Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
Sunday, July 5, 2009
IMG00033.jpg
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
Testin
1234 tell me that you love me more
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sweaty Betty
Hey! Guess what! I put a teensy, tinsy bit of effort in today and went for a 30 minute walk.
I jammed to Daft Punk, PJ Harvey, and Gene Loves Jezebel on my ipod.
The dog was a shithead.
The end.
I jammed to Daft Punk, PJ Harvey, and Gene Loves Jezebel on my ipod.
The dog was a shithead.
The end.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Worth
I was labelled 'The Chubby Kid' as far back as I can remember. When I look back at pictures of myself as a small kid, I really wasn't fat at all. I wasn't the skinniest kid in the world, but I could have had a good running at the clumsiest.
I did start maturing at a really young age. I was curvy at 9. I had breasts. I had hair in places hair should not grow when you're that young. I was a child in a woman's body. Of course this is the mid 80's and everyone has to comment on it. Nowadays, knowing what we know about how kids internalize comments, hopefully folks wouldn't be so brazen. I always heard how 'big' I was getting. Of course people could have meant height wise, that's not how I heard it, though. When you're 9 and your family and family friends are already telling you how easy childbirth will be for you, you can get a little self conscious about the size of your hips. I wore a womens size 8 (let me specify...an 80's size 8, not a 2009 size 8) when I was 9 years old. That was the only way they would fit me in the hips. I was too curvy for my own damn good.
On my 13th birthday I was 5'2" tall and 120 pounds. I remember this so specificially because after this year, I have never seen this number on the scale since. Aaaahhh, the good old days.
But, back then, I thought I was so fat. A cow. Who would want to look at me? Be my friend? Be my boyfriend? Well...there was one boy, which lead me to this whole thought process between the time my alarm went off and I stepped into the cold morning.
If I made a list when I was 13 years old of what I wanted out of my life, it would look something like this:
1. Marry the-boy-from-the-lake (check)
2. Have two great kids, one boy, one girl (check)
3. Have one dog, one cat (check)
4. Own a cute house in a nice neighborhood (check)
5. Be a successful business woman and have a career I love (check)
6. Travel. A lot. (check)
7. If things with boy-from-the-lake don't work out, #1 backup choice is Joey McIntyre. (didn't needbackup choice)
So, as you can see, I have everything I wanted when I was 13 years old. I've worked so hard for everything I have, from our house, to honoring the commitment I made when I married boy-from-the-lake even though I want to beat him with a frying pan.
So then WHY, why when I should be the happiest, am I the heaviest I ever weighed? I am now just shy of 5'4" tall and weigh 210 according to my scale, which I think is 5 pounds off so I could be as high as 215.
Because in the darkest recesses of my soul, I don't feel like I deserve it. Any of it. Yes, I had a really hard childhood. Who didn't? Why do all of those feelings of not being good enough still hold me back from being me at my full potential? Why don't I feel like I deserve my successes? What pain am I feeling that needs to be covered with the full, comforting effect of stuffing myself til I am sick?
Taste the pain.
Not the cupcake.
xoxo
Betty
I did start maturing at a really young age. I was curvy at 9. I had breasts. I had hair in places hair should not grow when you're that young. I was a child in a woman's body. Of course this is the mid 80's and everyone has to comment on it. Nowadays, knowing what we know about how kids internalize comments, hopefully folks wouldn't be so brazen. I always heard how 'big' I was getting. Of course people could have meant height wise, that's not how I heard it, though. When you're 9 and your family and family friends are already telling you how easy childbirth will be for you, you can get a little self conscious about the size of your hips. I wore a womens size 8 (let me specify...an 80's size 8, not a 2009 size 8) when I was 9 years old. That was the only way they would fit me in the hips. I was too curvy for my own damn good.
On my 13th birthday I was 5'2" tall and 120 pounds. I remember this so specificially because after this year, I have never seen this number on the scale since. Aaaahhh, the good old days.
But, back then, I thought I was so fat. A cow. Who would want to look at me? Be my friend? Be my boyfriend? Well...there was one boy, which lead me to this whole thought process between the time my alarm went off and I stepped into the cold morning.
If I made a list when I was 13 years old of what I wanted out of my life, it would look something like this:
1. Marry the-boy-from-the-lake (check)
2. Have two great kids, one boy, one girl (check)
3. Have one dog, one cat (check)
4. Own a cute house in a nice neighborhood (check)
5. Be a successful business woman and have a career I love (check)
6. Travel. A lot. (check)
7. If things with boy-from-the-lake don't work out, #1 backup choice is Joey McIntyre. (didn't needbackup choice)
So, as you can see, I have everything I wanted when I was 13 years old. I've worked so hard for everything I have, from our house, to honoring the commitment I made when I married boy-from-the-lake even though I want to beat him with a frying pan.
So then WHY, why when I should be the happiest, am I the heaviest I ever weighed? I am now just shy of 5'4" tall and weigh 210 according to my scale, which I think is 5 pounds off so I could be as high as 215.
Because in the darkest recesses of my soul, I don't feel like I deserve it. Any of it. Yes, I had a really hard childhood. Who didn't? Why do all of those feelings of not being good enough still hold me back from being me at my full potential? Why don't I feel like I deserve my successes? What pain am I feeling that needs to be covered with the full, comforting effect of stuffing myself til I am sick?
Taste the pain.
Not the cupcake.
xoxo
Betty
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Look, ma! A shiny, new blog!
Another weight loss, diet, exercise, health, mommy, chick blog...
Who really wants to read about an overweight, married mom in her almost mid thirties who eats every time she feels something? I read some fantastic blogs written by incredible writers who have more creativity in their left pinky than I have in my entire body. How can I possibly compare to any of them and I sure don't expect to have their popularity.
I love it when I read a sentence, paragraph, or whole entry and relate to it so intently I wonder if I was being spied on. If someone reads something here and can relate to what I'm saying and maybe it helps them figure something out, not eat a donut, or save the world, my purpose will be served.
Well, I have two purposes. My other is to taste the pain instead of stuffing it with food. Taste the Pain is one of the best songs on one of the best albums; Mothers Milk by the Chili Peppers. Every time I feel something I stuff it, when I'm not in a fog emotions that are normal for so many people to handle seem so intensified. Little situations come up that I should be able to handle with as much stress as it takes to tie a shoelace, amount to the stress you feel instead when you find out your inlaws have shown up 24 hours early, your house is a mess, and you haven't gone to the grocery store yet.
Walk away, taste the pain.
Come again some other day.
Aren't you glad we weren't afraid?
Funny how the price gets paid.
But, if I'm going to be honest with myself, the first step would be admitting if someone ever actually does read this, please comment, it makes me feel warm and squishy inside. I promise I won't eat in celebration.
xoxo
Betty
Who really wants to read about an overweight, married mom in her almost mid thirties who eats every time she feels something? I read some fantastic blogs written by incredible writers who have more creativity in their left pinky than I have in my entire body. How can I possibly compare to any of them and I sure don't expect to have their popularity.
I love it when I read a sentence, paragraph, or whole entry and relate to it so intently I wonder if I was being spied on. If someone reads something here and can relate to what I'm saying and maybe it helps them figure something out, not eat a donut, or save the world, my purpose will be served.
Well, I have two purposes. My other is to taste the pain instead of stuffing it with food. Taste the Pain is one of the best songs on one of the best albums; Mothers Milk by the Chili Peppers. Every time I feel something I stuff it, when I'm not in a fog emotions that are normal for so many people to handle seem so intensified. Little situations come up that I should be able to handle with as much stress as it takes to tie a shoelace, amount to the stress you feel instead when you find out your inlaws have shown up 24 hours early, your house is a mess, and you haven't gone to the grocery store yet.
Walk away, taste the pain.
Come again some other day.
Aren't you glad we weren't afraid?
Funny how the price gets paid.
But, if I'm going to be honest with myself, the first step would be admitting if someone ever actually does read this, please comment, it makes me feel warm and squishy inside. I promise I won't eat in celebration.
xoxo
Betty
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