All Bitches Are Not Alike or lessons we can learn from the dog show

It's red carpet season and while I'm not huge fan of awards shows I LOVE love love Fashion Police on E! with Joan Rivers, Kelley Osbourne, and the other two that no one really cares about. Yes, I love the snarky things they say and how Joan has an awesome habit of saying just exactly what it is that I am thinking. But what I most love is that Fashion Police never picks on women for their size. They celebrate the fact that every woman is different.
Yes, they say that so and so should have pulled on a pair of Spanx under that tight satin dress, but Spanx aren't exclusive to the big girls. And they often comment how certain dresses, while beautiful, do not complement an actresses body type. They recognize that Christina Hendricks cannot wear the same dress that Jane Lynch can wear. And Jane Lynch can't wear a dress that Sandra Bullock can wear. And so on. The judges on Fashion Police judge actresses and their respective fashions can't be judged against each other but only against their selves.
Seems like I've heard this theory before.
Oh yeah. At the dog show. Being a dog loving family, we always watch the Westminster Kennel Club dog show when it's on. And someone will always say something like, "Yeah, but that Lab is way cuter than the terrier!"
Perhaps, but that's not the way it works. A terrier cannot be a Lab. And that is just the way it is. There is an ancient Chinese proverb (isn't there always?) that says that one cannot fault a pig for not having the neck of a giraffe.
Are you getting it? I can't have the body of the girl that works out at the gym with me and she cannot have the body of the girl at the coffee shop. And while my body will never look like Cameron Diaz's no matter how hard I work at it, I can work to make it a better version of my own body.
Who knew Joan Rivers and a bunch of bitches had so much wisdom?

Disapointment Rides High

I totally carbed-out yesterday. Why, you might ask? Was it a stressful day? Kids driving you nuts? Hubby being hateful? Nope. Just lost my mind, I guess. And when I say carbed-out, I ain't a lyin'. I'm talking about full on, diabetic coma inducing, bread fest.
The day started out innocently enough. Had a healthy breakfast of whole wheat toast w/ homemade sugar-free strawberry jam. Had an amazing workout at the gym then took the babies to our nearby state park for a bit of a hike and a picnic of turkey on whole wheat pita, laughing cow lite cheese wedges, fresh fruit, and yogurt. The kids splashed around in the creek for a bit then we packed up and came home. I did a bit of yard work while the kids played outside. Then we all came in for a snack. They wanted granola bars and chocolate milk, which I provided. Then I proceeded to eat the rest of the pack of pitas. (2 pitas - dry) WTF? What in the world was I smokin'? And I swear smokin' grass makes about as much sense as anything for the munchies that followed.
I realized that I was going down a path that was self-destructive. I tried to snap out of it and eat a healthier dinner. I had earlier put in a chicken to roast with rosemary and thyme. I planned on serving it w/ fresh green beans and thick slices of tomato. Healthy, no? When everything was done the kids were starving. I, of course, not so much. So I fed the kids and tried to distract myself with a few household chores. As it got closer to 8:00 I figured I had better eat something because I didn't want to leave it to too late and I knew if I didn't eat anything before going to bed I would feel like dirt in the morning. So, I ate chicken. That's it, just chicken. Then to top that all off, I ate a few pieces of raisin bread. OK, four, but I can only plead chemical induced hysteria. The chemical being simple sugar.
So, I work up this morning feeling like dirt anyway and maybe even lower than that. A plan, yeah that's it. I need a plan. So hear it is. I started breakfast with yogurt and juice. Gonna do a super cardio workout (might as well use all those carbs to fuel something) then gonna have a moderately sized green salad for lunch. Gonna flush out my system with mass quantities of water and green tea. And gonna hula hoop until I can't hoop no more. And most of all, I am absolutely not gonna eat any simple carbs.

The Shame Monster

I was just watching Dr. Oz and he was celebrating his 100th episode with people who have lost over 100 lbs. Great. I'm all about the inspiration, not to mention how desperately in need of it I am right now. So here was this lovely woman who had lost a jaw-dropping 195 lbs. The old fashioned, diet and exercise way. No surgery. And I was thinking, "Great! She must have some really great tips." and she did but that's not what struck me most about what she had to say.
She and Dr. Oz spent a lot of time talking about how when she was bigger she used to avoid things. She said that she would keep herself back from activities that she and her husband both enjoyed because she was ashamed of how she looked and she didn't want to embarrass her husband for having a fat wife. And she looked so sad when she talked about all the things that she had missed out on. My first thought was, "How ridiculous!" and my second thought was, "Hey, wait a minute. I do that. Crap!"
Then I got to thinking about all the times I have given less than my all because of my size. And not necessarily the physical limitations of being over-weight. I was thinking more about the times that I have been too embarrassed by my appearance to do something. Anything.
Turns out there were too many to count. For example, my husband and I have always wanted to go white water rafting. But I have been too embarressed to put on shorts in front of a large group of people. Especially people that I don't know. Forget about a bathing suit. And what if I went in the water and couldn't haul my fat ass back up in the raft? Then there are all the opportunities that I have passed up to travel different places because I am mortified of flying. Not for the normal reasons. I know that it is one of the safest forms of travel out there. No, what I'm scared of is the looks of the other passengers. Like, "holy crap. I hope Fatty doesn't set by me." It's horrible to even contemplate. Not to mention that I avoid, like the plague, any occasion where I would have to eat in front of other people. I feel like no matter waht is on my plate that people are judging me.
I know I can't be the only one who feels or has felt this way. If I was then Dr. Oz wouldn't be doing a show on it. So why do we  do this to ourselves. Why do we engage in thoughts and activities that we know are destructive? I know that I am being ridiculous even as I'm doing it. My husband has never in word or action indicated that he is in any way ashamed of me. Just the opposite, as a matter of fact.
The more I thought about this subject, the better I felt about it - ironically. Normally I would slide down a shame spiral until all that was left for me was a comfy pair of stretch pants. But, funnily enough, I actually feel pretty good about myself right now. I recognized that that was the  way I felt. Past tense. I try not to feel that way much anymore. Sure it creeps up now and then, but not nearly as often. Recently I even bought a very hot, hot, hot dress for a friends wedding. It was somewhat form fitting and bright purple. Something I would never have dreamed of wearing forty pounds ago, much less feeling comfortable in it. And what's more, if I do say so myself, I looked SMOKIN' hot in it. And you know what? I had a great time at that wedding. My husband and I danced and I ate and we had a blast.
So- lesson learned. The shame stops here. From now on when shame creeps in I'm going to instead focus on what I have to be proud of. I have accomplished a lot of things during this journey. Like losing forty pounds, and being stronger than I ever have been before, and having more energy for my kids and husband, and having healthier physicals than I've ever had before. So what if I was over weight before. So what if I still am. I'm working on it, aren't I? I'm not just setting there feeling sorry for myself, am I? No! Nor will I.
I figure in this life we all things that we may be ashamed of now and then. Who doesn't? But from now on, you aren't going to catch me setting around feeling sorry for myself. No, ma'am. My time is to valuable for that. Besides, I have to work on my upper-body strength. My big ass is going white-water rafting this summer. Look out!