Suck It Up, Buttercup!

In a post titled Wisdom of Fat, I swore that I'd get myself off the sofa and onto the treadmill. I wanted to break my lifelong habit of laziness & bad health with some daily exercise, other than the walk between bookshelf & fridge! When I made this promise, I was determined to change things, and yet, nothing has changed.

The last few months I've complained a bunch about being in pain: I've had almost daily headaches, body aches, and toothaches. As usual, I've let this derail me from almost everything I've wanted to do. NO MORE!

In my lifetime I've probably made this kind of promise as many times as an alcoholic says they'll give up drinking. Nearly every day I say to someone "I'm going to start exercising (insert time here). " And I always mean it. But something always stops me: something big, like a seizure, which can knock me out for days; or something small, like a headache, or wanting to finish watching an episode of Seinfeld. Valid or not, I'm through making excuses.

My BFF, Shel, has spent the last 2 years fighting breast cancer, and I need to take her advice:

"Suck it up, Buttercup!"

Yes, I'm sure I'm still going to have pain. Big deal. If Shel can get through it, so can I. We buttercups are pretty tough, after all!

Frozen Song & Dance

Posted on September 3, 2010 by jonnadee| Leave a comment

This afternoon as I pushed my cart through WinCo, I was struck with jealousy for the bright & shiny little girl who stood in her parents cart, smiling & singing at the top of her voice. She was so happy, smiling at everyone who walked by. I wanted to sing along with her, right there in frozen foods.

This is the curse of adulthood for me. I’m able to sing along with every episode of Glee and have even been known to get up & dance occasionally, enjoying every single moment! From childhood I’ve believed life should be scattered with song & dance numbers, and there was a time I was the one planning them. So, while my wooden spoon becomes a microphone for me while I make dinner, I wasn’t brave enough to sing along with that sweet little girl today, even though I knew all the words.

If I’m in front of a preschool class, yes, I could sing, and be silly. Tell stories, dance & laugh; play and have a ball. That’s why I know that girl wouldn’t have minded if I sang with her; little kids love to share their joy.

When did I lose that? Where did my joy in music & being silly go? I didn’t know any of those people in the store; why did I care what they thought?

Next time I’m in a store (or an elevator, or anywhere) and I hear a song I know & like playing on the overhead music system, I won’t just hum to myself, I’ll sing out loud & proud! Maybe even dance a little. And if I see a child singing, I’ll join in. I promise.

Summertime Fun?

Posted on July 8, 2010 by jonnadee

I have never been what you’d call an outdoorsy person, always preferring to stay indoors, or at least in the shade, with my book, while others are splashing in the pool, or tanning, camping & hiking. I’m perfectly happy to sit around the pool with a frosty beverage (preferably served by a hunky Bruce Willis look-alike!), chatting with friends, laughing at the girl who fell out of her bikini top, or talking about stupid movies we’ve seen. Here I’m comfy, happy, and seldom sweaty.

I’ve spent several summers without the advantages of air conditioning, and that doesn’t bother me much. Since I’m usually about 10 degrees colder than everyone else in the room, I actually prefer things a little warmer. (I wear socks & sweaters year-round, for pete’s sake!) So when someone says to me “Well, there are cool-weather camping & hiking spots,” I say “So what?”

I do not want to hike. I’ll walk to the bus stop, and from there to the bookstore, the library, the cafe, anywhere else I need to go. I’ll walk on the treadmill for my exercise, but I don’t like it! Walking is a form of transportation. If I want to know what’s at the top of that mountain, I’ll read National Geographic.

I do not want to camp. I am a human being living in America in the 21st Century; there is no need for me to live in a hut, to pee in the woods, to sleep on the ground. Unless you are Jeff Probst, and I’m gonna get a million bucks at the end, I don’t really want to play in the woods! And let’s be honest, 20 seasons of watching people suffer on Survivor hasn’t done a lot to change my mind.

Cement ponds are a whole other subject. I’m not a great swimmer, and in fact, my one big fear involves fast-moving water. I’m not scared of pools, though, just shopping for a swimsuit. I’d say it’s been five years since I’ve owned one; last summer, for my one foray into the pool, I wore shorts and a t-shirt! I can’t spend this entire summer on the sofa, and I like to be dressed appropriately, so I’ll be buying a swimsuit soon. I won’t like it, and may not even look at myself in those dressing room mirrors–I’m sure they’re circus castoffs!–but I will get in the water.

I still won’t hike, or sleep on the ground. But I’ll swim. So, can we shut up and have a summer now?

Dream of the Big Birds

Posted on July 4, 2010 by jonnadee

“I had a dream…a dream about you, Big Bird!”

Well, not quite. For the past few nights I’ve had the same dream, featuring big birds, although not of the Sesame Street variety.

Imagine, if you will, a tropical island, somewhere Gilligan or Jeff Probst would hang out. On this island, huge birds of all types flock: giant crows, black as night; pigeons big as city buses; parrots larger than Mardi Gras floats! These birds not only rule over the puny humans on their beautiful island, they eat them, cracking open a head like a nut. The tiny people scurry like ants in fear, hiding each time a birdsong is heard! There is hope, however: if you are brightly colored, or have a beautiful voice, the birds may just decide to keep you alive.

I was held by large cockatoo, who kept me in a large bamboo cage, called me “Puddin’” and forced me to sing for my life. Not a bad deal, considering I never remember all the words! Of course, I don’t like birdseed, which was what she fed me. And sleeping on that little perch was very difficult. But at least it saved my head from nutsville!

All in all, I think I’ll stick with Sesame Street.

Internet Junkie

Posted on June 20, 2010

by jonnadee

Yes, I am an Internet junkie. I confess, I check my Facebook status at least once an hour. For someone with no life, coming up with clever things to say is a challenge! And Twitter, well that is a whole other world!

Recently I discovered I can follow the characters of my favorite television show on Twitter, and have little tweets with them (or at least people pretending to be them)! Well, I was hooked. I have spent hours tweeting with the cast of True Blood, talking vampire stuff, and loving every minute! I feel ridiculous admitting that, but I can’t be the only one. Can I?

Does it matter if I’m addicted to stupid things? No, I tell you! My name is Jonna, I am an Internet junkie, and I do not need an intervention. What I need is a faster wireless server!

The cast of True Blood: I wanna do bad Tweets with you!

Wisdom of Fat

“Believe in yourself, and others will, too.”

That’s what my Facebook fortune cookie told me today. Somehow, I find it easier to believe in the wisdom of an imaginary Chinese treat than in the truth I hear in my own head each day.

I am a woman in 21st Century America. This means I have “body issues,” and “self-esteem issues,” and “food issues.”

I was not aware I had food issues until recently. As with many things, Oprah told me about it. I was aware I had problem with my weight; yes, I am a fat girl. (That’s right, I used the f-word! Get used to it.) I’ve gone up & down the scale since puberty, and have never liked the higher end. A lot of fat girls will tell you “Oh, I never eat more than a salad!” and you know they’re lying. With me, it’s true. Well, partly. I don’t eat much salad, but I don’t eat much of anything. I am the fat girl who doesn’t eat a ton.

Until age 9, I was the smallest, skinniest girl in class. Also the loudest, bossiest and surrounded by friends. My life changed between second and third grade, when I got glasses (not a bad thing–I was delighted to be able to read without a headache!) and gained 30 pounds! When school began in September, I looked like a different girl, and the same kids who had been my friends treated my like an outcast. I was stunned. Since I hadn’t changed what I ate, my relationship to food didn’t change then. The doctor only said “she’ll grow out of it,” which I never did.

I finished my years in that school miserable, and was thrilled when my family moved to a new state. It was a chance for a fresh start. I made new friends in that school, friends I still have today, 30 years later! And by high school, I realized I wasn’t as fat as I thought I was. I was still one of the bigger girls, but it didn’t matter, and I had fun! College was up & down, in many ways. I gained and lost jobs, friends, and weight, and grew up.

But I still did not realize I had issues with food. With how I looked, yes. How could I avoid that? I love glossy magazines. I am always ticked that my hair doesn’t look like the models, even when I follow the step-by-step directions! My lipstick never lasts, and my nail polish chips. Invariably, I miss a spot when I shave my legs. Yet I look in the mirror, and don’t see a goblin. I see a beautiful woman. A fat woman, too.

Watching Oprah a few weeks ago, I was struck by the stories of an audience full of women who say they’ll never need to diet again. All of them had read the guest’s book, Women Food and God, and have stopped being compulsive over-eaters. I watched, with tears in my eyes, and rushed to get a copy. But as I read, I realized –I am not this woman. I don’t eat to hide from pain, or out of denial. (I do tend to go overboard on the potato chips when I’m bored, but it’s not quite the same thing!) In spite of what Oprah and Geneen Roth say, I don’t have “food issues!” Whoo-hoo!

Turns out my issue is that I’m lazy, which my sister has known for years. If I’d get up off the couch and do some exercise, I’d be fine. Easier said than done, right? Am I willing to do an hour on the treadmill if it means I’ll be able to buy that dress I spotted yesterday? Maybe. But if it means I will feel alive again, get a grip on my life, and stop focusing on food all the time, then yes! As much as I hate to sweat, I despise feeling like a stranger in my own body more. Next stop–treadmill.