The No-Good-Very-Bad-Suck-Ass Day... That Totally ISN'T.

     I am having a suck-ass day. It shouldn't be a suck-ass day. Today I can say I am down 20, yes 20!, pounds. I feel physically better and can see slight differences in the way I look. I finally got around to dying my hair again, which desperately needed it, since the summer sun and chlorine had stripped my previously purple hair down to some vaguely purple strands, dark roots, bleached blonde ends and lots of gray at the temples. (Thanks, kids!) My hair is now indigo blue at the roots, and denim blue on the ends and I love it. (And yes, that is a giant trampoline in my living room, because when you have kiddos with trauma histories and severe ADHD, AND sensory processing disorders, sometimes things are a little different in your house.)

     Oh, and tomorrow, the four of us are headed to Boston because The Hubs got me tickets to Hamilton for my birthday back in April and it's finally time for the show. I'm super excited to see Hamilton, of course, since I am obsessed and a total theater nerd. Plus, a couple of days away from home might be good for all of us.

     So what makes today so suck-ass? Ugh. Just life. I just have that familiar feeling of depression and doom washing over me. Not for any real reason. Just feeling overwhelmed by life. We are having car issues for like the 45th time this year. A car that we are borrowing from a super generous friend broke down yesterday while I was driving with the kids and I had to get it towed at 1 o'clock in the morning last night, after I got off work, so that will require time and money to get handled. It seems like no matter what we do, we just can NOT get ahead of the game. Don't get me wrong, we know how lucky we are in many, many ways, but it seems like every time we take a financial step forward, we get the crap knocked out of us, and knocked back twelve steps. I hate, hate, hate worrying about money. I know money doesn't solve all problems, or bring happiness, but holy shit, NOT having it ain't helping either.

     Why else is it suck-ass? Not really any other reason. We have multiple awesome people who helped us when we needed it, one giving me a ride and another fixing the car. We are healthy, relatively sane, and I'm going to frickin' Hamilton! Now that I write out my whiny complaints, I realize that it's really not so bad. I'm assuming my depressive slump is just a hormonal emotional swing of some kind. Nothing a little Beyonce, Tay-Tay and Gaga can't get me through. (And let's be honest, some Paxil too.) Thanks for listening. Go about your business now.

Two Weeks Later...

     So, be honest.... were you thinking that I probably gave up by now? Were you thinking that I maybe kicked ass on my self-improvement mission for like a day or two, and now I could be found on my couch, sucking down some Ben and Jerry's and considering deleting my original blog post? Cuz I was thinking those things for sure. I was NOT thinking this.....

     Whaaaatttt? Right???? Two weeks in and I have lost almost 17 pounds and I am pretty friggin amazed at myself. I'm telling you, something is different. That light... the big, bright, shiny Jenn-light that shines so bright... it's coming back. A little at a time. Now, no, I am not seeing any big differences yet, but I do see little things here and there. My ring is loose and actually spinning around my finger at times, which it never does. It's basically been melded onto my finger for the past few years. Clothes fit ever so slightly different. The bigger differences though, are in the way I feel. I feel healthier. I have more energy. I feel... powerful. I feel like I can so totally do this. 

     So what have I been doing? I started tracking what I eat on the Lose It app, which I love. It gives me a clear view of what I am eating, how much nutrition I am getting, and what I can do better. I am trying to be more active, which isn't hard to do, since my previous activity level was stationary, with occasional child-chasing. I do have a challenge in that I ruptured a disc in my back a few years ago, and that, plus carrying around a toddler for a couple of years, have made life pretty painful for me at times. But, I have done what I can, in small doses. I have been swimming laps at the pool, instead of just lazing while my kids try and drown one another. (Don't worry, I'm still watching them!) I have been walking where and when I can. I have also been listening to a kick ass, self-motivating soundtrack that I created for myself on Spotify. It's very "girl power"-y and every song makes me feel happy, energized and ready for anything. I mean, how can you feel bad listening to Kesha sing, "I'm a mother fuckin' woman!"? I am more than happy to share my playlist here, but I will forewarn you, this is not a playlist for those who blush at swear words.... then again, neither is this blog, I guess. Screw it, here it is... Get It Girl on Spotify. (Oh, and you will find a couple of Aaron Tveit tracks thrown in there, since he was the one who told me to "get it girl" in the first place. Thanks again, Aaron.)

     Here's the craziest thing ever though... I have not cheated, at ALL. I mean, technically, I am not dieting, just being healthier, so there isn't really anything to cheat on, but what I mean is that I have not done any middle of the night Oreo assaults or grabbing a bite here and there of my kid's mac and cheese. I haven't wanted to, and THAT is a weird feeling for me. I have never once met a diet or weight-loss plan that I didn't want to cheat on, heavily. All I can figure is that I'm starting to remember that I am actually worth it. I'm worth being faithful to. How's that for some self-love mush for ya?

     This week, the plan is to move my gym-quality, super expensive elliptical trainer back into the house from the garage. The Hubs bought it for me when I went on another "I'm gonna get healthy" crusade a few years back. That quest ended before the elliptical got delivered, and the old gal's pretty much been in the garage since. We will see if this time I use it for something other than drying clothes on it.

The Day (Well, Night, Really..) That Broadway Heartthrob Aaron Tveit Convinced Me To Finally Lose Weight

    Well, guys. It happened. Something seems to have finally motivated me to lose some goddamned weight. It was dreamy star of stage and screen, Aaron Tveit. No, I did not meet him somewhere and he was randomly mean to me, nor was he motivational in convincing me to drop some lbs. And no, I'm not some crazed psycho fan lady, (sadly, no longer qualified to be a fan girl), convinced that if I lose some weight, Aaron will magically show up in my home town and whisk me off my feet. I'm far too sensible for that, not to mention, happily married. Maybe I should back up just a bit...

     I have always, always been fat. I was teased and called the "f" word when I was in elementary
school, often by my own, asshole of an uncle, just for being chubbier than the other kids. In middle school, I was awkward as hell, (not unlike anyone else), but lucky me, I was also overweight too, so again, I was a slow moving target for my peers. I couldn't climb the rope in gym. They found it soooo funny. I didn't look good in the ever popular pegged jeans and body suit tops of the 90's. Friggin hysterical. My dumbass gym shorts were always riding up and exposing my meaty thighs. Comedy gold. High school wasn't too much better, but I did slowly start having less and less fucks to give. This was mostly because my dad died after a 7 year long battle with cancer, when I was only 15. That at least made people back off of me for a bit, since they didn't know what to say, and it gave me a chance to find my own place in the weird world of high school. I started looking at the bigger picture, being able to laugh at myself more, and care what everyone else thought less. Well, a little less.

My awkward self, my senior year of high school. 

     Now don't get me wrong... I wasn't a kid who was always being picked on. I wasn't teased relentlessly or humiliated in front of the whole school the way kids are today. (Thank Christ that social media didn't exist then, other than the very beginnings of AOL chat rooms and instant messenger. And even with that, all people cared about was finding the perfect lame song lyrics to leave as their "away message".) It's just that my weight was often the subject of the teasing that I did get, and that sucked. It wasn't something I had much control over, (Thanks, genetics.), nor was it how I wanted to be, but it just was. I wasn't without friends. I might even have been considered mildly popul.. nope. Not popular. Too strong of a word. I was medium. I was right in the middle. I was far from the lowest rung of the social ladder, but never in with the "in" crowd either. I was liked by members of all Breakfast Club groupings... the brains, the athletes, the basket cases, the princesses and I even had a criminal friend or two. But because I was heavier than most of the other girls, I would never earn a spot on anyone's popularity lists. I was ok with that though. I didn't really want to be like anyone else. I mean, I wasn't happy that I was chubby. Of course I wanted to be thin and attractive like the popular girls, but I didn't want to act like them or be mean like them. That wasn't who I was. I just didn't want people to look at me and decide I had less value, based on the size of my boot cut jeans.

    The period of my life after high school was kind of amazing. At 19, I fulfilled what had been my lifelong dream to move to Orlando and work for Disney. I was on my own, with not a person I knew living in the entire state, but I was thrilled to be doing what I loved. That happiness must have shown through into what I projected out to the world, because I made friends everywhere I went. I was in the middle of several social circles and I was even (gasp!) attracting guys! The confidence and happiness that I had found worked their magic on my outward appearance too. I slimmed down to a size 14... the smallest I had been in a LONG time. I wasn't even really trying to lose weight. I was just busy and active and things seemed to happen on their own. I dated here and there and eventually met that guy. You know the one from every decent rom-com that just seems like "the one". First we became friends and then we fell madly in love. Like, crazy, silly movie love, where the sky is bluer and the little animated birds land on your finger. Everything seemed perfect all the time, as long as he was around. And here's the craziest part... he reciprocated all of my feelings. In fact, he was the first one to say 'I love you'. He was the one to start calling me his girlfriend. He introduced me to his family. Could it have all been fake? Maybe, but somehow I just knew it wasn't. I couldn't figure out how I got this lucky, but there it was. We talked about a life together... dreams, goals, kids.... the whole thing. I existed in this love-filled bubble of bliss for just about a year. Then the fucking bubble popped, and I crashed to the ground, hard. Out of NO WHERE, the dude broke my heart and ended everything. I had ZERO warning signs that the end was near. One day he loved me and the next day, he was done. (At least, that's how it felt.) I was destroyed. I never got any sort of explanation. One time, about a year later, I did run into his old roommate. He told me that my ex had started dating someone else right before he broke up with me, someone skinny, and talented, and beautiful. Now, it may be my own self-doubt and sense of self-worth, but I have always thought that maybe he started to feel really serious about me, and realized that I wasn't enough for him. I didn't graduate college. I didn't have any ambitions that reached beyond working for Disney forever. I was still awkward at times, and I had emotional baggage from my past. And oh yeah, I was still fat. At least, in my eyes I was. A 14 was still a long way from a 4 and my ex was attractive, tall and slim. He caught every girl's eye. I kept wondering when it was he'd realize that he could do better. Maybe my own negative self-worth is what took me down in the end. Part of me still really wishes I knew what made him walk away, but the smart part of me knows it really doesn't matter.

Me at my thinnest. Holy cow, I was young. 

     So.... after my first real heartbreak, I did what most girls do. I went for the revenge body. I lost even more weight, worked out a lot, bought nicer clothes, changed my hair... the whole nine. It didn't bring my ex back, but it did re-up my confidence. It helped me stop thinking that I deserved to be broken up with, and brought back that (to quote Meg Ryan in "French Kiss") big, bright, shiny Jenn-light that burned so bright. I started making my way up the ranks at Disney and I had a guy or two who had shown interested in me. I was flirted with when I was out in public, and I could stand looking at my own reflection in store windows. I felt great. That was about the time when my now husband came into my life, and that was incredible. I started realizing that everything happens for a reason and that only I had control over how people saw me. Only I could decide what my value was. (It should be noted that even though I was more confident and I was feelin' the way I looked a lot more, I STILL saw myself as fat, because I was a size 12, not a 2. Man, would I kill to be that "fat" again!)

     Ok, I'm not quite to Aaron Tveit yet, but we're getting there. You still with me? Alright, moving on. Fast forward fifteen years, to the present. I sit here, heavier than I have ever been in my life. Fatter than I ever thought I would be. I'd tell you what I weigh, but it doesn't really matter beyond the fact that it's enough to be unhealthy and unhappy. (Not enough to be removed from my house via crane, but you get the picture.) The past 13 years that I have been married to my husband have been amazing. I've felt valued, loved and (mostly) worthy of love. We have elements of movie love, genuine love and admiration, and so much more. We have grown this incredible family, and we have finally settled down in the place we want to be, but those 13 years have also been filled with stress, family problems, many, many inter-state moves, financial struggles and add to all of that, parenting two kiddos from hard places. I wouldn't change any of it for the world, but over the years, I have lost who I am. That great big, bright, shiny Jenn light has dimmed to the point of almost being extinguished. I have no self-confidence, (even though I fake it pretty well), and don't place much value on myself. I give myself excuse after excuse for gaining all this weight, but the truth is, I think I've stopped feeling like I'm worth anything else. My main role in life is Mom. It's an awesome role, but it's a role that doesn't require sex appeal, personal attention or really much self-worth. In fact, it's probably a pretty self-deprecating role. I always feel like things are my fault, like I could be doing more, and like I should be better at this than I am. I feel pretty miserable about myself on an almost daily basis. This is not my husband's fault. He does everything I need him to do to show me I am loved and lovable. We have something real, and magical. He's my best friend, my confidant, my partner in crime, my comedic partner and an incredible father and all around man. My dimmed light is my own deal.

Me with my wonderful Hubs

     Ok, finally, cue Aaron Tveit. Well, ok, cue my dream, starring Aaron Tveit. Last night I fell asleep to Aaron's spine-tingling version of the song "Come What May". Just a few weeks ago, I saw the stage version of "Moulin Rouge", in which Aaron plays a love-sick, passionate composer and man, did I enjoy hearing his incredible voice belt out romantic lyrics like, "I want to vanish inside your kiss." And, let's be honest, he's pretty easy on the eyes. I may have become a bit smitten. Well, the elixir of a hot guy singing romantic words in my ear, plus some Advil PM, created a pretty fantastic dream. In my dream I was in my "revenge body" phase, and I was out somewhere and met Mr. Tveit. We started talking and he immediately said that he wanted to take me out. He kept begging to date me and saying how beautiful and funny I was and how much he wanted to get to know me and of course, eventually, live happily ever after... just me and the hot singer dude with the great arms. Siiigggghhhh.......

The subject of my dream, strictly for reference
purposes, of course. 

     For some stupid reason, my alarm went off and I had to get up to take my dumb kids, (sorry, my truly amazing and marvelous children), to school. I was legit angry and seriously depressed that my dream was not real. But here's where the magic happened. Here's where I realized what I have been missing for quite sometime now.... I wasn't sad because I'm not actually dating Aaron Tveit. (I mean, I wouldn't be mad if I was, and no offense to The Hubs, but I wouldn't rule it out as an option, should the opportunity present itself. Just sayin'.) I was sad because in my dream, I had that feeling again. The big, bright, shiny Jenn-light was blazing brightly in that dream, if only for a brief moment. I was confident and happy and I was wanted by someone other than my husband and kids. No, this is not where I disclose that I want to cheat on my husband and be with a man that is obsessed with me. As I said, my husband is awesome and I know how much he loves me. He's never seen me as less than or made me feel worthless. It's not that. It's that I miss feeling attractive. I miss feeling desirable. I miss thinking that the guy at the cash register just gave me a free upgrade to a large because he wants me, not because he feels bad for me. I want to want to make an effort again. I'm sick of being a lump of a person, sitting back watching life happen around me. I'm ready to be an active participant. I'm ready to like me again.

     Let me stop you before you start commenting about how I should love myself at any size and how I am no less attractive because I am overweight, etc. Even if I can love myself at any size, I can't be proud of myself at any size. I just can't. It sucks that our vision of beauty in this world is as narrow as it is, but thinking that doesn't make it any easier to enjoy looking at my rolls or my pudgy face. It doesn't make clothes fit me better or make it possible for me to shop in just any store I feel like walking into. And it certainly doesn't make me any healthier, mentally or physically.

     After I got the kids off to school, I gave myself time to fully come to this realization that what I am missing in my life is my big, bright, shiny Jenn-light, which finally burned so bright again for a tiny moment in my dream, and I cried. I cried out of pain for the person I have let myself become. I cried out of sadness that I have allowed myself to live light-less for this long. I cried out of happiness from that feeling of being fully desirable and loving myself in that dream. But I think I mostly cried out of relief that maybe I have finally found what I have been looking for: the motivation to change. I started my day with a healthy breakfast and a walk, and with so much ease, I spent my day making healthy choices, and feeling like I was taking care of me, because I deserved better. Yes, I hear you. It was one day, hold your friggin applause for yourself. It just felt different this time. Maybe tomorrow it'll feel sucky again and like losing weight is too hard, and maybe I won't want to try. But maybe, just maybe, I'll then think about that feeling from my delicious dream, and I'll pick myself right on up again and keep moving toward the big, bright, shiny Jenn-light that burns so bright.

     So, thanks, Aaron Tveit, for allowing my brain to use your image to remind myself what it feels like to have that light on. Maybe someday, I'll thank you in person and we can run away together. Just kidding. Kind of. Call me.