)
I am blessed to have a roof over my head. (Many people do not.)
I am blessed to have food on my table. (Many people do not.)
I am blessed to have family that loves me. (And I love them.)
In short, I am blessed and I thank God everyday for those blessings.

I can hear my mom's squeaky voice singing, "Count your blessing name them one by one. Count your blessings see what God has done. Count your blessings, name them one by one. Count your many blessings see what God has done." Thanks, Mom, for teaching me to count my blessings!

There are many reasons in life to cry. Some are happy. Some are sad. And some are directly connected to department store dressing rooms. You choose the outfit. Oh so cute. You take it to the dressing room with high hopes. And. Then. You put it on. That's when it hits. The tears and the statement, "I'm never going to eat again!" At the time you seriously mean that comment. You hate what you see and you want it gone. You beat yourself up for all the bad choices that you have made. You swear to lose 10, 20, or 100 pounds. You will live on salad and water and eat ice cubes for snacks. You will come one day and put on an outfit and it will look good on you. So with red puffy eyes you return the outfit to the "no takers" rack and leave the store. You go somberly along your way in the mall. And. Then. You pass the cinnamon roll shop, or the ice cream shop, or the fudge shop, and your brain says, "OK, kid, you can start tomorrow. Have that treat and make yourself feel better." And you do. The tears are gone for now. But you are determined that tomorrow you will succeed.

You lost a battle but later that night when you go to bed your mind spins with what you can do to lose weight. You plan a healthy breakfast and plan a packed lunch. It is going to work this time. And. Then. You wake up late. No time for breakfast. Oh, well, less calories. Packed lunch? Not going to happen. OK, so you will pick up a salad at lunchtime. So you head off for your day determined to succeed.  By ten o'clock you are so incredibly hungry that you have to have something. You head to a vending machine and buy a sensible pack of granola bars. Well, not totally what you wanted, but, hey, it's better than a Snickers bar. Lunchtime comes. You head out to buy that salad and along the way you smell the grilled hamburgers. Well, I could have a hamburger now and eat a salad for dinner. Yeah, that's the ticket. You pull up to order. Do you want fries with that? Well, it is cheaper with fries. I won't eat them or just eat a few. So you answer. "sure." Do you want to supersize that? Well, I am really thirsty and the big drink would great.So you answer, "yes." And. Then. You pull away from the window and reach in for a fry. And reach in for a fry. And reach in for a fry. And pretty soon, the fries are gone. So you think to yourself that the hamburger must be eaten before anyone sees you with a large drink and a sandwich because they will know you ate a large fries. So, you eat the hamburger as you drive, wiping grease from the steering wheel. When you walk into work you now have only a large iced tea. So you pretend that you didn't have time for lunch. But you did. 

Later it is time to go home. When you arrive home you start dinner. You look at the salad ingredients in your fridge and it looks unappetizing. What the heck? You've blown it all day today so you fix yourself a pot of spaghetti or even order a pizza. Tomorrow you will do better. But you fall asleep before you had time to plan a breakfast or pack a lunch. And. Then. Tomorrow comes. And. Then. You fail again. After so many fails, you quit trying until the next time you try on clothes and cry in the dressing room. Then you start this whole vicious cycle over again. 

Somewhere, sometime this cycle has to stop. It can stop with death or it can stop with a little planning and preparation. Make yourself a priority in your life. (Truthfully, I have always had difficulty with that.) Start with what you can do. Watch one less t.v. program and pack lunch for a week. Get up 15 minutes earlier and eat a good, healthy breakfast. Invest in containers to prepackage your meals. Count what you eat. Journaling is not a job it is as opportunity to know what you have done right (repeat it) and what you have done wrong (stop it). Make yourself a priority. You are not selfish, you are important. Your health directly affects the people that you love. Show them you care enough to want to be around to see their future. You may always cry in the dressing room because body image is difficult to change, but that is better than having others cry at your funeral. You may never be a fashion model, but you can be a model for a good healthy lifestyle. Go. Do it!

Jumbo the Elephant is a Fox

As a child I was overweight. I grew very fast and reached my full height by the age of twelve. Everyday of my life during the school year I was teased and sometimes ridiculed. I had very good friends in elementary school. They did not tease me because we were friends. However, kids on the bus, kids who were not my friends, and several boys teased me relentlessly. I never told my parents. Never. I used to feel so inadequate that I didn't want my parents to know. They were so good and gave us so much from the heart that I felt that they deserved a perfect daughter. I made up for my weight by working hard, studying, and getting good grades. Many times I cried at night because I knew what awaited me the next day. Yet, I loved school, loved my friends, and loved every teacher I ever had in elementary school. I loved school. I learned to hate my body.

As the summer began between my last year of elementary school and my first year of junior high, I asked my mom for a hula hoop. They were very popular then and I wanted to learn how to hula hoop. That summer I hula hooped for hours at a time. I lost all my baby fat and blossomed into a young lady. A young lady who still hated her body and all the imperfections that were glaringly obvious. When I returned to school my friends were stunned. (I lived in the country and did not see my friends over the summer.) But the remarks from the kids who had tormented me made me feel uncomfortable. One boy who had never called me by name, but always referred to me as "Jumbo" was very impressed. I still remember his comment to me that first day of school, "I can't call you Jumbo anymore. You are a fox." And then he asked if I wanted to "go together." (It was the early 70s after all.) I told him no. I was still extremely uncomfortable in my own skin.

I obsessed over my weight. As an older teen I rarely ate. My grandma was there in the mornings and she made me eat. But she would fix me one poached egg, one piece of dry toast, and a cup of tea with saccarine (again, the 70s), But I never ate lunch and because of band practice and various clubs, could get out of the house without mom knowing I hadn't eaten dinner. I existed on that small breakfast and a spoonful of peanut butter. Weekends were different and I ate more then. But still I felt fat. I was not as good as my thin friends. They were prettier, looked better in their clothes, and they were more confident. I hated my body. I still hate my body.

So now here I am. I understand that I will probably never accept my body. However, I must accept that I am a good person. I may not look good in designer clothes, but my heart is in the right place. My attitude is adjusting. I am worth the effort to get healthier and thinner. I am worth it. I am worth it. I am worth it. If I say it often enough, maybe at some point I will believe it.

CEO

Today I read an article about why the CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch chooses not to market sizes XL and XXL. According to him it is because he only wants "cool" people to be seen in their clothing. It is for the "cool" kids in school. He says that there are always several groups of kids in school and his clothing is for the popular, "cool", thin kids. Have you seen the ads? Half-dressed couples in suggestive poses. Why bother with clothes at all? He also stated that they only hire "cool", thin, attractive people to work in their stores. Well, Mr. CEO, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I'd also like to ask why the over use of the word "cool." Could it possibly be that you, Mr. CEO, were not one of the "cool" kids in school? Does being thin automatically make you beautiful? No! No  more that being "fluffy" makes you ugly.

As I read this I wanted to be outraged! I wanted to write a scathing letter to this obviously shallow man. I wanted to, but I couldn't. All I could feel was pity. This man has no idea of beauty. He could not possibly understand love, because love is not gauged by beauty. He is living his life on the surface. There is no depth to his soul.  What happens as beauty fades? Do you love your aging parents less because they are aging and it is no longer "cool" to love them? Do you love your newborn baby less because they emerge with a misshapen head from hours of labor? Do you quit loving your wife if she gets a few wrinkles or gains a few pounds after having your child? I cannot understand what is going on inside your head. Perhaps it is what is NOT going on that perplexes me.

Now I have seen many beautiful thin people in my lifetime. Some of them were my friends. But to me what made them beautiful was the beauty that came from within. Sure they wanted to look good, but they did not dismiss those who were not so beautiful or thin. I have also seen many beautiful, not so thin people in my lifetime. The people that I choose for friends are the ones who are beautiful souls. Those who care and show that they care. I have had many wonderful friends over the years and I call you all beautiful whether you are short, tall, thin, fluffy, pretty, or plain. To me you are beautiful. You have allowed me to cry on your shoulder and you have cried on mine. You have lent me money when I was broke. You have watched my kids, brought food over to my house when my mother died, went to bat for me, and been there for me when I needed you. So, to all my BEAUTIFUL friends, THANK YOU! I don't care if you can shop for clothes in Abercrombie and Fitch or not. Heck, shop at Goodwill for all I care. You are more to me that clothes! You are substance and soul. And that, Mr. CEO, will elude you forever. I am sorry for you. I can only hope that someday you will be as rich as I am.

My Why

Today I spent two hours rocking my youngest grandson. The plan had been to rock and sing him to sleep, then put him down and finish my housekeeping chores. That plan never materialized. As I sat rocking him I could not stop looking at him and remembering rocking and holding my own babies. I held my kids a lot and my grandkids as often as they would sit still for me. They grow up way too fast. They are "my why" for wanting to get healthy. I hope to be around another 20, 30, 40 or more years to see these five beautiful children grow to adulthood. They are my life, me breath, my babies.

#1 Luke. My first grandchild. He is my never stopping, always on the go, play until you drop kid. I worried about him being in school, but he has had the best first grade teacher. She understands his needs and knows how to get his best. My kind of teacher! Luke is sometimes my challenge, but I love him dearly. He never misses an opportunity to hop on my lap, give me a hug, say "I love you, Mamaw," then go off on another ball of energy adventure.

#2 Alex. My son's oldest boy is my little gentleman. He is so much like his daddy as a little boy that I want to take him home with me and relive my youth. He loves soccer and plays with passion. (Unlike his dad who watched the birds and picked flowers while the ball went rolling by.)  Alex is caring, kind, protective, and ornery. He has dubbed me, "Mamaw Cake" because I always bake him something. He loves cake, especially ones that he helps me bake.

#3 Isabella. My only granddaughter and the princess of our family. Isabella is a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty who is as clumsy as her mamaw. She wears her heart on her sleeve, again like her mamaw. She loves her dogs, her dolls, and her tea set. She cannot wait to be 8 years old so that mamaw will buy her an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas. Isabella is a lot like me and will always be my princess. She plans to marry James from Big Time Rush when she grows up, but first she has to go to Kindergarten.

#4 Jonny. Jonathan Patrick. I love that name and I love that boy! He is called Jonny in honor of my dad, John. Jonny is my buddy. He likes my sense of humor and loves to play tickle monster. He know what he wants and is vocal about getting it. He keeps my son and daughter-in-law on their toes. He loves his big brother, who he calls "Ga-ga". (We don't know why.) He is fun-loving and adventurous. Give Jonny a ball of any kind and he will play the sport.

#5 Gabriel. My baby. I have spent the most "baby-years"  time with Gabriel. He is sweet, loving, and smart. He loves his binkie and his blankie. He talks a lot and has never met a stranger. One of his favorite things is to sit with his binkie and his blankie on mamaw's lap while she rocks him to sleep. In truth, that is one of mamaw's favorite things, too.

 They are growing so fast. I know they must, but I love them at this age where "Ho Ho Clause" is real, hugs and kisses are free and abundant, and mamaw is a cool person with cakes, stories, and songs. Yet I know they must grow up. I want to be a part of those growing years. I want to hold their babies and remember all of this again. Pretty good incentive to get healthy, wouldn't you say?

Martha Sue

I tried to write this installment yesterday, but found that I could not. It was in my mind. The words swirled around all day. The problem wasn't the words, it was trying to write through the tears. Martha Sue. My mom. Yesterday, April 29, 2013 was the 9th anniversary of her passing on into her journey in heaven. She died at home surrounded by her family. My dad was holding one of her hands, my sister was holding the other, and I was rubbing her feet. She struggled to breath and then she let out a loud whooshing sound and there was no more. I have never felt such anguish in my entire life. My mommy was gone. My mommy who loved me unconditionally my whole life. My mommy.

Martha Sue was a powerful women. She was not big, she was just average. Average height, average weight, brown hair, brown eyes, and the most powerful prayer warrior I have ever known. She believed in the power of prayer. She prayed about everything. Sometimes I would see her sitting in her chair with her hands on her forehead and her eyes closed. Most people would think that she was napping. But I knew that she way praying. She believed in all that God could do. She also believed that you should do all that you were capable of doing. No excuses!

As kids we would often complain as kids do, "I can't." Mom's reply? "Can't died in the poorhouse." We were not allowed to say "can't". We had to try. No excuses. But that made me want to succeed. I would try and try and try until I got it right. Whatever it was. Mom expected it. I wanted to give mom what she wanted. I wanted to please her.

As an adult I became a teacher. Mom instilled a love of learning in me at a very young age. She told me once that I could say all of my A,B,Cs when I was 18 months old. You could see the pride in her eyes. I pictured my mom as a young mother, sitting with me in her lap, and singing the ABC Song until I could sing it, too. She was insistent that homework be done as soon as we were home from school. No playing until homework was finished. She would explain it then go about fixing dinner while we worked at the kitchen table. When we were done she would check it. Anything that was incorrect she would mark with a very light checkmark. We had to try again. If we still missed, she would teach us what to do. We always had perfect homework.

My mom loved to sing but she was a terrible singer. We teased her about it all the time. She knew that she was not a good singer, but it didn't stop her. She especially loved to sing hymns and praise music at church. After she passed away I always pictured her singing in the choir in heaven.That would make her happy. Praise God that my mom was a Christian and that I will be able to see her again someday. I love my mom. She was my best friend, my mentor, my ally. My mom, Martha Sue.

Thongs, Boy Shorts, and Granny Panties

Life comes in stages. We know this. We accept this. Yet we long for things that are just beyond our grasp. This is often called human nature, but I feel that it is more "woman nature". As little girls we are bombarded by images that we strive to attain. For most of us that image is always out of our reach. We are told by society that we are to be tall, thin, and usually with long, flowing (blonde) hair. We should not have stretch marks or skin tags. Our breasts should always be perky and our legs should always be shaved. (One advantage to being single and always wearing jeans is that you never have to shave your legs. No one sees them.) Men do not live by these rules. If they don't shave they are "ruggedly handsome." Weight? Look how many tv shows feature chunky men with stunningly beautiful, thin wives. This is never portrayed the other way around. Still here we are, decades after the Woman's Liberation Movement, trying to reach these unattainable goals. In my mind women live through three distinct stages in life. I like to think of these stages as The Thong Stage, The Boy Shorts Stage, and The Granny Pantie Stage. 

During The Thong Stage we are young and firm. We wear thongs and bikini underwear and criticize our bodies for what we see. "My butt is too big. My hips are too wide. My chest is too small." We wear bikinis on the beach, then wrap our arms around our waists because we are worried about the crinkle in our stomachs when we sit. We may play and have fun, but we secretly worry over not being picture perfect. We fail to realize that our image of perfection comes from unattainable ideals of above average height, underweight, airbrushed models who are heavily made up and posed for perfection. We are young and we are insecure.

As we grow up we progress to The Boy Shorts Stage. In this stage we are fighting the fight to stay young. We may not feel comfortable in thongs and bikinis anymore but we will not wear "old lady" underwear yet. We choose boy shorts. They provide us comfort but yet are still a little sexy. We fight to keep our husbands interested in us when they are barraged with images of Victoria's Secret models. We hold together families and hold down jobs. We rush and we work and we try to keep it all together. We still do not like our bodies, but we have learned to live with the imperfections. Those of us who haven't mastered that skill have plastic surgery and botox injections. We are adults and we are insecure but resigned to that insecurity.

Then one day it hits us! The what-in-the-heck-am-I-trying-to-please-everybody-else realization. This is The Granny Pantie Stage. We are growing wiser. We are aging like fine wines. We are ready. Ready to embrace the "I want" time of our lives and if that time of our life includes big, white, cotton granny panties, then so be it! If you don't like it, don't look at my underwear! We are still insecure, but we cover up those insecurities by being outspoken. If no one has listened to us for 50 plus years, we have earned the right to say what we choose and wear big, white, cotton, granny panties. 

So today I am hear to say, "I'm fluffy and I know it. I'm trying to get healthy. I'm going to get fit. And, by golly, I choose to wear granny panties." Figuratively or literally, put on your big girl panties (whatever type they are) and realize that your beauty is more than the skin you are in and the panties you wear, it is the soul that sparkles in your eyes and the bubbles that flow from your laughter. Embrace your beauty. (And wear whatever type panties YOU choose.) 

Stop Signs

During my high school years I took Driver's Ed. Back then it was a course that most of us took for free in order to get our driver's license. Now kids, or should I say parents, have to pay for this privilege. One day I was cruising down the street when the driver's ed car stopped. I looked questioningly at my instructor. He pointed out the window and said, "Stop sign." Then we spent the next several minutes of our drive discussing problems with running a stop sign: wrecks, tickets, etc. I became highly aware of stop signs after that. To this day I come to a full stop and look when I am at a stop sign. (Yellow lights, however, are a challenge. Can I make it through? vroom.....)

Anyway, being fluffy has made me put stop signs in my life. Hmmm, do I want to wear a bathing suit on the beach? Stop sign. Will I order a dessert? Stop sign. Will I take my grandkids to an amusement park? Stop sign. Will I wear shorts because it is 98 degrees outside? Stop sign. Will I talk to the guy standing next to me in the grocery line? Stop sign. Can I get on an airplane to go visit my son? Stop sign. I need a picture of myself for my business. Stop sign. Can I sit on that lawn chair? Stop sign. And the list goes on and on and on and on. I have placed stop signs in so many areas of my life that I rarely leave the house and I never do anything fun. I want to join a group to make friends in my new town. Stop sign. 

The problem with stop signs is not the stopping. The stopping is absolutely necessary in order to stay safe. The problem lies in the fear to go on. If we stop at the stop sign but do not go through it, we will never reach our destination. I have a destination in mind. My destination is to be healthy and as happy as I possibly can. In order to reach that destination, I have to swallow my fear, say a prayer, and pull out into the intersection of life by doing things that have stopped me before. Now my foot is going to go gently on the gas pedal. I will start with the small things and move on up from there. I didn't drive the freeway my first time out. So, how about a new outfit? I'm thinking shorts and a cute top. vroommm, vroommmm! Look out, world, here I come.

The Invisible Woman

A few years ago when my children were young our washing machine broke. This was an unfortunate event because it sent me to the laundromat with a week's worth of clothing for a family of four. When I arrived at the laundromat there were two men sitting at a table talking and waiting on their laundry to finish. The table was by the big, plate glass window that housed the door to the laundromat. I lugged my giant baskets of laundry inside, trying to open and hold the door as I entered. I did this four times. I also lugged in a big bag with detergent, fabric softener, quarters, and basic laundry necessities. Each time I struggled with the door, it occurred to me that it would be very nice if one of those men would help with the door. I would have gone to help someone, man or woman. Well, maybe it was just expecting too much.

Laundry in. Standing by my washers I had a full view of the door and the outside parking lot. What do I see?   A car pulls up, a thin woman with tight clothes and big (ummm) hair gets out. She has one itty-bitty (seriously, it looked like toy) laundry basket. BOTH men jumped up, rushed to the door, one held it open and one took her basket and carried it to a washer. And it was then that I knew: fat people are invisible.

Ironic isn't it. The bigger you are, the less people pay attention to you. Well that is until you are doing something that they want to make fun of you for doing. Or of course wearing a tube top and spandex pants in Wal-Mart on a Saturday night to rent movies from the Red Box. Then you end up on countless emails and Facebook statuses. Just to clarify, I've never been in one of those emails. I dress appropriately for Wal-Mart: no makeup, my jeans with the hole in the butt, my looonnngggg black tunic (it covers the hole) and of course, Birkenstocks. They are after all one of my life's necessities!

I do not begrudge any thin person their rights. I just want everyone to know that fluffy people have rights, too. We can be tall or short, smart or not so smart, quick-witted or ditzy, nice or bullies, good cooks or microwave royalty, jolly or somber and the list goes on. We are the same as anyone else, there is just more of us. I love the video of Britain's Got Talent where Susan Boyle comes out on stage. Everyone sees the fluffy, not so attractive woman standing there with the audacity to think she could perform. Everyone is rolling their eyes and making fun of her.(Had she been in the laundromat, she would have been invisible.) But there she stood. And then, she sang. One of the most beautiful voices of our time came from that frumpy, fluffy woman and those who were dismissing her as useless, were amazed. Give fluffy a chance. Don't prejudge. The most beautiful soul may inside that fluffy body and you could miss your chance to know them.

(If you need a little inspiration, go to youtube.com and search Susan Boyle Britain's Got Talent. Prepare to be amazed.)

We'll Take a Table

Welcome to my very first blog. Ever. I am writing this blog as a way to keep myself motivated on the long journey that I am about to begin. Starting the day after tomorrow, I will officially be a member of a weight loss group. I plan to finally try to get healthy. You see, I have five absolutely gorgeous grandchildren ranging in age from 7 to 2 and I plan to see each of them grow up and have children. So, in an effort to do this I have joined a weight loss support group and started this blog, Fluffy on the Beach. I live in southwest Florida and have never been to the beach in anything but jeans. And that, my friend, is just the beginning of the problems that we "fluffy" people face. 

Now for all of you normal sized people out there we fluffy people have a whole set of problems that never cross your mind. For instance, how much thought do you put into this question when asked by a seating hostess, "table or booth?" The word "booth" in a restaurant is a dirty word. We fluffy people cannot just go sit in a booth. We have to quickly scan the area, see if the seats are movable, how much space between the seat and table, and how many skinny people are sitting around to laugh at us as we squeeeezzzzeee into the booth. So after all of this thought in one millisecond, we politely answer, "table." 

Shoes that tie. Oh.....merciful......heavens! First of all, I cannot breath while I am bent over tying, so I pray that I do not pass out from loss of oxygen. I mean when someone calls the paramedics and you have to explain that the accident occurred because you were tying your shoes. Shoot me now. But if I do manage to stay conscience, there is always the fact that fluffy people tie there shoes to the inside of their foot instead of on top. So you make every concerted effort to get that knot and bow on the top of your foot. Nobody notices but you. And skinny people never think about any of this. They tie their shoes and go about their day. I hate them. Not really. However, I have to interject here one of my favorite words, Birkenstocks.

Turnstiles. Kill me now. What if I don't fit? What if I get stuck? How many people are looking? Can I go sideways? Will it help if I hold my breath? Am I going to have to embarrass myself and look for a wheelchair gate? What are all my skinny friends, who are going right on through, thinking right now? Well, here goes! So I just shut my eyes, hold my breath, and hope for the best. Made it through but not without the bar jamming into my butt. 

And speaking of my butt, dressing room mirrors. Need I say more? Even skinny people hate that 360 degree view, but put buttzilla in there and, well, there's not enough kleenex in the world to handle that drama.

Now don't get me wrong. I understand that no one forced me to become overweight. I did it to myself. McDonald's did not force feed  Big Macs to me. Pizza Hut did not put their number on my speed dial. Potato chips did not march from the bag into my mouth while I was sleeping. (But what a nice dream that would be). I take full responsibility. No more excuses. It's time for my journey into health. I hope that you will come along for the ride. It's always nice to have a friend.