cripsy13

Musings, mutterings from the misguided.


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Ah yes.  The inundation of Valentine’s Day is upon us once again.

The ads for jewelry, chocolates, flowers and yes, lingerie – has taken over.  Happy, shiny people looking upon each other with love and awe.  Big, tear filled eyes light up when they see the token diamond ring being presented to them.  Awwwwwwwwwwww?  Isn’t love GRAND?  Everyone on social media expressing their undying love for their partners…gag.

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Okay.  I’m gonna stop right here and say…I hate Valentine’s Day.  Sour grapes?  Maybe a bit.

As a kid, everyone at school had the little construction paper envelopes made up so that they could receive Valentine’s Day cards from their classmates.  How exciting it was to watch someone plunk one in your envelope!  Wait – who was that kid?  Are we in the same class?  Huh.  Then you’d go home and covet them, singling the one out from the cutest boy in Grade 3 (which, you knew was only because his mom made him make them out to EVERYONE in the class).  Remember this?

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Yeah, poor Ralphie.  Lisa broke his little booger filled heart.  It was the best of intentions for her to give him a card – nobody else would.  Broken hearts and promises at the ripe old age of Grade 2.

Junior High – the introduction of Harlequin Romances and heaving bosoms and throbbing manhoods.  Girl meets boy (girl is usually blonde, blue eyed with perfect measurements; boy is tall, handsome, rich and a CEO of some giant corporation and had a sexy name like Rock or Thorne – there were no Bobs or Mikes in HR) and they would fall madly in love, have 2.5 kids and live in a house with a white picket fence.  Ah…how romantic!  I couldn’t wait for that to happen to ME!

(INSERT THE SCRATCH OF A NEEDLE ON AN ALBUM HERE – young people, look up ‘music album’ on Google)

My very first real boyfriend ever was in Grade 10.  I thought it was going to last forever…well, it did until he dumped me for the school tramp.  But that’s not in the Harlequin Romances!  WTF?

My 20’s didn’t fare much better…met and fell in head over heels love with someone, only to find out (eventually) that he was engaged and dating several other women at the time.  And then there was the guy who was married (that I DID NOT KNOW ABOUT) as he had a cell phone (this was back in the early 90’s when they looked like the shoe phone from Maxwell Smart (young people – look up ‘Maxwell Smart shoe phone on Google) and was always at my place).  Then there was my ex brother in law’s brother (got that?) whom I was dating for a while – I went away for a couple of days to visit a friend and came back and found out he’d been sleeping with my roommate (that ended with me actually punching him the face and breaking my thumb).  That was ALSO not in the romance novels.  How about the guy I’d started seeing at work who failed to tell me he had Hepatitis B and that I only found out because the nice lady in Human Resources at the time, broke the confidentiality clause to tell me about it?  And wasn’t that fun having to get shots and praying to the universe that I never started to exhibit signs of having it (thankfully – nothing so far).  That was certainly NOT in any romance novel I’ve ever read.

So, I have to say:  ROMANCE?  WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?  The only thing I’ve ever received from a guy on Valentine’s Day was a card that said “Happy VD” on it.  Flowers?  BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Jewelry?  BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Chocolate?  BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I’d put myself out there, only to get knocked down again, so at the ripe old age of about 40, I said SCREW IT!  I’ve got a good life, great job, roof over my head, amazing friends – what more could I possibly need?  (Okay, well the occasional night out would be nice, but meh – I have Netflix).

So yes, I’m a bit of a curmudgeon when it comes to Valentine’s Day and all its’ promises of love and romance.  Me?  You’ll find me curled up on the couch with a glass of wine, with my birds singing their little hearts out, as I watch a cheesy horror movie.  But hey, feel free to slip me a Valentine’s Day card in the construction paper envelope I have hanging on my door 🙂


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It’s been an interesting week on my new ‘less self indulgence’ lifestyle plan.

I’ve been keeping a written journal of what I eat, what I drink – and what I spend.  At the very least, an eye opener.  Yikes.

I met with one of the leading experts in obesity in the country last week – he was amazing.  If you’ve been following my blog, I’ve been involved with a local “Weight Wise” program, which is geared towards those who are considered obese or morbidly obese.  I’ve met with a psychiatrist, a nutritionist, a nurse and now the doctor.  The whole premise behind this program is to find out if I am a candidate for lap band surgery.  I have to go through a whole series of hoops and jumps before they will even consider it.  The best part of this whole experience is finally having someone understand that it’s not all ‘eat less, exercise more’.  This program is more than that.

He asked some questions that I really never considered a part of being overweight, but afterwards I realized – wow, those questions made complete sense.  He asked me if I had been promiscuous at any point in time in my life, and I will admit – I did go through a phase (of which I’m not particularly proud of) in my early 20’s.  I realize now that I wanted love – and I had confused sex with love (wouldn’t it be nice if we could figure that shit out WHEN we’re doing it?)  He asked me about my relationships with my parents and my sister, friendships…etc.  He asked me if I had a tendency to binge eat (which thankfully, I do not) and if I used alcohol as a ‘crutch’ (oh yes), did I overspend beyond my means (sigh, uh – YEAH) and a few other questions.  The questions he was asking had very little to do with my size or my weight, they were more geared towards my thought patterns and my personality, which can be defined in one word:  ADDICTIVE.  I was addicted with trying to find love, I was addicted to instant gratification and I was addicted to alcohol.  2 out of these 3 things were easily obtained by overspending (yet, another addiction).

Now, this is interesting.  There was an article in the paper this morning – “Weight loss plan can curb spending” (Postmedia news).  There was a line in there that jumped out at me:  “While the authors say not everyone who struggles with weight also has money problems, [Demetre] estimates over 50% of the population has issues with both.”   Wow.  I’d never thought to put the two together per se, but it makes sense.

We live in a society of instant gratification.  We want what we want, and we want it NOW.  We don’t budget for things like our parents did, we put it on credit.  We don’t scrimp and save our pennies, we just buy it and worry about it later.  We don’t do without – we all ‘need’ the new TV, the new iPhone, the new tablet, the new…(insert vice in here).  When I want to eat something, I want it NOW.  I don’t mean binge eating – I just mean regular, day-to-day living.  If I want sushi for lunch, I’ll got and get it ($15.00).  Then, if I want steak for dinner, I’ll go and get it ($15.00) and maybe a few more groceries that I really don’t need, but want ($25.00).  I’ve just spend $55.00 on things I don’t necessarily NEED.  Repeat that every day for about 5 days.  That’s $275.00 just on FOOD related items that I probably only need about $30.00 of.  Let’s add some wine on top of that ($60.00/week) and maybe a shirt or pair of shoes ($100.00) and I’m up to $435.00  For one week.

Great – so now I’m fat AND in debt.  But I can see how it goes hand in hand.  I eat and overspend to compensate for the things that I don’t have, which in turn creates more problems and gets me farther away from where I DO want to be.  It’s a vicious circle and I’m doing everything I can to get off the giant hamster wheel and back on solid ground.  Because the things that I want most – to be happy, healthy, a normal body weight – and to buy my own home – are things that only I CAN do myself.  It won’t happen right this very minute, but with some time and patience, I think I have a pretty good chance.

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Like they say, good things come to those who ‘weight’.  🙂


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I tried to get it back

I couldn’t find it

it was gone.

I kept looking

drinking

eating

crying

but it was gone.

I kept hoping

dreaming

praying

begging

but it was gone.

I kept living

sadly

badly

melancholy days and nights

fed the deep, dark recesses

numbness

I tried to get it back,

but it was gone.

in its place

love

hope

beauty

desire

I tried to get it back

but I realized

it had never left me.

 


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On a typical day, I get up, feed the birds, brush my teeth, make myself look relatively presentable and head to work.

I work in a job where I am ‘on’ from the minute I get there until the minute I walk out the door.  I work with some very high level people and part of my job is to schmooze and make nice-nice with the people that come in.  We host meetings, special events, medal ceremonies – you name it, we’ve done it.  And, I can say with great confidence that I SHINE in most of these situations.  You would never know in a million years, that underneath the professional, witty and hysterically funny woman, is a little girl who is just wanting to be liked.

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The silly thing is that people DO like me (insert Stuart Smalley reference here).  I think I’m a pretty good person, I have some really wonderful friends and would give you the shirt off my back if you needed it.  I’ve an acerbic wit that has gotten me in trouble more than a few times, I will bend over backwards to help you – I will even let you share my bag of Doritos (that’s the biggest honour I can bestow upon you).

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So, you would think that I would have all the confidence in the world – that I could leap tall buildings in a single bound, take on a bully, stand up against injustice (thank GOD for news websites that I can rant on) – even show others how to be a confident woman in this world.

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Sadly, I do not.  Have self confidence that is.  Okay, in *some* instances I do, and I get a real charge of positive energy when I am up in front of others, talking about something I’m passionate about.

But it can just take one comment, in one wrong moment to make me want to crawl up into a ball and wait for it to go away.  It’s as easy as someone ignoring me or not answering my email or phone message.  I revert back to the little girl, who never really got any positive reinforcement as a child, but the negative comments came fast and furious.

As that kid, I was trained to be my mother’s slave.  If I disappointed her, I was punished with silence and harsh, abrupt words.  To a little kid, it was pretty confusing, after all – I was trying to do what she wanted me to do, but it was just never right.  I didn’t clean the bathroom properly.  I didn’t wash the ashtrays (yeah, okay, I SO wasn’t going to do that anyhow).  I didn’t make her bed properly.  I didn’t remember to take out the garbage.  The list goes on.  So, as a grown adult, when I feel that I’ve disappointed someone in some way, I go out of my way to make amends.  Now, there is a little voice in my head that says ‘SHUTUP, DON’T MAKE IT WORSE, IT WILL BLOW OVER.”  But I’m also not very good listening to myself, so I ignore it and go ahead and indeed, make things worse.

And, this week – it did just that.  I had called in sick to work because I was having a horrible fibromyalgia pain day – I could barely move.  Now, I’m one of those people that will go to work even if I’m bleeding from an eyeball with pneumonia.  I feel guilty and even while I’m lying there wishing for death, I feel the need to connect with my work place so they know I’m not in Mexico drinking tequila out of some pool boys’ bellybutton.  But they don’t think that.  They think ‘hey, she’s sick, carry on.’

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So, basically I made a bad judgment call on Friday and wound up – what was perceived to be as ‘pestering’ my boss.  He was annoyed, I was freaked out because of his slight and fretted about it all weekend.

I should back pedal a bit by explaining that earlier this year, I needed to take a stress leave.  When I came back, he bent over backwards to accommodate me and our working relationship has grown in leaps and bounds (there are really only two of us in our office).  For the most part, we get along very well.

It’s been a couple of days and things aren’t much better and I’ve apologized for my end of things, which is all I can do.  My insecurities reared their ugly head and now I’m suffering the consequences.

A friend of mine told me today that I’m a very sensitive person and I should learn to not take things so personally – this was said with love, because I know this friend will always have my back.

She’s 100% right.  I need to let the guilty feelings that I grew up with go.  Let the insecurities I have about not being good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, thin enough, fit enough, funny enough – go.  My mother might have been the best travel agent for guilt trips, but she’s gone now, and I think I’ll make my own travel arrangements from now on.