Can I get a WOOO HOOO??! I finished my first of many 12 week sessions with Fitness Xcellence. I have lost 11 lbs. and I can definitely tell I have lost some inches mainly in my legs! These classes have helped me sooo much! I have never loved my body, I developed early (10y/o) and always felt so insecure in my own skin. I have constantly compared myself to others and always feel like I'm fat. After having Anna I have never felt so horrible about my physical self. Things have shifted, I have more stretch marks and just feel dumpy and old. I am in awe of my body from the whole amazing process of pregnancy and delivery but it seems overshadowed by the negative transformations that have occurred.
I had a formal event to attend back in December, I tried on all the dresses I own and nothing fit. I went shopping and nothing fit. Finally after a day spent in tears, I found a dress that I didn't really like but it was on sale and it was the only thing I found that fit. My New Year's Resolution was to take better care of myself physically and mentally. I joined Fitness Excellence and have found so much support. I love the ladies I am class with and Blake, the trainer always cracks me up with remarks like "This is work out, not BUNKO!" I had an event last weekend and again tried on all the dresses I own. There is a particular dress that is my absolute favorite, it has the ability to just make me feel pretty. I tried this dress on and IT FIT!! I haven't been able to wear this dress in 4 years and now it fits!! This is just one example of how I am feeling better about myself.
I know I will never be a size 0 or look like a supermodel but I know that I can get to where I am healthy and happy with my body. I am going to take the 12 week session classes for probably the next year. I do not have a set weight goal or size I am trying to achieve. I am just trying to be the "best me" I can be. I want a healthy lifestyle for me and my family. I am glad Dave is taking the classes to because we support and compete(I hate losing) with each other. I told Blake a couple of weeks ago about my "dress" story and he said, "We're just scratching the surface". Yep, I am a work in progress and it feels great!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
7 Months and 3 years!
I see so much of Dave and I in Anna. It is funny what characteristics from both of us she has. She is like Dave in that she is social, happy and pretty easy going. She is like me in that she can be dramatic, she lets you know quick if she is unhappy and has moments where she gets overwhelmed. She is like both of us in that she expects the world to revolve around her and yep, it does!
Anna loves, loves, loves the water. I am thinking of enrolling her in swim school soon because I think she will really enjoy it. I have so much fun with Anna, I make up songs and sing to her all the time. I am goofy and really silly with her and it is wonderful seeing the little person she is becoming.
On another note, Dave and I will be married 3 years this month! Whew! We are going to Vegas for our anniversary and I can not wait. I will miss my Anna Banana but I am looking forward to getting away from S'port! Dave is truly my other half. He is always there for me and loves me for who I am. I have to say that a lot of days I feel like the luckiest girl in the world! I have a loving husband, a beautiful baby girl and just an overall great life. I thank God each and every night for the blessings he has given me.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Black Shoe
Tomorrow, March 2 is what would have been my father's birthday. He went missing 2 1/2 years ago on August 5th. To this day, no one knows what happened to him.
Some of my extended family would like to portray my father as a good person, a missionary who found God and turned his life around. Those of us who really knew him, know differently. There were two different sides to my father: the side that other people saw that was charming, friendly and caring and then there was the side my siblings, mom and I saw that was mean, abusive and selfish. My father was an addict who had been committed twice for rehab. His drug of choice? Pretty much anything he could get his hands on(methadone, morphine, demerol, alcohol, crack/cocaine, marijuana). Pretty much you name it, he did it. He would manipulate and lie to get what he wanted. He was very good at hiding his drug use and he could look you straight in your eyes and lie to you. He did not care who he hurt and he never apologized or took responsibility for his actions. I do not have any happy memories of my life involving my father. He was simply just a man who made life hell. He would fall asleep mid conversation because he was so stoned, high or drunk. He would get high, then get paranoid and believe someone was outside the house. He would get angry and get violent. I remember hating my father so much and wishing he would overdose. He was also physically and chronically ill and we had to continuously take care of him. I was glad when he would go into the hospital because for at least a little while, life was good and sane. No one outside of my father's family knew of my father being an addict. My father's family knew but did nothing. It was much easier for them to act like everything was ok and we were one big, happy family.
I read Sylvia Plath's poem, "Daddy" in college and it just really spoke to me about my relationship with my own father. The title of this blog is in reference to that poem. I didn't invite my father to my wedding. I didn't invite him because I didn't want him to ruin what was one of the happiest days of my life. My husband met my father only when we went to go to my grandfather's funeral. He was never a father to me and didn't deserve to walk me down the aisle or even be there. He missed my college graduation and my graduate school graduation when he promised me he would be at both. Truth was he never was there for me. Of course there was always some elaborate reason why he wasn't which was always just a lie. My little brother would call me scared and crying because he didn't know where my father was and he had been missing for 3 days. My brother was 16 at the time. My father would always show up eventually with a lie that someone had stole his wallet and he went to find them. In all actuality he had spent 3 days on a drug binge in a crack house and spent all our money. When my sister called me on August 6th to tell me my father was missing, I remember telling her "It's ok, he will show up in a couple of days, he always does". I thought he was just probably on another drug binge but when the days kept passing by I knew he wasn't going to just show up.
When my grandfather passed away, my grandmother told me I should forgive my father. I cut my father out of my life 4 years prior to him going missing. The last time I saw my father was the year before at my grandfather's funeral. I eventually did forgive my father but it was for me, not for him. I didn't want to carry all of that anger anymore.
Mostly now all I feel is sadness when I think of my dad. Sad that he couldn't be the dad I wanted and needed. Some of my family believes that my father is still alive. I hope I never do find out what really happened to my dad because I don't think it was anything good. Do I believe he is still alive? No. I believe Karma is a bitch.
This isn't something I talk about with people because I do not need anyone feeling sorry for me. No one said life is easy. I feel like God was always with me, carrying me through those hard times. The reason I worked so hard in college and graduate school was because I never wanted to return to life with my father. I feel in life you have choices, you can either be a victim or you can be a survivor. I chose to be a survivor.
Some of my extended family would like to portray my father as a good person, a missionary who found God and turned his life around. Those of us who really knew him, know differently. There were two different sides to my father: the side that other people saw that was charming, friendly and caring and then there was the side my siblings, mom and I saw that was mean, abusive and selfish. My father was an addict who had been committed twice for rehab. His drug of choice? Pretty much anything he could get his hands on(methadone, morphine, demerol, alcohol, crack/cocaine, marijuana). Pretty much you name it, he did it. He would manipulate and lie to get what he wanted. He was very good at hiding his drug use and he could look you straight in your eyes and lie to you. He did not care who he hurt and he never apologized or took responsibility for his actions. I do not have any happy memories of my life involving my father. He was simply just a man who made life hell. He would fall asleep mid conversation because he was so stoned, high or drunk. He would get high, then get paranoid and believe someone was outside the house. He would get angry and get violent. I remember hating my father so much and wishing he would overdose. He was also physically and chronically ill and we had to continuously take care of him. I was glad when he would go into the hospital because for at least a little while, life was good and sane. No one outside of my father's family knew of my father being an addict. My father's family knew but did nothing. It was much easier for them to act like everything was ok and we were one big, happy family.
I read Sylvia Plath's poem, "Daddy" in college and it just really spoke to me about my relationship with my own father. The title of this blog is in reference to that poem. I didn't invite my father to my wedding. I didn't invite him because I didn't want him to ruin what was one of the happiest days of my life. My husband met my father only when we went to go to my grandfather's funeral. He was never a father to me and didn't deserve to walk me down the aisle or even be there. He missed my college graduation and my graduate school graduation when he promised me he would be at both. Truth was he never was there for me. Of course there was always some elaborate reason why he wasn't which was always just a lie. My little brother would call me scared and crying because he didn't know where my father was and he had been missing for 3 days. My brother was 16 at the time. My father would always show up eventually with a lie that someone had stole his wallet and he went to find them. In all actuality he had spent 3 days on a drug binge in a crack house and spent all our money. When my sister called me on August 6th to tell me my father was missing, I remember telling her "It's ok, he will show up in a couple of days, he always does". I thought he was just probably on another drug binge but when the days kept passing by I knew he wasn't going to just show up.
When my grandfather passed away, my grandmother told me I should forgive my father. I cut my father out of my life 4 years prior to him going missing. The last time I saw my father was the year before at my grandfather's funeral. I eventually did forgive my father but it was for me, not for him. I didn't want to carry all of that anger anymore.
Mostly now all I feel is sadness when I think of my dad. Sad that he couldn't be the dad I wanted and needed. Some of my family believes that my father is still alive. I hope I never do find out what really happened to my dad because I don't think it was anything good. Do I believe he is still alive? No. I believe Karma is a bitch.
This isn't something I talk about with people because I do not need anyone feeling sorry for me. No one said life is easy. I feel like God was always with me, carrying me through those hard times. The reason I worked so hard in college and graduate school was because I never wanted to return to life with my father. I feel in life you have choices, you can either be a victim or you can be a survivor. I chose to be a survivor.
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