The Long Awaited Oprah Discussion

When Oprah gave her big confessional it was everything I thought it would be. A dramatic narration that didn't come anywhere near breaking the surface of her actual issues. I don't care if Oprah reveals those publicly or not but I do think giving a cavalier gloss over and saying she needs to "love" herself more, as she schedules herself an evening manicure, is a bit simplified and not necessarily helpful to the millions of viewers who tune in for actual help and guidance.

I was watching this episode with my mother which was interesting since she and O have a fair amount in common in this department. There have been many times when my mother has stopped working on her weight and claimed "I just want to be healthy I don't care how much I weigh". Well that's really nice and kumbaya of you but it's also a lie. I think some people might actually fall into that category but I doubt a single emotional eater does. If you are an emotional eater your weight is a reflection of unprocessed feelings. There is no possible way for you to be *happy* and *healthy* and significantly overweight for your body. The very fact that Oprah is still battling her weight means she is at a minimum emotionally & psychologically unhealthy. So I'm not buying it... physical health is only half of the battle. If Oprah had said "I just want to be happy and whatever weight that is is fine" that would have been one thing and I would have stood behind that message whole heartedly.

Like my mom, I believe Oprah has an internalized negative self image (probably from her early sexual abuse) that tells her she isn't worthy of having it all. It is this internalized view that keeps her from being able to maintain a healthy weight. It isn't because Oprah wasn't valuing her physical body enough (as she claimed) or making enough time for herself. Those are just symptoms of the internal voice that is working hard to keep her from succeeding in every area of her life. It doesn't matter if you are my mom, or the one of the world's most famous women, it doesn't matter how successful you are in every other part of your life, if you feel badly about yourself you cannot be completely happy. Loving your toenails isn't the same as loving the inside part that is truly broken. And I left the episode feeling like Oprah just didn't get it. She needs to schedule a therapy appointment not a manicure.

We've all got some issue...I haven't met someone yet with a perfectly healthy confident self esteem. Self sabotage is rampant. It's one thing to lose weight it is another to keep it off. It isn't that the process of dieting became harder it's because your inner voice, the part you had to overcome, comes out of hiding. It's always there in the background but when you are losing weight (and really getting the ball rolling) you have so many successes it's easy to mute out the message or believe you have finally proven it wrong. Once you're at maintence level the loss stops and you have to keep going without all the weekly slaps on the back. That's when the voice gets louder. Just one temptation makes sense... you've earned it... look how well you've done (that's the voice talking). And then you're on the path of self loathing one more time.

But it isn't all futile. I really like how Bob Greene kept saying "you never figure it out". That's just it. You're never cured. You have to always work to identify that negative internalization and figure out for yourself why it is there. Knowing doesn't make it go away though. It just makes it easier to tune out. It makes it so that when you give in to temptation you can acknowledge that you are doing it, not because you deserve the reward, but because you are giving into a self sabotage. And that knowledge starts to give you strength to reach for the real reward... and that is loving yourself (manicure or not).

Did You Cast Your Vote Today?

The Grocery Chronicles Continue

"Did you go to Greenlife [grocery store] and return the half & half (it was rotten)? Mrs F asks Mr F this afternoon.

"Yes." Mr F replies.

"Did you promptly buy yourself some jammers (jam filled biscuits)? Mrs F asks jokingly.

nervous laughter

"Did you?!!" Mrs F asks incredulously.

"Yes" Mr F mumbles out guiltily.

"I can't believe you!" Mrs F says with shock.

"You can't go shopping anymore when you're hungry" She concludes.

Looks Like Someone May Need A Service Dog

"Okay, you're going to go down the salad dressing aisle. You're looking for canola mayo." Mrs F says to Mr F over the phone.

[silence]

"Okay I see the mayo. Canola mayo?" Mr F asks.

"Yes, CANOLA mayo." Mrs F confirms.

"Okay, now you need to get the smoked salmon. You're going to head straight back to the end of the store." Mrs F instructs.

[silence]

"All the way back. There's a cooler with the pig products: bacon, ham. The smoked salmon is on the left side." Mrs F clarifies.

"I see trout. Smoked trout." Mr F says.

"No. Salmon. The wild salmon. It's hanging up." Mrs F says.

"Wild sockeye salmon?" Mr F asks.

"Yes, wild sockeye salmon." Mrs F says slowly.

"Okay now you're going to get the ground turkey. It's in the case across from the meat counter. It's in a package." Mrs F says.

"Turkey thighs?" Mr F asks.

"No. GROUND TURKEY." Mrs F clarifies.


You see how this is going.

That's just 3 items people.

This is how it is practically every time Mr F goes to the store. Typically fifteen minutes into the conversation I have to say something like..."I'm sorry I can't take this anymore. Just call me when you get to the checkout and we'll review."

The Polls Are Open

Is It Wrong...

That I'm secretly hoping that when Mr F goes downtown today to retrieve his car from the lot (where I parked it before the ice skating incident) he'll find it's been stolen?


That when Kid's school called today to offer doing a food tree for us my first thought was... "Cha Ching!" ? (My second thought was damn hippies... it'll probably all be tofu lasagna)


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Voting Is OPEN!!!

Not so subtle right?

Hired Help

"I hope you don't expect me to do this every day of my life." Kid mumbles as she loads the dryer.

Fat Butt

Well it turns out that if you don't move (at all) you need a lot less calories to maintain your weight. I've learned this the hard way... as I've been gaining EVERY single day since I broke my ass. It's not just the lack of workouts, I'm typically a pretty active gal throughout the day, so logic would tell you that I should be eating less now that I'm laid up. Unfortunately my biggest eating signal is boredom. And, well, I've been just a tad bored lately.

I know I shouldn't worry about my weight and should focus on recovery... but... that isn't going to happen. I tried that for the first week and I have to say it isn't helping my whole disposition to also feel out of control regarding my weight. I need to take some responsibility for the constant stream of gingerbread men that have been marching down my throat. I need to figure out exactly how much I can eat without gaining while lying on the couch all day. I fear it might be dramatically less than I'm used to.

Mr F just said "At least you should have the confidence that you can take off whatever you put on when you're better." Hmm... well I don't. Bodies change. I'm two years older. Our will power ebbs and flows. What if I'm never recovered enough to workout as hard as I used to? I don't want to lie around starving myself, but I don't want to make my situation any harder either. Gaining unnecessary weight isn't helping me heal... I'm just taking advantage of the situation to sabotage myself. And it's worked. I'm not just in pain, now I feel badly about myself for giving into stupid mindless eating, and I feel badly every morning when I have to stuff myself into my ever shrinking clothes.

I might not be able to lose this weight without exercise but I can certainly make an effort to stop gaining it. What else do I have to do? Twelve weeks in someone else's life might not seem like very long... but anyone who has seen me pregnant knows that twelve weeks for me while lying around in misery can result in a startling weight gain. Since I'm not walking away from this with a baby I'd kind of like to not look like I am either.

Bad Luck Comes In Threes

First our coffee maker broke on Christmas Eve.

Then I broke myself.

Then we went broke.

Back Up... I Need Back Up

I have some pretty complicated feelings when it comes to needing help:

1. I don't like to need it. 
2. I don't like to ask for it. 
3. I don't like to accept it.
   

Now over the years, and through lots and lots of therapy, I have tried to work on all of these points. Most especially #2 (and admittedly I still need some work on #3). When I found out I had actually broken my tailbone I immediately called my mother to let her know that there was the possibility that I might need help. Now most sane people who don't have issues asking for, and or accepting help, might have dropped the "might" part of that request. But I'm not that healthy and asking for help from my mother... from whom... and in response to hers and my father's feelings about help I developed these particular feelings... is complicated in it's own right.

My mother and I have opposing issues. I don't want to ask for help until it is completely unavoidable. My mother has a weird built in response that urges her (I will acknowledge that she doesn't mean it) to minimize the situation and not give in to all your needs. It's hard to explain. She wants to help but I think she has a natural inclination to protect herself from being taken advantage of. She's quick to give a "you're looking on the mend" seal of approval and leave only to duck out right before the 2nd round of hell begins.

You can see how this might be difficult. I need help but hate to ask for it. My mother wants to help but something in her keeps her from being fully helpful. Maybe you can see why I started to: #1 not want to need help, #2 not like to ask for it, and #3 not like to accept it.

Well, I don't have a lot of resources and the pain in the rear is not letting up. I've tried staying off of it completely but it's not improving and the thought of Monday morning and getting back into full days of childcare, errands, driving, meal preparation is terrifying. I just can't do it. And if I do do it I'm sure I'll be headed down a dangerous and painful path that will only make matters worse for all of us. So I called my Mom this morning and said I needed help.

I should say that we (my mother and I) have spent the last 2 years working on this dynamic together. Trying to understand where it comes from and trying to get through it. My mother is not a bad mother or a bad person. At the end of the day it isn't her fault either. It's part of being human. Resenting the people who need your help (whether you want to or not) is not that uncommon. Resenting the people who are helping you isn't that uncommon either. I should know... just ask Mr F... he's been known to feel the dark side of a *helpful*, and a *being helped*, Mrs F.

I try hard not to repeat this pattern. It's a curse not to be able to ask for help and admit you need it... and it is a curse not to be able to whole heartedly help when it's needed. I don't want my girls to grow up thinking that needing help is a weakness or that there is more personal value in being self sufficient.

Thankfully my girls have two parents. And unlike my parents who came from similar stock in the help department (I'm not anywhere near strong enough to ask my Dad to come help)... Mr F and I are polar opposites. He's one of the lucky ones who will happily serve me while I lay resting on the couch. And I say lucky because being the person to hold the resentment... and know you are doing it... and hate yourself for it... is the worst part of the whole dynamic. You want to be helpful, you want to want to be helpful, but something in you fights it every step of the way. If it was him on the couch instead of me... I'd serve him... grudgingly... and with death rays shooting from my eyes by day two.

So she's coming. She said she's happy to do it. I still feel guilty. And I'm going to try really hard to let her help without getting up to show her the *best* way to slice an apple. But that is a whole different issue... for a different day.

New Year's Resolutions

I Thank You In Advance

The word is out... I did make it as a 2008 Weblog Awards finalist!  Thank you for all your nominations.  Due to all the nominations this year they are running a bit behind and voting will begin on Monday.  Some of you may remember how this went last year... it is actually a very easy voting process.  I'll have a direct link on my blog... there is no need to register, or sign in, or anything.  You'll be able to vote once every 24 hours during voting.  And I will of course need ALL your votes EVERY day!  This year I am up for Best Diarist against Dooce... so I need to bring my A game ;)  It's not as hopeless as it sounds...  last year my votes would have won out this category so there is a chance!  But I will need everyone's help.  

I know awards might seem unnecessary but this one is a BIG deal.  It brings me a lot more recognition and potential for growth.  Not just during the voting season but all year long.  With all these medical bills piling up (guilt... guilt) we need however much more that can possibly be right now.  Outside of that very practical reason... it also helps bolster my fragile self esteem... and keeps me blogging when I'm not sure I have anything *interesting* left to say.  Plus, hey, I'm human and it just plain feels good to have some people out there thinking I'm good at this. 

It is especially rewarding to be up for the diarist category.  I know a lot of people out there might think of me as a "mommy blogger", or this as a "mom blog", but that isn't how I think of this (or myself for that matter). I'm just one woman trying to share my take on this little thing called life... I just so happen to have children.  Sure there might be more publicity to be had by lumping myself in with the parenting blogs but I'm especially honored not to be.  In writing about myself I found a way to restore that sense of self I felt I had lost when I first started my journey into parenting.  So it is a great feeling to be recognized as someone who is a good blogger and not have to have that quantified by my parenting status.  It means a lot and is something for which I am very proud... whether I win or not.

Voting should begin on the 5th.  Instead of groveling for your votes everyday I will do my best to entertain you and hope that you will repay me for that effort by clicking the link to the voting page at the end of the posts.  There will also be a special giveaway at the end of voting week to show you all my appreciation for working with me all week.  You must have voted every day to qualify for this giveaway (honor system) and I'll put up a post where you all can enter that drawing once the voting week has concluded.  

P.S.  Winning this award would also help me stick it to "The Man" (aka my in laws)... and prove that this is not some piddly pastime I created in order to publicly air our grievances.  And that's kind of important too...  

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Surprise Surprise

Well yesterday I was feeling a lot better. I was able to maneuver myself with very little pain. I was hopeful and optimistic. Which of course led to some bad decisions. I stopped taking the vicodin because it gave me crazy itchies that made me feel like I was headed straight for an episode of Intervention. I also decided that it would be a LOT easier if I just went grocery shopping... you know... I could use the cart like a walker.

Long story short I'm in bed for the day.

I told the doctor, yesterday, "I'm an antsy type... so you need to be VERY specific... can I actually make this worse?" Apparently yes. He told me to refrain from sitting as much as possible and just stand. That gets old. And once you're standing it's not too big of a leap to stand in front of the stove... making dinner... which leads to lifting pots and pans... and making grocery lists... and going to the grocery store. You get the picture.

Mr F is big on the feigned reprimands all the while moving out of the way and disappearing to another room to check email... not to be seen again. I can't blame him... but I can't blame myself for thinking that maybe the frozen foods should get put in the freezer... and so I did start unpacking the groceries.

Not being able to do things on my time table is the equivalent of Hell for me. If there is a Hell it is having to wait around while your ADD husband gets things *done* (or not) and having to just sit with it. It's enough to make you yell "Spine Be Damned!" and jump (or slowly roll yourself off the couch wincing... but whatever) and hobble into the kitchen to serve your children some actual vegetables.

The good news is that it doesn't look like I will need surgery. The bad news is that I'm in for a 2 -3 month recovery. The doctor said that while many people hobble in saying they broke their tailbone almost nobody actually does. I'm something of a medical marvel.

Back In Time

Little did we know what was in store for us...


Don't let my mobility and jovial disposition fool you, I am barely holding it together for Kid's benefit...

Pity

Mrs F looks at Mr F with caution and says...

"I know this is hard for you, but it's almost time to make lunch."

Mr F begins to laugh nervously.

The Downside (or at least the one that involves my vanity)

Remember when I said I wasn't going to let this derail me? Yeah well I lied. I got up this morning and dutifully weighed in and was horrified to discover I have gained another 2 pounds in 3 days.

I had kind of pictured myself at the end of my 6 week recovery with Linda Hamilton-esque arms and Kate Moss's atrophied back side. Instead it seems I'm turning into Jaba the Hut.

And while I confess that I did call Mr F around 4 pm yesterday and whisper into the phone "Boston Creme cupcake"... that's not even particularly unusual for me... and I didn't eat it all (although I did also have the white half of a black & white cookie..). The thing is I'm not eating more than I was, say, last week... or the week before that... less, really, I can assure you of that. And yet my weight has suddenly and menacingly spiked higher than it has in a year and a half.

So I'm finding the motivation to stick to a calorie limit, when my bottom side is obviously decided the only way to protect itself from sheer agony is to fatten itself up, hard to come by. In fact I think for the sake of my sanity I should just let this one go for now.

I blame the vicodin.

The Upside

Kid just did her first load of laundry.

It's Official

I broke my coccyx right where it joins the sacrum ...aka... I did indeed fracture my tailbone. Pretty badly. No little spidery fracture for me... oh no... I had to break that baby straight across. Awesome. They told me I might need surgery... I'll find out this week when I see the Orthopedist. Until then I've got some Vicodin... which should be kicking in anytime now (Thank God). Don't worry I've only got a good 6 week recovery ahead of me...

Laughing, Crying, And Sometimes Both

Thank God for Baby's potty seat:

This makes the difference between being paralyzed with pain and fear and being able to... well... use the facilities.


Oh, make no mistake, I'm in some kind of serious pain. It has not abated. Of course the very fact that it is my butt is hilarious and not lost on me even as I hobble around screaming. I haven't had this level of pain since the initial incision pain from my c-sections. And I don't have the serious meds they give out with those.

I spent the night in great sympathy for paraplegics as I had to maneuver myself in bed (and in and out of said bed) with only my upper body strength. While I'm furious that this would happen when I was finally ready to start back into some serious exercise... I guess the only upside there is to be had out of this is all the unintentional strength training. That and the fact that I don't have to change any diapers.

I am not letting this derail me though, people. It would be easy to do... since I can't workout, I can't prepare food, and well Mr F is challenged in that last department. I'm also craving soda like never before. But I'm not going to give in. I'm still weighing myself every morning and counting my calories. I might not be able to workout to burn any of those off but I can control what I put in. That's pretty much all I can control right now.