Fat Jeans

I recently bought a pair of designer jeans that don't fit. Why you ask? Because I'm going to lose weight. Hello? I'd rather suffocate and squeeze into breath-stealing shapewear than pull out the fat jeans. Fashion not function. I find inner comfort being outwardly uncomfortable. Spanx you very much. A night out in new jeans will be fabulous if I look fabulous. For an hour. Then, I'll fantasize about going home, ripping my clothes off and eating copious amounts of chocolate in my ugly nightgown. Pete is a lucky guy! It's a viscous, vicious cycle.

Feeling fat is relative. It's a feeling. Not a truth. Some people feel fat if the scale doesn't reveal a number in their acceptable range. Fat is a bad word in our house. No one is allowed to say it. I am a bigger girl. I have a larger frame than most. But please refrain from calling a girl "big- boned"or you'll get punched in the face. Hard. 

I'm tall and am usually surrounded by short, petite friends. I look like an Amazon woman from the moon standing next to them. It's embarrassing. Tell 'em Large Marge sent ya. I wish I had tiny wrists and cute feet. My feet look like my brother's feet with a pedicure. 

My short friends tell me they wish they were taller. What's up with that? Why do we always want the opposite of what we have?  If we have curly hair, we iron the crap out of it to make it straight. If we have straight hair, we scorch it with a hot curling iron. It's what we do. I got my nails painted red. Wish I got French.

Here's the thing; I'm catching on to my crazy. No matter what I do - I can't win. My crazy will always look for something to obsess over. If I lose 10 pounds I will inevitably notice wrinkles on my forehead. If I lose 10 pounds and get rid of the wrinkles on my forehead, all of a sudden I have big ears. Since when? Dumbo. 

How insane is this? I want to celebrate and embrace who I am - right now at this very moment. God created us all exactly as we are to carry out our unique purposes. 
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made…" (Psalm 139:14)
If we love ourselves as God loves us, we will want to take care of ourselves by eating right and exercising.

I must accept that God didn't create me to be a size 4. I am big-boned. I am big-boned! I hereby declare I will no longer squeeze into items that don't fit. I am going to rock my inner Joan. Spanx for nothing!

To Catch A Thief

I am the complete opposite of my mother. My mother is the complete opposite of her mother. My mother's mother was a microwave meal cooker, recliner chair over-user and a hoarder. Like a real hoarder. My mother on the other hand, could be Martha Stewart's long lost sister. She is a culinary genius, master gardener, pro-knitter, avid reader, overly organized…. the list goes on. I however, don't cook, am a plant killer, a knitter quitter, never finished an entire book, am unorganized and have hoarding tendencies.

I have been a hot mess inwardly and outwardly since I can remember. Still am. I'll never forget the first time my mess was exposed to the world. It was many years ago, back when I lived with my second roommate. My first roommate had a raging anger problem. She hit my bedroom door with a baseball bat once and left a huge hole. She didn't think it was funny that I thought it was funny. She moved out. My second non-violent and loving roommate moved in right away.

So, me and my second roommate freaked out one night because we heard someone in the house. We ran outside screaming. The police showed up almost immediately. We made quite the scene in our neighborhood. There's a robber on the loose! Lock your doors people!

We held our breath as we waited for them to apprehend the criminal. Someone's going to jail tonight! The officers approached us a few minutes later with little fanfare. There was no prisoner, just an announcement; "Looks like whoever was here is gone. Doesn't seem like anything was stolen but they did ransack the master bedroom. It's all tore up." My stomach sank. That's my room! I dramatically raced back inside to survey the damage. I stood in the center of my room confused. Hm mmm. It was exactly the way I left it. True story.

Oh the messes I've made! I don't claim to have it all together nor do I strive to appear as such. I still clean my house like a madwoman before someone comes over. Luckily, we don't have to "clean up" before we let God in. Jesus likes messy. Messy shows Him we need Him.
"Some of us actually believe that until we choose the correct way to live, we aren’t choosable, that until we clean up the mess, Jesus won’t have anything to do with us. The opposite is true. Until we admit we’re a mess,  Jesus won’t have anything to do with us.”    - Messy Spirituality by Michael Yaconelli
Only God can turn our mess into a message. So, if your house doesn't always look like the cover of Southern Living rest assured, you're not alone. God bless the mess! Amen. And praise whoever made the Swiffer

We're moving! Again.

I think this will be the 9th move in our 13 years of marriage. For whatever reason, we move approximately every 18.5 months. Usually right after we say we'll never move again and BUY a house to prove it.

The last time we moved, we decided to rent. My husband was in charge of finding us a "cottage" on the water. "Nothing fancy," I said. "Just charming." Visions of us holding hands and frolicking through the water ran through my mind. This is going to be great!

When we pulled up to the house I thought it was a joke. It wasn't. Nestled between two beautiful homes was the most disgusting dump I have ever seen. I was devastatingly disappointed.  All I could think to do was lie in bed and sleep it off. But I couldn't because I DIDN'T HAVE A BED! Apparently, our mattress was the only item that didn't fit in the moving truck. "It's going to be okay. We have a blow up bed," said my husband as I imaginarily punched him in the face. Seriously? I hyperventilated and cried for 3 days straight.

I got over it and tried to focus on the good and have a thankful heart. We are on the water! As I walked out on the dock I expected to see blue water. I didn't. It was brown, brackish toilet-wateresque looking water. There would be no swimming. No frolicking. Just a minor to moderate risk of contracting a disease from the sewage backup.

Fine, so the water is brown. Big deal. I saw a few brave souls splashing around. How bad could it be? Bad enough to get stung to death by the bizarre infestation of "nettles" aka jellyfish. Swarms of them. Never seen so many in all my life. Bella was petrified.

We can get a boat! Oh wait, we can't afford a boat. I"ll just sit on the dock and watch the boats go by and feel sorry for myself. I'll wave hello to all those dream stealing water skiers. No, I will not! I had to think of a plan. Luckily, really does ship everything for a $1. There was an enormous green canoe with a removable third seat and built in cooler on my front doorstep the very next morning.

I dragged that canoe to the water all by myself. Sure, it was fun for awhile. But all that paddling was exhausting. I needed something more relaxing and within the budget, so I went to Kmart and bought a plastic raft. Oh yes I did. My husband refused to join me with his thoughtfully chosen matching raft. Hater.

I had to throw my raft away after it got a hole in it. This time I was going to find something relaxing and motorized whilst staying within the budget. So I bought an antiquated jet ski from Craigslist. It  stalled, sputtered and backfired until I ran out of gas.

I ended up falling in love with the area, the people and everything in between. But it's been 18.5 months. We're moving again. So, here I sit, typing away on a blow up bed. I'm not sure why God wants us to move so much. I must trust His plan. I just hope it includes a new bed.
"Unless the LORD builds the house, its builders labor in vain." (Psalm 127: 1)