41 Pound Weight

That's what's hangs on my hips. Thighs. Chin. Waist. You name it. The 41 pounds of weight is there.

You see, I'm a full sized girl. Zeftig. Rubenesque-Whatever adjective you want to use. I could say fat. Guess, I am. Yet, it doesn't sounds a groovy cool at zeftig. Sounds put downish, and I ain't nothing about being put down. The deal is, I've had this blog since 2008--right before I bought this house. Adventures along the way, yet at present, kinda stalled on the blog front. A friend asked me if I was going to keep up with it. I knew I wanted to. Life has alot of dips and such. But I didn't know what I wanted to write about. Doing this blog had become dull. I cannot tell a lie, however I wanted to continue.

Sure, there are things going on: politics, football, teen idol crushes from once upon a decade, could be commented on. But what is my blog's purpose? In my new favorite movie, "Julie and Julia" (starring phenomenal Meryl Streep as Julia Child) the husband of Julie (not Julia) asked her what was most important to her, when Julie asked what she should blog about. I sat in the theatre and had my 'A-ha' moment, which I'm sure Oprah would be so proud.

All of life is important to me. Yet the one thing, that hangs all over me is 41 pounds of weight. I've mentioned before my mitral valve replacement surgery in March 2006. In fact, I had a 6 months check up last week with my cardiologist. Such high marks I received. My doc was thrilled-alas, my blood pressure was a bit high. It always is, when I see her.

My weight. I'd recently lost a few pounds, but I never put my full weight on my bathroom scale. Denial. I've been back exercising-walking and treadmilling. And will do aerobics tomorrow. The truth is, I'd lost 70 pounds. Still a full figured girl. I was a 16/18, with a goal of 14, which is the average size of a woman. Around the time I bought the house, job went haywire, and my exercise regime fell to the wayside. As that fell, my weight climbed. I don't know if I actually gained all of the 70 pounds back. A good chunk landed on my hips though.

I do know I had to get over the denial and put my feet down. Both of them. So as of this morning, I'm 41 pounds away from where I was after surgery. When Movie Man first saw me in real clothes when he came to take me home from the hospital that chilly day in March 2006, "Where did you go?"

That's what this blog's new phase will entail. The journey we'll take together to lose 41 pounds. I want more--yet, let's get to where we were before. Why share it with you?

Why not? You'll keep me accountable. We'll help each other. I'm not into Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers (which I've done years ago) or anything else, however if you are and they work for you--then Do It! We can talk about it. You and me. I'm not gonna lie and say, "I will NEVER eat another onion ring or ice cream!"

Get real. Eat in moderation. Know what you're putting in your body. I did it before. I can do it again.

And I will still have something to say about Donny Osmond and any other teen dream I had, plus any current one. And anything else I feel like chatting about, but first and foremost, I'll tell you how the day went when it came to munching--like today, instead of my usual old fashioned oatmeal you fix on the stove, with a spoonful of brown sugar and sliced fresh strawberries, I savored a peanut butter sandwich on 100% wheat bread, which I've chowed for years, with whole fresh strawberries. See, you make me accountable!

Do I have a deadline? Sure, I'd love for this 41 pound weight gone by my next cardiologist visit in January 2010.

You just never know.

This is life.

Live it!

July 9, 1928 was Monday

And the day my mom was born. Eighty-one years ago. If Mom had lived I try to picture her at this age. Would she still be as fiesty as I remember? Still savor her gin? Let her hair go naturally gray? That part I kinda doubt. Would she still love me as much?

I know this part to be true. I wonder if Mom would be as proud We didn't have time to get into 'chats' about what I ought to do as a grown up. Mom died of complications from weight loss surgery in 1971. Yellow liver atrophy got her on a Friday and by Monday Mom was gone. So I always think of how it could be. I do remember my interest in taking French in high school, while Mom thought I should type and such--it was the 70's.

When Mom was second of five kids, plus second daughter I wonder what her parents thought? I can imagine Mom being a fussy baby--needed stuff done that second. Her family was poor--and I'm not sure of how much love was shown. Mom's mom passed when I was a year old. While by the time Mom died, she and her father were estranged. I later asked my own Dad if my grandfather attended his second daughter's funeral. Dad said he did. I still wonder.

With the deaths of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis and now Michael Jackson, maybe Mom wasn't suppose to get old. Maybe she always knew. Mom told me how she wanted to be buried when I was about 11 years old. Mom died at age 43 when I was 13. I've since crossed that 43 plateau and gone onto territory Mom never had a chance to get to. That's why I wonder what she would think? Honestly, I picture Mom's stare and then squint while asked--using my FULL name-"Just what are you doing?"

Nonetheless, on this day I do smile to think Mom and Dad sit on some cloud. A cloud with a pond so they could fish. Hey, it's Heaven--so everything is possible! And in this picture where Mom gets our food ready on one of many weekend fishing jaunts. Now back on that cloud, Mom and Dad watch over me as they cast out their line. I hope they smile. They loved to fish together. And they loved me--together.

So just what am I doing?

Stay tuned.

A Day Like No Other

The lady is my mom. One of three pictures from those photobooths, somewhere in the ’60s. Have so few pictures of Mom. Due to most of the pictures I do have, Mom snapped. I’m told I favor her. My dad would say I looked just liked her. An uncle said I laughed like her. Don’t remember her laugh. I wish I did. Today is a bittersweet. For this moment, I put on my tennis shoes so I can get a quick walk in before Dancing With the Stars Results show. While I walk, I’ll think about Mom. How we would have gotten into DWTS. She loved to watch me dance eventho she relayed the heartbreaking ‘fact’ (what my dance teacher said) “Black Girls can’t be ballerinas.” All I ever really wanted to do was dance on my toes.

Often wonder what kind of friends Mom and I would be today. Sure, she’d be 80 this year, but I know my mom wouldn’t be like her grandma’s 80. Get my wit, determination and, I suppose my assertiveness from her. I miss my mom. Our life together was cut short so many years ago. September 24, in 1971 was a Friday. I raced home to tell my parents about my day that included a pep rally. I just wanted to see them because Mom hadn’t felt well for a few weeks. Since she’d elected weight loss surgery, three months prior, in June. Mom laid in bed, with my dad by her side. I saw Mom alive for the last time that night as paramedics wheeled her from our home. Mom pet our Siamese cat goodbye and told him to be good. Mom kissed me and told me when she wasn’t there I was woman of the house. Then I heard “Mama love " for the last time.

We buried her on September 29.

I’m thrilled about today. Eager for tomorrow. Sad because I miss yesterday.

I am blessed.