On This Day

Every morning, as I sip my first cup of coffee, Facebook kindly reminds me what happened On This Day over the last few years.  Usually it's filled with an incredible amount of narcissistic nonsense, sarcastic statuses about my children, or bacon memes shared with me by my friends.  Much to my chagrin, I also get reminded of those days when we all posted our Facebook statuses in the third person, circa 2008. "Cassidy... is talkin' more Shick than a Bic".  Yeah.  I posted that once.  I'm past feeling embarrassed by it. (Bonus points if you know where that is from.)

A few weeks ago I was reminded On That Day that it's been about three years since I posted my very first blog.  I've been meaning to write for awhile and that definitely spiked my guilt sensors (which are acutely sensitive, by the way).  It's been about seventeen months since I have written and I wasn't even that prolific before that.  I'm not even sure anyone is still reading but, if you are, let me tell you where I've been.

I feel like I'm in some VH1 special about a B-list, Screech-like celebrity, though I'm sure I'd be more likely to end up on Dances with the Stars instead of a sex tape.  Maybe.  Who am I kidding?  I really can't dance.

(Note: I probably won't be filling this blog with funny memes and pictures as is my usual way.  There really aren't any that are even relevant and I'm still recovering from a Google search for funny Screech/Porn memes.  Word to the wise - don't.  Just don't.)

Where have I been?  Well, to sum up I'm completely cured of all body confidence and worthiness issues, I've reached my goal weight and I've had no more reason to overshare with all you people.

Or...

Life.  And I needed a break.  And vulnerability is exhausting sometimes.

My last post left me pretty spent.  Maybe not the post itself but the whole experience.  I had challenged myself to be vulnerable and open at a difficult time when I started the blog and when I had surgery. For the last three years I have, in the name of body gratitude, publicly talked about my body for an entire month on Facebook.  I overshared about my life-long feelings of shame. I was terrified when I had a boudoir photo shoot, all in an effort to see my own beauty and embrace my size.  And I was scared to death when I got on a stage to sing in order to face my body image fears that have kept me from trying new things.  Frankly, I was tired and emotionally spent from trying to double-dog-dare myself into loving me.  I needed a break.

I've known for awhile that loving yourself as you are is the key to making lasting change, should you want to do so.  But that doesn't mean it doesn't also take work.  I decided enough was enough.  Enough talk.  Enough poor-me blogs.  Enough scary to-do lists.  I needed to start walking the talk.

In the midst of work and family and all the normal life stuff I really committed to making time to care for myself again.  I started tracking my food intake again with a modest deficit.  I started working out regularly.  Between those two things I've lost about 30 pounds since last January.  But the weight loss isn't what I'm proud of (and I'm not even back to where I was when I worked at the gym).  I am proud of myself for making ME a priority again.  For practicing self-care in a way that respected my body.  It's not been easy to stay focused on that and I've battled some injuries but overall I'm doing ok.  I've made these behaviors a habit again and that makes me happy.  Even so, I've been a little off course the last six weeks or so (more on that later) and there always has to be readjustment, even with habits.  Self care is a work in progress and always will be.

Let's see.  What else have I been up to?  Well, I survived wearing a walking boot in a Minnesota winter.  I've taken more voice lessons with another instructor just for fun this time.  I've spent a lot of quality time with friends and family.  I've worked a lot of hours. These are not dramatic events but it's what I've been up to.

I also ran into my old boss / close friend from the gym last Spring.  When I finally recognized him I was about to say hi and then he gave me a look.  A look with more hatred than I've ever seen anyone give me before.  Then he turned and walked away.  This stayed with me for a few days, mostly because I don't think I can ever remember being on the receiving end of that much hatred before.  And I still don't know where it's coming from or what I did.  But I sat with it, processed it and realized it's not for me to understand.  It's not about me and I won't carry it with me anymore.  I forgive many people for the things that happened back then and I hope they can forgive me for whatever ways they feel I've wronged them.  But I've moved on.  I wish him peace. Look at me, I'm growing!

I also survived yet another reminder that family, the ones that are supposed to love you, won't always love you unconditionally.  I felt hurt and angry for a few days and then I let it go.  Their loss.

This summer I celebrated my 20th wedding anniversary by taking a trip to Mexico with my husband, sans children.  It was relaxing and romantic and everything we needed, despite trying to fight off a little cold while there.  And, to make it extra interesting, I brought only bikinis.  Me.  Bikinis.  What? At first I thought I may try to make a challenge out of it - a blog post - and then I changed my mind.  I won't post any pictures here because it wasn't about that.  I can tell you what happened, though.  Day one - I put on my bikini and walked out to the pool.  That was it.  It wasn't some bold feat of strength.  It was a non issue.  A non issue in the best way possible and exactly what I needed.  I wasn't being brave because to say that would infer that I needed to be brave in the first place to show my body.  I was just a woman in a swimsuit just like all the other women in their swimsuits.  It felt wonderful to do it for me and not some crazy notion I committed myself to publicly.  It was freeing.  I can't wait for Facebook to remind me about my trip next year On That Day.  I felt beautiful and loved and free.

I've been wearing leggings and skinny jeans lately, God damn it!  That's gotta mean something right there!

It hasn't been all sunshine and tanlines and tight pants.  There have been some rough points, too.  I don't have the body image stuff figured out all the time and it sneaks in, usually when I'm actually upset about something else.  Hating on my body is the path of least resistance when it comes to self-loathing.  It's comfortable and I'm quite good at it.  Hell, in a recent bout of pain and grief I decided to get bangs.  About 2.5 seconds later I decided that every bit of sex appeal I had was now lying in a hairy pile on the floor and I was now completely unattractive.  Clearly I don't have it all figured out. 

What I know for sure is this - I may not always love my body.  I may unfairly punish it for other feelings I'm too afraid or too weak to deal with.  But through all that I still know that it's worth all the effort.  I am worthy.  You are, too.

I met a girl in the bathroom gym years and years ago.  I had seen her come in day in and day out to work out but I had never met her.  That day in the bathroom she was crying.  She was crying over her weight and her frustration and her feelings of unworthiness.  She was overwhelmed and was thinking of giving up on trying to lose weight.  That's when I promptly stepped in, hugged her next to the sinks and said the most asshole-ish thing a person can say at the gym. "I lost XXX number of pounds.  You can, too!"  Ok, maybe not the most asshole-ish thing but if she hadn't brought up the subject I would never have been that person to approach someone bragging about weight loss.  Lucky for me she still talked to me the next time she saw me.

We were brought back together again after I became a trainer and she had a horrible experience with another trainer that left her very disenchanted.  A friend brought it to my attention and I stepped in to fix it.  What I didn't know On That Day was that she would start attending all my classes faithfully and eventually become one of my closest friends.  She was part of my inner circle and integral in my recovery from leaving my job there.  Jenn was irreplaceable.  Facebook just reminded me a few weeks ago On This Day that we had been Facebook friends for 5 years.  It feels like I've known her my whole life.

In recent months she really struggled again with her own worthiness for different reasons.  I know this because she would text those exact words to me. "I'm struggling to feel worthy."  She knew I would get it but I was at a loss on how to help her.  I don't even have my own shit together most days.  Plus stuff gets in the way like life, family, people you probably shouldn't be devoting your time to, work, etc.  I thought I had time.  I thought we both had time to work it out and have a big hug and a laugh when we realized how crazy we were.

Seven weeks ago today Jenn died unexpectedly from an undiagnosed medical condition.  The night before I was texting her.  The next morning she was gone.  She was just fucking gone.

"Oh My! I might actually make it to cycle class tonight.  Seeing you twice in one week might be too much for me to handle."  Jenn wrote this on my Facebook wall On This Day five years ago.  Thanks, Facebook, for making me cry almost daily for 7 weeks.

On This Day I miss my friend terribly.  On This Day I feel a different kind of loss than I've ever felt before - the loss of a family member of my choosing.  On This Day I am also profoundly grateful to have had a friendship that leaves me devastated in its absence.  What a blessing to care so much that a hole is left when she is gone.  Because I've had plenty of relationships that were less than and I spent far too much time and energy trying to keep them and make them care for me, sometimes at the expense of the ones that really mattered.  I have learned such a profound lesson in this pain that she has taught me.

I may not have spent the last seventeen months mastering all of this body confidence stuff but I have spent the last seven weeks thinking about what matters.  What matters to me is that I live a life that leaves others devastated when I leave this Earth.  And I hope that I can leave this Earth knowing my own worth.  I'm heartbroken at the prospect that Jenn may not have fully understood her own worth or what she meant to people.  Those that she left behind know.  We know.

A week before Jenn passed away she emailed me a song that she thought could help another friend of mine.  I actually didn't get around to listening to it until the day we lost her.  She gave me exactly what I needed to hear that day.

 She was right.  I can handle this pain for awhile.  But I will miss her forever.


I'm not sure what will become of this blog.  I have no idea how much I'll still write.  I'm not feeling the need to be brave in order to earn my own self love.  I'm just trying to live and make the most of the time I have because it all seems so finite now.  I guess I'll just write when I feel something and when I have time.  If you are still here with me I thank you.  Deeply.

Asshattery and the Anti-Anti-fragile

Dear Asshat at the Gym,

You don't know me. You don't know I once lost 130 lbs. You don't know I was a trainer, spin instructor and kickboxing instructor. You don't know I just came off a couple of weeks of major self-loathing and I'm fighting to stay above water. You don't know that this is a lifelong battle of mine. You also didn't know I was feeling pretty damn good yesterday. I took a pic of myself in only one shot and I didn't hate it. I had a singing lesson that made me not quite as certain I'll be making a fool of myself in 11 days time. I had some wonderful compliments from friends - one in particular who said she still saw my strength. I got my workout in and felt strong and saw that I still had muscle definition in places, though more hidden than before.

You didn't know any of this. You could have paid attention to my form and knowledge and seen that I was not a newbie. You could have also seen I had my headphones in which is the tell-tale sign of "Don't even think about talking to me". But you didn't. Instead you walked up to a "fat girl" at the end of one of her sets and said, "Hey, would you like some inspiration? 6 months ago I weighed 267 lbs. Look at me now. I know you can do this. Keep going."

I let you have your moment. I let you have it because I know logically it was not about me but about your excitement over your accomplishments. And I know you meant well. And that first big weight loss is a drug you want to share with everyone. So I let you have it. And I high-fived you, even.

What I won't let you have is the "good day" I had yesterday. You can't take it away by reminding me that to everyone else I probably look like a fat girl who is just starting. Yesterday was mine.

But I swear to god, you douchebag, if you ever approach me again you will receive a lecture on how you don't know where any one is at in their own fucking journey. And how if you want to say something to someone at the gym it should be, "Hey, nice set" or "You're form is great". Or, here's an idea. MIND YOU OWN GOD DAMN BUSINESS!!

Sincerely,

Cassidy
(The girl who will roundhouse a mother fucker the next time he interrupts her workout.)



I wrote this out to vent.  Actually the first draft had many more expletives than even I am comfortable with posting here, but the intent is the same.  Because this really hurt.  More than it should have.  And I realized it was my pride that was hurt.  And it was shame that I felt in his "inspiration".

Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever approached anyone like this at the height of my weight loss. Did I share it with people if it came up in conversation?  Yes.  Did I tell clients who were struggling and feeling like it could never be done? Yes.  But only after it was already a point of conversation.

The fact is I probably do look like someone who just recently started going to the gym.  And, while I can spot someone who really knows how to lift a mile away, not every one can.  So he didn't know who he was talking to and I can't blame him for that.  Though I may still blame him for his passive-aggressive compliment fishing.  That's my right.

I'm a big proponent of the "Mind Your Own Fucking Business" protocol.  I'm pretty sure that if more people would adhere to this it would solve all the major problems in the word - Politics, Religion, Human Rights.  Just Mind Your Own Business.  Please.

But when it comes to our bodies and what we do with them, I guess that's still everyone's business.   We're all sitting ducks for someone else to tell us how we should move, what we should eat or how we should be forcibly inspired.

No thank you.  Just no.  I get to decide how I'm inspired.  No one else.  That is also my right.  You know what inspires me?  People who stand up for what they believe in.  People who take risks in the name of personal growth even though they are scared shitless to do so.  People who know what their passion is and do what they can to chase it.  People who make a difference to someone else.

I don't give a shit what you've done for your body in the name of weight loss alone.  I never have - not even as a trainer.  What I hoped to give to clients then was a sense of control, of strength and empowerment.  I couldn't change their bodies in just one or two sessions a week.  That's impossible - a good trainer knows the real work takes places outside of those sessions. What I hoped to do was help to change what they believed about themselves in that time.  To show them they could do anything because they were already strong enough. I don't know if I ever accomplished that goal but it was what I set out to do.

Another friend mentioned that maybe this experience was my chance to work on being anti-fragile.  I know this is a popular phrase right now but it's not one that I really embrace.  I guess it really depends on what your definition of being fragile is.  Fragility that allows you to be broken and defeated? I don't want any part of that.

There is a huge part of me that is still fragile.  Fragile enough that some unknowingly insensitive jerk could hurt me at the gym yesterday.  But that fragility inside me is the place where I learn the most about myself.  It's where I feel and think it out.  It's where I continue to develop compassion and strive to never make another person ever feel that way because of my actions or words.  And when I am hurt that little bit of fragility eventually heals over to create a new strength I didn't know I had.

Thank you, Mr. Asshat at the Gym.  Today I am stronger.

Miss Understood

Yesterday I had a conversation with someone who referenced my comments on Facebook regarding an article I shared.  She said it was no wonder I was having trouble with a former colleague.  I was telling everyone to get larger while he wanted everyone to come in to the gym to get smaller.

Wait - what?  I don't recall saying that.  I do recall saying I would never again apologize for the space I take up and if you didn't like it you could move your ass over.  But telling everyone to get larger?  What?

In her defense I know she was just kidding around.  But it got me wondering if perhaps I'm coming off the wrong way.  When I say that I'm not going to make myself "small" anymore do people think I'm talking about my size?  Because I'm not.

I don't give exercise advice here because it's no longer my job to do so and you can find just about anything you want to know on the internet already written by smarter people than me (and some not so smart).  In addition, what's right for me is not necessarily right for you.  Same with nutrition.  I'm not going to tell you what to eat.  I'm not going to write a specific diet out for you.  Because, frankly, I don't believe in that.  I once had a trainer try to give me a diet to follow that seriously listed items such as: 4 raw green beans, 7-9 almonds, 6 pieces raw broccoli, protein shake.  Are you fucking kidding me?  What I eat may not be what you want to eat and I'm not about to tell you to eat something you don't like.  Seriously - have you met me?  I firmly believe food should be pleasurable.  I do have some pretty definite feelings on both issues and if you ever wanted to really talk about it I would be happy to give my opinion but that's not what this blog is about.

From the beginning of this blog I have been about one thing - making peace with my own body.  Whether that leads me to wearing a smaller size someday or not, that is my goal.  It was my entire bucket list in my last blog.  But maybe people aren't smelling what I'm cooking here.  Maybe I'm not making any sense. Maybe I've become a misheard lyric.

Oh my God.  I'm Tony Danza.

Body Acceptance.  That's what I'm talking about.  But I'm starting to wonder if people think I'm talking about Fat Acceptance instead.  There is a movement online that's gaining momentum for Fat Acceptance and I think it's a fabulous thing.  I think the pain, harassment and prejudice that people of any size larger than average endure is unacceptable.  I think people should not be ashamed of their weight and deserve to love their bodies. But I'm not actually talking about Fat Acceptance because my feelings go so much further than that.  I don't care if you are overweight or underweight.  I know for a damn fact that you have battled body shame at one point or another in your life, regardless of weight, and every single one of us can benefit from Body Acceptance.  Every single one of us.

But what does Body Acceptance mean?  I think for many there is a belief that if you accept your body as it is right now that you are admitting defeat.  You are giving up.  You are lazy.  You are unmotivated.  You are making excuses.  But I'm about to lay down some truth on you and tell you why they're wrong.

Before I do that, you should know that I struggle sometimes with really slowing down and meditating on things.  I think it's because I get way too emotional.  I like to lift heavy stuff and I like to box.  I have not really connected with yoga yet and that's probably because the whole two classes and one meditation I've been to made me bawl like a baby.  Today I am going to get all Zen up in this bitch.

I've considered learning more about Buddhism many, many times.  I've been so turned off by religion from lifelong experiences that this "philosophy" really appeals to me. To lead a moral life; to be mindful and aware of thoughts and actions; to develop wisdom and understanding.  I can get on board with that without all the traditional religious dogma.  However, aside from the fact that I'd probably get kicked out of both branches of Buddhism for continually repeating this entire scene from Caddyshack by heart, I didn't get very far in much of the teachings.  It seems the first of the Five Precepts of Buddhism is to avoid killing or harming living things.  Houston, we have a problem.

Imagine my surprise while trying to do some research on Body Acceptance that one of the most fabulous things I came across was a Dharma talk by Tara Brach, author and leading western teacher of Buddhist meditation, emotional healing and spiritual awakening.  Her talk, Genuine Acceptance, is definitely worth a listen on your own but I'll share some of the information that I found most beneficial.

First, let's talk about what acceptance is.  Tara defines genuine acceptance as "recognizing the truth of this moment without resistance.  With openness."  She says acceptance is an active, engaged process - not passive.  It's not lazy or giving up. It's an intention.  "Acceptance is in this moment how you are relating to the reality that's right here."  Essentially a state of heart/mind with absolute non-resisting presence.  The opposite of acceptance is "any moment that we are trying to manipulate our experience."

Tara goes on to say that there are three major archetypal challenges to acceptance that we are programmed for.  Fight-Flight-Freeze.  When we fight acceptance we push it away, we judge or blame.  Fight is full of "shoulds".  How do I apply this to the idea of body acceptance?  We judge ourselves for our own bodies or we get mean and spiteful over other bodies. (No one does the latter better than a woman.)  We "should" ourselves into a long list of restrictions and demands to try to change it.  And we beat the tar out of ourselves, emotionally and physically, in an attempt to get smaller.  Flight, in regards to acceptance, is about ignoring, denying and tensing against it to avoid pain.  I think this is where we distract ourselves with whatever method of pain relief we have. Mine is often food.  It's where we avoid truly looking in the mirror and going out and living life.  It's where we skip big events in our lives for fear of what someone else will think of our weight gain.

Freeze is more difficult for me to put a finger on.  She says that it's a "doormat in the guise of acceptance".  It's pretending acceptance when we've really just stuffed it under.  Perhaps this is where I was when I thought I had it beat and had it all figured out.  At my lightest weight and highest muscle mass and teaching classes and training clients all week and being a "role model" and "inspiration" for obesity turned fit.  Maybe that whole time when I thought I had all my shit figured out I was really just frozen.  Must have been. "If you push it under it always comes out sideways." Indeed.

Tara says that the Buddha's inquiry when life happens or when we struggle is how to find that liberating quality of non-resistant presence so that we can respond, not react.  The basic teaching in the spiritual tradition is that "wise behavior arises out of an accepting presence".  What's the difference between responding versus reacting?  Take for instance a child who has just gotten into trouble. (Not that I would know anything about this.)  I had an opportunity just this week to sit down with my child after getting a call from the school and discuss some serious topics.  Keep in mind that I had several hours to process everything and deal with my emotions but I can tell you that responding to his issue from a place of love and acceptance - knowing that maybe what happened was just merely a result of him not having all the pieces to put together in his mind - rather than reacting from a place of anger and judgment made all the difference in the world to the results we got from him.  He understood.  He responded and he was willing to change.  Parenting for the win!

In relation to the body, can you imagine how it feels to come at yourself from a place of rejection and reacting solely to that emotion.  Of course you can.  We all do it.  Sometimes even daily.  Now imagine coming at yourself from a place of whole-hearted acceptance and then responding. Of really taking in where we are in this moment, staying with it and feeling it, without judgment and thought, until we can respond with love and inevitably heal.  Doesn't that sound like a better method?  If are willing to treat our children that way why can't we approach our own selves in that manner?

Famous psychologist, Carl Rogers, once said, "It wasn't until I accepted myself just as I was in this moment that I was free to change."  Acceptance is the precursor to true transformation - accepting ourselves in this very moment.  Resignation is quitting or giving up - feeling defeated.  Don't confuse the two when I say I am working on body acceptance.

Am I able to make this change to acceptance all at once?  Of course not.  I struggle daily.  It's an active effort to steer my thoughts and feelings in the right direction and be at peace with who I am in the present.  I resist on those days I run into someone at my new gym who knew me at my lightest and I feel like I have to explain myself.  I resist when my clothes don't fit anymore or when someone talks about a certain clothing size being their "OMG I can't go back to that" size and it's the size I'm wearing right now.  And I freeze sometimes when looking in the mirror and wonder why I let myself get to this point again. (All of these things have just happened in the last few days.) But I make the intention every single day to come at myself with love and acceptance for who I am in this very moment.  It's all I can do.  And I make a little progress each and every time.

Tara Brach says that in it's purity, genuine acceptance "is no different than love.  The space that accepts is a loving space."  She doesn't say that it's easy, however.  It's going to be difficult because we are programmed to fight, flee or freeze.  It's going to take tremendous effort to arrive in that place.  That sure doesn't sound like giving up to me, though.  Maybe my pants size is larger than it used to be and maybe I'm not working out 6-7 times a week anymore but I'm not giving up.  What I am trying to do is not pretend acceptance like I did before, only to have it wreak havoc on me again.  This time it's for real and that's why I am not preaching about how you should move or what you should eat or how to get smaller.  I believe that if you truly love yourself in the form of absolute acceptance then you will RESPOND by caring for yourself in the healthy manner in which you and your body deserve.

We are all born loving and accepting ourselves just as we are.  Life changes that in so many different ways but I have to believe it's still inside me and I can find it again.  The American spiritual teacher, Gangaji, wrote, "Opening to whatever is present can be a heartbreaking business. But let the heart break, for your breaking heart only reveals a core of love unbroken."  I'm going to find that love again.

Since beginning this blog and it's Facebook page I have repeatedly used the phrase, "Love first, change second."  If you keep up with me you'll see it again. It's still my mantra. Who knew I was so fucking Zen already?

Dorothy, you've had the power all along.

Word to Your Mother

It seems I'm destined to have all the biggest, life changing events in my life happen around a holiday.  I lost my first pregnancy on St. Patrick's Day back in 2000.  Over Christmas that same year I had my first son, Ethan.  And a year and a half later I spent Mother's Day weekend in the hospital recovering from my my youngest son's birth.  Eleven years later and I am still splitting that weekend with my son.

This week has been a bear.  I've been behind on work, getting slammed with "to-do" lists and trying to get everything done in time for Sean's birthday.  I ran errands, I bought and wrapped all the presents and I even made him a special Minecraft birthday cake that literally took me all day and then some.  Coincidentally he also picked this week to become the biggest almost-eleven year old turd you've ever seen.  I'm pretty sure I threatened to cancel his birthday at least three times.  Of course I didn't cancel it.  He's my baby and I would do anything for either of my boys (except make a Minecraft cake ever again).  But I'll be damned if I can't wait till they figure out the wisdom in behaving before an upcoming birthday.  Or Christmas.  Or Mother's Day.

Of course you know that I was an angel as a child, right?  That I was so well behaved as to never stress my mother out?  That I brought only joy and laughter and fulfillment to her life?  Yeah, not so much.  I'm assuming that what I am experiencing with my own children can only be the ultimate act of motherly revenge:  Childhood Karma.  But at least I was cute, right?  How could you not love me?

When I was a toddler I was the first to invent the "trust fall".  And by trust fall I mean falling stiff as a board on to my face every time I was told no.  Every time.  My mom would just ignore my tantrum and step right over me and go about her business.  I guess maybe she got concerned the time I finally lifted my head to look up at her and she saw blood streaming down my face from my nose.  I know I'd be concerned - blood is incredibly hard to get out of the carpet!

As I got a little older she developed to new tactic every time I got angry with her or didn't get my way.  She'd calmly look at me and begin to sing with her sweet, soothing voice.  It's a song that, as an adult, I logically realize is one of Joe Cocker's best songs displaying such beautiful intimacy.  But still to this day every time I hear You Are So Beautiful I have an immediate visceral and negative reaction akin to shock therapy.  I can't listen to it.  I just can't.

If you recall from a previous post about my childhood vulnerabilities my mother is quite young.  She still jokes that she and I will eventually be the same age.  It won't really matter when I'm 75 and she's 91 as long as we have someone to wipe our asses, right?  Since she was so young and I was born before the age of "political correctness" she maybe hasn't always said the most motherly things.  I still laugh every time I think of her trying to correct my speech impediment, though.  She swears that it never happened but I'm quite certain my five year old self did NOT make this up.  It was the Summer before I was to start kindergarten and I couldn't say my R's.  She tried to help me.  "Say rrrrrrrrabbit."  "rrrrrrrrrrrrrrWabbit."  "Say Rrrrrrrrrrrobert." "RrrrrrrrrrWobert."  This went on and on till one day, as I stood next to her in the laundry room watching her pull clothes out of the dryer and I tried to say my R's she told me if I didn't figure out how to say them correctly before kindergarten started I would have to ride the short bus to school.  I had it figured out in a week.

Since she was so young we were often more like friends than mother/daughter.  At least in my eyes. Until I hit my teenage years of course.  She was trying to lay down the law with me one day and I wasn't having any of it.  I was a pretty good kid that got my way most of the time because I didn't cause any trouble (other than with my mouth) but I must have done something to trigger her parental side that day.  When she was done talking I held up my chin, looked her straight in the eye and said, "Why are you trying to be a mom now after all these years?"  Honestly, I knew the second those words left my mouth that I wanted them back.  If only I could grab them and shove them back in.  The look on her face confirmed this, of course, but I kept my pride, tossed my hair and turned to walk away from her.  That was my mistake.  If ever you should think of saying something like that to your mother don't turn your back, whatever you do.  Back away slowly and calmly, never forgetting your mother's ninja moves.  She hauled up her foot and kicked me right in the ass, Chuck Norris style, as I walked away.  God, I deserved it.

I tried unsuccessfully for years to get her to pay me for good grades. "Why should I pay you for something you care more about than me?"   When I wanted to get my ears double pierced she said, "Absolutely not!" (And then she went and got a tattoo years and years later.)  As a single mom she worked hard all day just to come home to me where I would inevitably tell her how bored I was and that she should take me somewhere.  I got this: "I'm not your cruise director."  I'm still a little upset that I'm unable to use this one on my own Love Boat-deprived children.  I can, however, use this oldie but goody as much as I like for my own amusement.

I have forgiven her for the first mullet I ever got.  And for making me do my impersonations of Miss Piggy's karate chop or Clyde, the orangutan from Every Which Way But Loose, for her friends.  And for those vacation pictures taken of me in said mullet, a striped tube top and white culottes.

My mother is one of the smartest, funniest women I know.  She's rarely, if ever, wrong. She's my hero for raising me on her own and with her sanity mostly intact, even.  She's also one of my best friends.  I still do everything she tells me to, whether it's a career choice or a book club selection.  If she told me to do it must be right.

As I think about my own children on this Mother's Day weekend I realize they aren't perfect.  But they are mine and they are beautiful.  They are smart and strong, full of humor and sass and energy.  I would do anything for them in the world, including give my own life, because they are worthy of being here just as they are.  I love them with my whole entire being, even on those days that I struggle with liking them a whole lot.  And knowing how I feel about them gives me a glimpse of how I'm sure my mother feels about me.  Of how all mothers feel about their children.

So on this Mother's Day, as you think about how much your mother and your children are worthy of your love, perhaps realize that you need that same amount of love from yourself.  Remember how worthy YOU are, despite whatever imperfections you may have. After all, your mother is never wrong.

 I love you, mom.

New Year's Evolution

Happy New Year!  Today is the first day of a brand new year where people feel the powerful lightness of new beginnings and clean slates.  Fresh commitments to be a better person, parent, spouse, employee.  To be organized and punctual and vice-free.  And, most commonly, thinner.

I hate New Year's Resolutions primarily because they don't last.  They have very little staying power.  Any decision made while suffering from a hangover and after being tagged in far too many NYE party photos making your duck lip face shouldn't be taken too seriously.  And very often it's not.  I've seen it time and time again in the gym - the place is packed the first few weeks in January.  You can't get a machine to save your life.  By early February there is a little more room in those classes you wanted to attend.  By the end of February you have the run of the place again.  And as quickly as that the Resolutioners disappear.

This is why I wanted to try my Body Gratitude experiment.  What would happen if I entered the New Year having already practiced for a month what I'm convinced is the secret to all successes?  What if I had already laid the ground work for a brand new tone for my life?  Would I feel differently at the end of 2013 than I felt about 2012?

2012 was personally one of the hardest years I've had in awhile.  Not the hardest, mind you.  I've been through much worse.  But this one really got to me.  By mid-year I was beat down physically, emotionally and spiritually and it took the rest of the year to try and climb back out of that hole.  The worst of it all was not what people did or said to me.  It's what I did and said to myself.  I was a horrible friend to myself.  And like a lot of women I let all that self-hatred manifest itself in hatred for my body.

So, enter 30 Days of Body Gratitude.  Today is day 30. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.  I was able to come up with 29 separate entries for physical attributes I loved, liked or was ok with.  Contrary to what many thought it wasn't about complimenting or bragging about myself.  It was about making a conscious effort to say nice things to myself and change that internal dialogue.

And you know what?  It kind of worked.  I spent a lot of time each day thinking about what I wanted to post about or how I could spin something that normally was a negative thing for me and change it to a positive one.  I felt responsibility in living up to what I was preaching about so any time I felt those "ugly" thoughts or "fat" thoughts coming on I quickly changed those words in my head or, more importantly, thought about what emotion I was feeling that made me want to say those things and I tried to deal with the real issue.

The best part of all of this wasn't what I said to myself each day.  It was the feedback I got from others and the gratitude posts from them.  There weren't a lot of people that went the distance with me.  I had quite a few that started strong and didn't make it.  I had a few that just popped in once in awhile to contribute on days when they were probably feeling pretty decent about themselves.  I had a few surprises from people who never posted but at the end said they were sad to see it go as it made a difference in how they looked at their own bodies each day.  How amazing is that?  That made it totally worth it to feel so vulnerable and exposed most days when I posted, wondering when someone was going to call bullshit on me.  And one gorgeous friend has decided to put her scale away for a year because of this project.  Fantastic!  I am truly inspired by all that came out to play with me.

Sadly, I had some friends who gave up quickly or couldn't contribute at all, saying that there was nothing they were grateful for on their own body.  That kind of self-loathing for their own bodies speaks to a much, much greater problem which was the real root of what I was trying to accomplish for myself.  It's what I believe is the secret to all successes or goals.  It's love for yourself.

So many think they will love themselves when they get to their goal weight.  Or when they find the right person to spend their lives with.  Or perhaps when they find that perfect job that will finally make them feel like a success in their professional lives.  But what if they have it all backwards?  What if the only way to get to those points is to love yourself first, thereby inviting all those things into your life because you are DESERVING and WORTHY of all good things.  What if the key to your resolution of being a better person, parent, spouse, employee is all about knowing, first and foremost, that you "are worthy because you were born"?

I'm still going to struggle with worthiness on a daily basis.  Even through all this gratitude I've been practicing I have still been battling with that which should be my birthright.  It doesn't help that I'm still hurting from losing friendships that I thought I'd have forever just because I made a career choice that was better for me and my family.  And just a couple of weeks ago I was reminded, yet again, that I was "a stupid mistake" (not my words).  It all takes it's toll.  But I didn't manifest those feelings into calling myself ugly or disgusting these past 30 days.  And that's worth it because those were my weapons of choice.  Instead I dealt with the real issues and feelings and felt what I had to feel instead of beating up on my body just to take it out on someone.  It was painful but I did it.

So what is my plan for the New Year?  I'm going to keep practicing loving myself and I'm going to find a way to focus on worthiness.  And I will not let a number on the scale dictate my worth any longer.  I know the issues are bigger than that and I will not shrink away from them and hide under a bathroom appliance.  This doesn't mean I won't try to be healthy.  I will still try to eat better and exercise smarter and feel stronger and leaner because I like feeling that way and I like being able to participate in activities that require me to take care of my body.  And there are still things that I would change about my body. But I will do my best to try to approach my body with the intention of love and gratitude for what it can do for me rather than trying to fit it in to some mold before I can love it.  Love first, change second. And I'm not calling this a resolution because those come every year.  I'm hoping to evolve to a point where I never again have to start over on this project.

I no longer have a goal weight or a goal size.  I really don't.  I do have a couple of other goals, though.  First, I'm going to try my hardest to never say anything to myself that I wouldn't say to one of my best friends.  Next, I will no longer wait for the perfect weight or size before I try new things or new activities. It's time to start living and achieving all the things I want for myself. And finally, my last goal is a line from one of my favorite Brandi Carlile songs - "Do I make myself a blessing to everyone I meet?".  This includes being a blessing to myself.  And unless there is some new way to measure blessings I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with a god damned scale. 

May your 2013 and forever after be filled with all the blessings and worth that you are entitled to just because you were born.