What a Difference a Year Makes

December 2010

The day I started avoiding mirrors was a bad day. The worst was when I started avoiding my own shadow. I had become an eclipse, blocking out the light and casting darkness across my own path. All I could see was roundness; round face, round body and puffy fingers. There was so much overhang to my waistline, I had to buy xx sizes just to cover it.

Okay, I'm putting it in print. In December of 2010 I weighed a whopping 235 pounds.

July 2011

Seven months into Crossfit and the face is less round. Arms still fleshy, but the smile is real. Cut my hair mostly as incentive to keep working out - nothing to hide behind.

December 2011

Thinner face, neck rolls almost completely gone. Even in a bulky sweater, I look less bulky. It took nealy a year of grueling workouts, three, four, sometimes five days a week to force my metabolism into motion. Coach said if I wanted to shed the belly fat I had to eat better. He gave me a list, full paleo. Even with the occasional hiccup, I saw the difference in less than two weeks.

Did I say Crossfit for life?

Is Love Even a Possibility?

So there was this boyfriend from my teen years who claimed he never got over me, but when I was suddenly free he was about as interested in me as a field mouse in a rattler. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Close the book, end of story.

Then there was this other one. Interestingly, I think we only dated a few months when we were in our 20s, but apparently it was a good few months because here we are. Downside is he lives several states up the coast and work keeps him pretty inaccessible.

In November we finally connected. It was good. Still is, despite the distance, but will it last?

PreCrossfit 2010

In 2010 I knew I had to do something about the weight, but I had no idea where to start. I don't believe I was unattractive, just big. The worse was taking pictures. I was always the largest girl in the frame and that was devastating to my self esteem.

A friend gave me a free pass to a local Crossfit gym. http:\\crossfitresolute.com

Not only did my friend give me the free pass, she bugged me about using it. I think I went just to get her off my back. It was hard. I huffed and puffed and sweat and complained, but it felt like the first real workout I'd had in years -- because it was.

These shots are all from 2010. Check out the the round face, the neck rolls and the monster arms. This was going to take some discipline and a whole lot of it. 



Waking Up

My Aunt Hazel was around my age when she died. She was severly overweight and stressed, having lit the candle in the middle so that it burned outward in both directions. I take meds daily for hypertension, allergies, and acid reflux. My stress level has been rising consistently over the past twenty years and so has my weight.

There are crazy people on both the paternal and maternal sides of my family, and as I watch my beloved elders age and lose some of their former selves I wonder whether I will be next to face the dreaded break from reality.

On the divorce front, I think I've finally reached the stage of acceptance in the grieving process. It happened with the death of my second step-son. His death was an end to more than his life, it signaled an end to life as I'd known it. There is no place to go back to because the boys are not there anymore. You see, most of my married life was devoted to their care in some way or other. A good portion of what remained was divided between sadness and guilt. I'll delve more into those demons I'm sure at a later date.

Sometimes I miss my ex though. Sometimes I even wonder whether my decision to end our marriage wasn't another of my knee jerk reactions to an unpleasant situation. But I quickly remind myself that the decision did not come quickly and by no means was it easy. And so, I shake it off and move on. It's getting easier to look ahead, though the view is still foggy.

The one bright light in my life is my daughter. Watching her develop into the amazing young woman she is has been and continues to be nothing less than pure joy. I worry as any mother would, but I try not to be too overbearing. I dread the day when she moves out, and at the same time I'm thrilled that she feels confident enough to take that step.

So now there's no excuse for not focusing on me. I don't want the world seeing me as just another angry overweight black woman. I've started counseling, I've dusted off my Firm tapes, and next month I'm joining Crossfit for a little personal training. I'm watching what I eat rather than eating everything I see and I'm drinking my water and peeing a pale river. It will be a slow climb, especially since I'm now ten pounds heavier than when I started my last diet, but I will get there... one step at a time. One baby step at a time.

Crying and Praying

My mortgage company recently sold my loan. The new company claims I’m a month behind on my mortgage payment. In a fit of anxiety over bad dental service, I changed dentists and failed to check whether the new one was in my network, resulting in a $3,000 dental bill. Because I don’t have the money to pay the housing fee, my daughter is sleeping on the floor of a friends dorm room so I won’t have to drive her to her college every morning before I go to work. The list goes on.

I did everything a wife is supposed to. I supported his dreams, fed his ego, satisfied his physical needs and I raised his children. In the end, because I was not content to continue making him the center of the universe, I became the enemy, the scum of the earth, a traitor, a breaker of vows. I walked away with nothing to show for my sacrifice but an accumulation of debt and a broken spirit.

If tears were a valuable commodity I could pay off the debt and live the remainder of my days in utter luxury. They are not.

There has only been one man in all of my life who has loved me and required nothing of me for his love. That would be Jesus. Now don’t go getting all icky on me because I said Jesus. This is my blog and my truth.

You see every time I reach an impasse, a wilderness, a valley, a turning point; whatever, I find peace in the presence of Jesus. I’m not saying I get on my knees, say a prayer, get up and all is well. All I’m saying is I get up with enough of whatever it is I need to make it through the moment. For me prayer is sometimes a panacea and sometimes a booster shot. It is what I need it to be and it works for me. So between my crying jags, I pray.

These days I pray a lot. I pray for forgiveness and for the ability to forgive (that’s a hard one). I pray that my temporary crowns don’t fall out before I can pay the $3,000 for the bridgework. I pray that my daughter’s grades are good enough to get her a scholarship, or that I get a miracle windfall so she doesn’t have to live like a vagabond while she goes to college. I pray for the financial acumen and discipline to build a nest egg so I don’t freak out every time something breaks in the house. And sometimes I pray just because I need someone to talk to.

The Music of Life

I love smooth Jazz, you know, Bobby Caldwell, Four Play, the Yellow Jackets. The last concert I attended (and enjoyed)was  in Chicago at the Park West. Richard Elliott and Peter White rocked the house, and I sat there sipping white wine as Warren Hill made his entrance walking across the tabletops.

Last night I finally made it to Atlanta's Mablehouse Barnes Amphitheater. Boney James was the headliner; Michael Manson and the Urban Jazz Coalition kept me on my feet screaming my 51 year-old ass off. I was there with a girlfriend and fellow jazz appreciator who, not surprisingly, is not a native Georgian.

Some things have changed. I am not as young and cute and sexy as I once was, I can't pull like I once could, and I don't turn heads like back in the day, still I had a damn good time. What is really good is that nothing else matters. I am finally free to enjoy being me.

My next stop is Sambuca's, then Sweet Tea's Catfish and Blues, and Two Willy's. I hope you'll stop by. I'll be the classy middle-age chick out front, sipping on a cocktail and swooning to the soulful sounds of the house band.

Holla!