Joyful all Ye Nations.

(Anyone else feeling like this lately? No? Just me then? 2016 has blown goats.)

On Christmas night we all gathered together for a post-Christmas-yay-it’s over let’s eat party at Mama Joye’s. After stuffing our faces with all the holiday sweets my mom in an effort to keep every one’s phones in their pants asked us to gather around campfire style and talk about their strongest Christmas memory.

My first thought was shit. My second thought was if I hide out in the bathroom would anyone notice?

Listening to everyone’s strongest memory it was my turn. This is what I said/wrote:

“The Christmas in which I remember most was Christmas 2013. It was the last Christmas that Emily was able to come home she was pregnant with Thea, everyone was home and it was the last Christmas we had Grandma before we lost her a month later.”

As I sat up late Christmas night I realized would I have done anything different if I had known that was my last* Christmas? (*When I say last I mean the last Christmas of my childhood.)

Which makes me wonder am I prepared for things to be my last? I’m in good health and I’m relatively young but life changes in the ordinary instant. Which means I’m building up the memories of my last.

First off. My last meal. Realistically my last meal will be one that I’m too sick to eat/and/or be one that I will throw up. So I have decided that my last meal so to speak will be all the family dinners, the wonderful meals eaten in cities which none of friends live, and tasting things for the first time.

After having that morbid thought I thought to myself what are the things I most enjoy in life? What are sixteen things I can look forward to next year?

Here’s my list:

11.My family.

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22. Spontaneous trips to cities I’ve never been.

33. Driving over the bridge to the house in Sun Valley in Fall and seeing the trees lit up in the various hues of red, gold and amber.

44. Spring. Mainly that magical moment when it is finally warm enough to open your windows and air out all the despair and stale air of winter. Also after finishing your spring cleaning and reading a new book and smelling spring come.

55. A bottle of regular coke and floating in the pool in Summer reading People magazine.

66. Eating dinner with friends in cities we don’t live and probably will never be in again.

77. Fresh clean sheets. Oh is there nothing more delicious than when you finally are able to get all comfortable in your bed after a long day of cleaning and enjoying a freshly made bed that’s your own?

88. Taking a bath with a really good story.

89. Sitting on the beach in the late afternoon in Maui under an umbrella and watching the sun play on the ocean.

110.         My grandpa’s stories.**blogpost coming soon on where I learned the art of story**.

111.         Flying in a double or single prop plane and looking out over the mountains, people, and that sense of being in the middle between sky and earth. It’s a rare feeling and it’s hard to describe.

112.         Thanksgiving dinner.

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113.         Ice cream.

114.         Rain.

115.         The quiet hush of the first real snow fall. Walking out late at night when no one is around, traffic is quiet and listening to that peaceful quiet. The rare quiet of nature. No phones, no dings, no loud music, just absolute and peaceful quiet.

116.         Laughter.

What are your sixteen things you look forward to? Or sixteen things that have been positive in this last year? 

Winter 1

“How much can a heart and a troubled mind take?
       Where is that fine line before it all breaks?”

              -Dolly Parton 

I hate winter.

I’ve tried making peace with it. Yet as I’m writing this I can’t feel my toes, which for a fat person causes a great amount of panic because you start worrying that the diabetus has finally appeared.

Winter is my least favorite season because everything dies. All color gets sucked out and for us Utahans the inversion hits and it becomes nothing but grey.

I’ve been feeling a little disconnected and frustrated so I went out for a walk in the mountains to reconnect. I had my I-pod on shuffle as one does and Max Richter’s Recomposed Vivaldi’s Four Season Spring 0 and One came on. I relate to this album because on how it came about. From an interview with Classic FM

How did the idea for the piece come about?

When I was a young child I fell in love with Vivaldi's original, but over the years, hearing it principally in shopping centres, advertising jingles, on telephone hold systems and similar places, I stopped being able to hear it as music; it had become an irritant - much to my dismay! So I set out to try to find a new way to engage with this wonderful material, by writing through it anew - similarly to how scribes once illuminated manuscripts - and thus rediscovering it for myself. I deliberately didn't want to give it a modernist imprint but to remain in sympathy and in keeping with Vivaldi's own musical language.

How does this relate to winter? Because I’m choosing to look at it a new perspective. 2016 was the year that I started laying the ground work for change. If I had known that I would be spending so much money on self-help books in my thirties I would have joined Amazon prime years ago.

I am tired of spinning the story of how damaged I am and what I want, what I’m not getting, why certain situations are impossible, what I wish would happen, why it’s too late etc..and I usually end with I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!

Which why this winter as I was starting my usual story of damage this voice yelled at me from deep within me.START KNOWING.

Start knowing? Start knowing what? So I wrote it down in my journal. I gave the sentence a voice. What it said to me was: Look stop pretending you don’t know what to do. You’ve read so many self-help books, attended classes and exhausted your friends with the same boring sob story. Either you really want to change or you want to martyr to your story of I can’t but you know what to do. Start knowing! 

As Max said when he had stopped hearing the music and found it as irritation so have I become with wanting to change my life. What I wanted and what I was doing were two different things. With all the self help books I've read this last year I've noticed a trend that most people have the solution within themselves but are too afraid or have become attached to the feeling of they can't to move forward. I want to move forward.Cause I'm tired of martyring.  It's boring and people tend to give me odd looks at parties. 

So 2017's theme is to Start Knowing. This winter is going to give way to a beautiful spring. Both outside and physically. 

I'd Like To Be You For A Day

 “And the Moon’s never seen me before..

          But I’m reflecting light.”

                        -Sam Philips

I’ve been absent from social media. (**This is not one of those self-righteous posts where I bemoan social media and then go on a major liking cat pictures on Facebook spree and clog up your wall post. **) I’ve had to go in hiding because A. So much ranting. B. So much Trump. Oh gosh. So much Trump. C. I couldn’t take another round of I’m thankful for post.

I needed a moment to reflect on myself and see myself truthfully without a shiny Instagram filter to project a false sense of togetherness. By togetherness I mean that my life is together and that I had answers.

Cause in reality I’m a big broken mess. But so are you. So is everyone. Even Oprah. Heck I’m sure that when Martha Stewart was knitting ponchos in a federal prison felt a little low. It’s that lowness that messiness that proves the proof of our creation. The only absolute truth I know right now is that I’m child of God. I’m flawed. I’m imperfect. Yet I know I made of the same matter that made stars, mountains, trees, and water. The foundation of life. This is the label that I’m choosing to define me only. Earlier this year I was drowning in a mass of who am I? What am I? How am I doing? And where am I going?

To find my answer I sat down at two thirty in the morning and wrote out all the labels I had thought of and labels that had been applied to me on note cards. Just simple words. Brother, son, fat, angry, tired, hard worker etc. I dug deep. At the end of this activity I took all 400 cards and I laid them in a spiral with me in the middle. Standing up and looking at all these cards I found myself drowning in ideas, misconceptions and outdated ideas. After looking at all of them the only one that glowed that made me feel at peace was I’m a child of God.

Why just this label? Cause it’s the label I was born into when I came into this life and it is the label I will carry with me on the way out.  

I’ve wasted so much time judging myself, comparing myself to others, worrying about what I was doing where the world is going etc. I felt as if I had been baptized again. Wiped clean.

There have been four different endings to this post. Each one sounding more and more self-righteous. Here’s the best way I can sum this up. Clean out your labels, find one that resonates with you and start fresh. Oh and #lightoftheworld.

F-A-I-L-U-R-E or we aren't doing that here.

The biggest complaint I’ve heard since I’ve started this journey and in my current job (I now schedule for registered dietitian’s) is this sentence I know I should do this BUT… insert I’m so busy with work, my family needs me, I just love eating ice cream, or the one that broke my heart I’ve started so many times I don’t know if I could handle another failure.

What is it about the fear of failure that stops us from progressing forward? In this day and age of social connection we do not launch any journey without this fear that we are going to fail. Look I’m not a fan of failure at all. It’s painful and it’s awkward. In Sunday school*(*I promise I’m usually quite good in Church. I have my own quiet book and I share my goldfish crackers and I don’t kick the pew in front of me.) our teacher told us that we weren’t failures but rather they were lessons from us to learn from. Which I raised my hand and asked but what about the “lessons” that scare us from moving forward? The look on everyone’s face was OH. We aren’t doing that here.

Yet isn’t it time to acknowledge that failure is what propels us forward? I have failed so many times when I get on the scale. I have failed when I have to buy a bigger size of pants, I have failed when I eat two pints of ice cream to deal with emotional situations instead of talking about it. One day in a major shame spiral I called my therapist and said I can’t fail at this whole life thing anymore I can’t fail one more time. Which there was a HMMM pause. Then this ground breaking sentence.

“The worst thing in your life has already happened.”

Woosh went the ground beneath my ideas about failure. If I had already experienced the worst thing in my life then in theory I had already experienced my worst failure, my worst heart break. Which then raised the question of why do we allow ourselves to be haunted by past mistakes? Ask anyone about the things they are good at and you will get maybe three things. Ask someone about the things they fail at and the list will be four pages long.

The truth is our failures is that they make us feel comfortable. If stay fat then I don’t have to deal with the reality that it isn’t my weight that holding me back but rather it’s myself. It keeps me in line with everyone else. Failure and shame keeps us in line with everyone else. You failed so you have to stay here.

While I dwell on my failures and fear of doing anything I feel that my best self is just hanging out sitting in the corner buffing his nails going are we going to get work yet? Which raises the question. If I am so comfortable with failure how do I feel about success?

I’ve been so afraid of what the answer is.

All I know is that I’m open to giving myself a second chance. That when I fail I’m going to keep going. Failure is not how I define myself anymore.

And yes. We are doing that here. 

Sugar, Butter, Flour

I have a confession.

I love waffles and pancakes. I mean seriously life is too short not to enjoy this wonderful carb creation.

I mean how could you say no to this?

Well if you were celiac or suffered serious gluten issues then I would understand why you would say no. 

Which leads me to the crazy that is me. Last night I dreamed I was singing this song AKA like Sandy in Grease. I even was walking around the kiddy pool Here’s the lyrics or well the best I could remember them.

I’m hopelessly devoted to you.

A Dedication to Waffles.

This isn’t the first, you aren’t the first I’ve eaten all of. There’s just no getting over you. I know I’m just a fool who is willing and save his money for you… Baby can’t you see I’m hopelessly devoted to you.

But now there’s nowhere to hide you make my pants wide. I’m so out of my head and my trainer is going to make me cry. My heart is saying don’t let go.

Hopelessly devoted to you.

Xo,

Blake 

Wait For It.

Three days ago I was standing at my mailbox getting my mail (the coupon mailer, and the annoying letter from my internet company encouraging me to get cable. Nice try Comcast but I already spend more time on my couch.) and then there was a nice envelope. My first thought reaction was oh goody. Another wedding/we’ve reproduced announcement. Instead it was from alma matter.

          Dear Alumnus Blake,

          As a former Aggie we invite you to contribute…

As an English major it’s cute that they thought I would have money to donate to them. Included in the letter was the annual Alumni newsletter showing what my classmates were up to. Some were off building orphanages in Africa ,one was creating Apps, and then there's was me whose biggest success today was bending over and tying his shoes and not ripping his pants.

Before I could help it I felt that huge wave of shame and embarrassment and oddly I felt fat. As if my size was in same correlation in what I’ve done with my life post college. Then I remembered DNS. Did Not Start.

I’m fascinated by this idea in this culture that you aren’t allowed to change, create, or do something till you are good at it. I’ve been paralyzed by this concept when it comes to losing weight. I’ve taken tons of classes, done tons of research, I’ve spent more money (*money I could have donated to my Alma matter. Yeah let’s be honest it would have been spent on ice cream.) than I have buying objects that will make me good. In the last seven years I’ve seen more people declare I’m going to lose this weight. I’m going to finally start my novel, I’m going to finally learn to cook etc.

The problem is that most people and myself included is we actually start becoming good or even great at our goals and then we quit. It seems I always quit when I have to defend or explain why I’m doing this blog. It’s easier to be the one that goes with the crowd. I’m a great creator but a terrible lawyer.

So I’ve stopped trying to explain or defend what I’m doing. If I’m eating great really staying within my macros but one day I say life is too short not to eat Chick Fil La chicken nuggets (yes, the grilled ones are amazing but they don’t come with waffle fries) I’m going to eat the nuggets and not defend myself nor am I allowing myself to feel guilt over it. My job is not to defend my creations. My job is to create and work on myself.

I’m not wasting anymore time not creating my best life by looking at the lives of others. I’ve been to a lot of funerals within the last few years and the things that stays, the things that resonates about you is not what bought, or looked like but how you made people feel.

Ugh. I’m sorry. I know this is very Oprah-esque. Tomorrow's post is my ode to waffles so there's balance. 

So I wrote a letter back to the Alumni magazine (I didn’t send it)

          Dear Alumni magazine,

          Thank you for reminding me that I’m seriously lacking in the success department. So I wanted to let you know that you aren’t that special. None of us are. So that’s why you aren’t getting a check from me.

Sincerely,

Blake

October. The land of Pumpkin Spice Lattes and Ugg Boots.

How you do you celebrate the fall?

I love fall. Like write send the whole I heart you text, stand in front of the lockers making out with each other, will you go steady with me kind of way. Fall is one of those tricky seasons like spring. It never just shows up rather it teases us with the leave subtly changing, the weather slowly drops, and in my neck of the woods tornadoes. There are things that everyone looks forward to. For some it’s hunting season (which for me growing up meant the sudden appearance of dead animals in the freezer and playing find the BB in game meat.) others its Halloween, and for basic white girls pumpkin spice lattes, leggings, and Ugg boots. For me it is the return of the Costco Chicken Noodle soup.

I know. Soup? Really? However I believe this soup has healing properties. I was introduced to the chicken noodle soup when I had pneumonia and I got in a care package. Which I’m still embarrassed about because my apartment was a disaster and had to expose it to the world. Anyway back to the soup. It was the only thing that I could eat. I had no energy to cook let alone go to the store. Since I don’t live in a city where you can order things twenty-four seven so hence the soup. It’s magical for the fact that it’s not like regular chicken noodle. The noodles are thick and homemade, the chicken is actual rotisserie thick and juicy not that weird stewed meat that makes me think of the cannery. The veggies are realistic not that weird freeze dried stuff that you wonder is this real or was this just created in a lab?

Which was why I was so excited to receive it a few days ago when Mr. Migraine and his sidekick Super Nausea hit. After they left it left me drained, tired, and feeling like I went rolling in the deep in my stomach. Thank goodness for Moms and their Costco memberships. One coke and bowl later I knew I was going to make it.

I knew it in that moment that Fall was here. Last year this time of year I fell off the cliff and hit three hundred and three pounds. Yes. That’s right. I finally had enough weight to be on the biggest loser and none of my clothes fit. For three months I lived in my LuluLemon pants and my draw string pants. Even though the last few days have been a roller coaster as far as my dates with the gym and food choices have been a little more lax but this fall I’m actually going in with a plan that’s working. Also I’m not three hundred pounds I’m 269.

Bring on the pumpkin spice.

Stuck in the Middle with You.

Why do we gloss over the middle of the story?

I have a guilty pleasure that I’m quite fond of. Whenever there is a weight loss story or before and after pictures I find myself clicking or stopping in the magazine aisle to read them. I’ve become somewhat of an expert on them. However, after reading my 500^th* (?) *I’m not really sure how many I read but I needed a number) dramatic weight loss inspirational story on Yahoo I began noticing a trend.

Each would start out with the realization they needed to change, followed by a terrible picture of them looking sad and fat, (I call this the AH-A!) the I’m going to do it sentence or driving factor (My mom died of Diabetes, I want to go play with my kids, or my favorite I just wanted to see my toes again) the research phase and then followed by the I just started (I went for a walk etc.) to do something. The next paragraph is the plan (I stopped eating carbs! I joined weight watchers etc.) followed by a simple statement (It was so hard but I stuck with it) and then the TA-DA I can fit into my pants happy smile picture. The End.

While I love these stories I wanted to know more about the middle of the story. Why was it so hard? What did you do to gain more discipline in changing your habits or how did you redeem yourself when you ate the two pieces of peach pie with whipping cream? (Asking for a friend) The reason I want to know is it seems that the middle of the weight loss story is where the magic happens. It’s where the main character realizes that they can do hard things and solider on however they never seem to share it with the rest of us. Is it some secret club that you have to join? If so who do I have to bribe to get in the door?

The true reason this bothers me is that I am now in the middle of my own story. I can tell you the beginning and I can tell you what I want the ending to be but this middle business, the work business is what is driving me crazy. The frustrating part is that I find myself wanting to slip back into my old habits and fat pants.  My poor trainer has had to deal with random middle of the night texts of questions such as Who wins in the weight vs. Fat battle. (FYI it’s Fat. Weight has too many variables. Kinda like that crazy girlfriend you had in high school that you could never quite guess her mood.)  Which now comes down to the real question of my annoyance. The glow of something shiny has worn off and the end point is still far away. Do I still want to continue? Or just say that this was a glorious experiment but I love to have diabetes more?

What I have been doing lately is thinking of all the times I’ve run races and looked at the time sheets. When I find my name at the bottom (Yay for being a U) I see the words DNF. Did not finish. I’ve often wondered what the reasoning was. Were they unable to get time off work? Injury? Family situation? Or did the simply choose not to start?  So on my ever growing post it board I wrote DNS. Did not start. On this day when I feel stuck in the middle I have to tell myself at least I’ve started. I’m still trying to finish. It may take a year. It may take two years but I’m going to finish this damn race. And when I do I’ll make sure I include the middle of the story.

Let’s help each other finish shall we? 

I Wanna Take Your Picture Cause I Won't Remember.

Am I social media addict?

Last week as I was leaving the grocery store I was pushing my cart back into the return when I saw a flyer shoved into the bottom of my cart. In big graphic word art form, it shouted to me Are you an addict?

At first I was rather offended. What I did on the couch with my pints of ice cream was my own personal business. After I cracked myself up laughing I noticed in very small italics the rest of the sentence to porn.

After throwing the brochure into the garbage I began asking myself was I an addict? If so what were my addictions? If I was addicted to something was it stealing my time and if so was it part of the reason I had such a 

difficult time changing my relationship with food and exercise?

This had been a major excuse with my trainer for the last few months. It went something like this “I would love to work out but you see I have no time!” and all those people on Instagram have jobs that aren’t as stressful as mine. Plus, my personal favorite excuse. I would cook but someone cooked yesterday and didn’t do the dishes and so I have nothing to use. To which he replied “Don’t you live alone?” Touché Mr. Trainer.

Because I have been feeling very explorative (I.E no social life) I decided to do a little experiment. If I truly had no time to eat healthy and exercise where was my time going? After finding a time management sheet on Pinterest I decided to detail my time for three days straight to see where and what I was doing with my time.  After printing out the sheet and filling in the blocks of time with work, commute, and other standing social engagements I realized that every night instead of reading or just mediating I was spending up to an hour looking on Facebook and Instagram. It gets worse. I also discovered that first thing in the morning I spent time in the morning on the same social sites. Which raises a troubling question. What on earth did I expect my friends to do during the night from 9 pm to 5:30 am at night? Also if they were getting wild and crazy at night why weren’t they inviting me?

I felt dirty. Why did I care so much what people were doing instead of engaging in the psychical present? Also was this social media addiction making me feel better about myself? It had started so innocent. A simple way to keep in touch without having to actually having to contact the person and say hey what’s new with you? Also it gave me free reign to stalk what was going on in everyone’s lives. Now it had grown to a full on virtual stalking life in which I didn’t engage much on but was constantly aware of everyone else’s comings and doings. (Side note can we all agree it’s really annoying when you run into someone’s Instagram account and its private? Just saying for a friend.) I found myself judgmental and comparing myself to random people that I had never met. 

Why was I addicted to this?

Because it gave me a chance to escape my present reality. When you live in depression land as much as I did it was like the juice that fed into the depression. See all those happy shiny people? It’s too bad you can’t be like them because you are so dark and twisty. They lost weight. Why can’t you?   I realize as I wrote this last sentence that my brain has watched one too many Grey’s Anatomy episodes. Moving on after doing the whole work on myself bit (here’s the gist. Therapy. Tough love and some pills just to make it interesting) I changed the dialogue.

Which now has brought forth this realization that I have a social media problem not an addiction. It still doesn’t sound right I have been working the last few weeks in changing the habits that are tied with it. Wake up in the morning and instead of grabbing the phone I now grab my running shoes. Bored at work? I go for brief walk. Stuck in an awkward spot? I try to notice what’s going on.

I’m not perfect and I find myself on more than off but hey it’s a start.

Perhaps it’s time to delete some apps. 

99 Luftballons

Do our beliefs limit us?

For the last sixty days I have been religiously logging my food, getting both cardio and weight work outs in and trying to limit bad food choices to single guy night in. For the last sixty days I’ve only lost seventeen pounds. I may have done a fat hand clap however the scale has been hovering at the same weight for the last few weeks and it’s really starting to piss me off. 

In church today we had a speaker talk about how belief can be a great powerful tool or big hindrance. The speaker’s theory was that if we truly believed something that we could manifest it and make it happen and whereas those who lost their beliefs or had beliefs that were harmful could not progress.

Because I’m vain I had to ask myself about my weight loss beliefs. Did I start this journey with the subconscious idea that I was going to fail? Or even worse did I believe that I was a failure because I didn’t measure up to all the other weight loss inspirational stories I see on Instagram and Pinterest? Also was I self-sabotaging myself in order to protect myself from actually accomplishing my goals?

Sitting there I became more and more agitated. Embarrassed. So because I couldn’t run out of the classroom screaming I’m fat! I believe I’m fat and always will be and my goals suck and I just want a damn Almond Joy! I mean I could but people would stare and it wouldn’t solve the problem. So when in doubt write it out.

I went back to the basics of why I started this blog and realized that the piece that I was missing and the key to all of the other weight loss stories was discipline. The factor that I have been missing in the last few years was that when freed from the confines of school deadlines I had no one to really hold me accountable to writing every day, going to the gym, and a really good justification system (I can justify a Java Chip Frappuccino like it’s no one’s business) for all my bad food choices.

Is this just me? Did I truly want to lose weight or was this something I felt like I had to do like flossing and going to bed early?  Taking myself out for a walk I took deep breath and realized that maybe I was taking this too seriously. I had originally started this whole weight loss journey for just the fact that I felt like I had to. Yet as I’ve gotten further down the road I’ve realized that I want to do this. I mean I really want to change. This time feels different. It’s stopped becoming a have to a want to. So on a post it I have written the words I want to change myself limiting beliefs about my weight and bad habits. I didn't hear the heavenly choir but I do feel lighter. 

I’ll keep you posted. 

All the Single Ladies Put Your Hands Up

 As a single person who is in his thirties trying to lose weight I find myself rarely having time to just have a guy’s night in. Since I’ve been taking a timeout on the whole find the eternal companion love of my life dating scene this one night in is the one day of the week that I can eat whatever I want (Chinese or Tony’s), wear whatever I want (Lulu lemon pants and a big triple xxl large sweatshirt) and watch Netflix. Trust me as a single person this is the holy grail of weekends. We spend all day doing laundry, cleaning, going to the grocery store, and getting gas by the time we get home all we want is some uninterrupted television and/or reading (and not the serious intellectual books you always list either. Think People Magazine.) time.

 This Saturday night I found myself in the usual outfit, on the same spot on my couch and having the usual sweet and sour chicken dinner meal when I found myself looking at my food going is this it? Is this the reward that I have gone to the gym for all week? It made me perplexed and wondering why do we add such an emotional attachment to food? Mainly why is it when I call down to Eastern Winds the woman on the other end go you want sweet and sour or chicken chow mein? I found myself in single guy’s night ennui.

I didn’t’ even have anyone to call. With all my friends married and/or in committed relationships I realized I was now the token single male friend that people didn’t know what to do with. Have my friends out grown me? Have I become JNCO jeans and white sunglasses in my friend’s closets? Or even worse frosted bleach hair tips? 

Suddenly the sweet and sour chicken didn’t taste that wonderful. The large coke suddenly tasted overly sweet and syrupy. Was this how I want to spend the rest of life and/or weekends? Worse was I using these food choices as some weird coping method? Throwing the meal away(I’m sorry but we all know day old Chinese food is the one night stand gone bad.) I sat down to write this post.

Have I ruined single guy’s night in? Also where does a thirty plus year old go to make new friends? Also why is it friend making harder to do than dating? With dates you know that if it's a complete disaster you don't have to tell anyone and you can pretend the whole thing  never happened. With exploring new friendships you put more effort into it. Am I wearing the right clothes do I have the right conversation pieces stored away? You find yourself rehearsing how to talk to them so you don't come off as if you are trying too hard. You don't want to be the guy that is trying too hard. You almost want to give them a note with two boxes marked do you like me? yes or no? 

It is these questions that have made me create single guy's night in to begin with. A night free of all this pressure. 

Anybody have any advice for a thirty plus year old person looking for friends? 

And I'm Like Forget You.

I went to the desert. 

I went to the desert to complete an item on my bucket list. I went to go see Adele sing live. I'm not a concert person but this is one of the people I would spend the money on to go see live. 

Of course she canceled. 

Of course. 

So I spent three days in the dry heat in the land of the pretty and pulled. Some people were so pulled and stretched they looked like quilts. 

It had been a long time since I've gone on a trip to a town where no one knows me. I was truly alone. 

Sometimes you need to be alone with yourself to have a conversation of where you are going and what your goals are. So I wrote out a couple of things that I wanted to focus on. 

1. Stop adding emotional attachments to food. Eliminating words like "Cheat, Reward, Pleasure" etc. Food should not be an erotic fetish but rather a means of energy and creation. Creation in the sense of exploring and creating new recipes that full-fill instead of process. 

2. Unplug from the stress. Like yesterday. As I've left my 20's I've realized that my books have changed from fiction to the Self Help section. I call it Still Screwed Up in my 30's please advise or Jesus Take the Wheel!  I mean I've been Tidying Up, becoming a Love warrior, Suze Orzman and I are best friends, and just because I needed some inspiration Eat Pray Love. Or in my case I ate too much, don't pray enough, and love is a battlefield. 

3. The Gym is not the enemy. You can always quit tomorrow. 

4. Learn to love yourself even when the scale is a lying son of b!tch who keeps on being all yeah no you haven't lost much but thanks for trying. He's so mean. If you drive by my Apt one day and you see the scale flying out the window just know it's me. One of my fantasies is to take a sledge hammer and beat that sucker till it's just a scrap of plastic parts which I'll recycle cause it needs new life in the karma cycle. 

5. Write more. Share more.  This post once a month business is just rude to your followers. 

It's Tuesday and I realized that it's almost been two months since I've started this journey. So close to the 260's that I can almost see it on the horizon. (2 pounds away!) 

So there's that. 

B 

It's All Coming Back To Me

Thought you were history with the slamming of the door...it was so long ago but it's all coming back to me...NOW.....

Cause who doesn't need some Celine Dion in their life?  

5 things:

1. I love to travel. Seriously if I stay in town too long I get rude. Ask my co-workers.

2. People magazine was one of my life goals growing up. Meaning I've always wanted a subscription.

3. I need a book to read at night even if it's just an instruction manual (the numbers on a toaster are the minutes to toast not levels of crispy) to put me to sleep.

4. I have a serious stained glass star hoarder problem. 

5. I lost five pounds.

Your So Vain

I'm afraid my trainer is going to fire me. 

It's  a legitimate concern.

 My prior performance has been really spotty at best. When it came to holding up my end of the bargain I was promising him I was brand new Mercedes when in reality I was acting like a 15 year old Hyundai with muffler problems.  

Every time I would go in to see him I would give reasons why I could't follow my workouts, why I wasn't dedicating time to cook, and mainly how I just couldn't cause I had a reason not to. 

Reasons I found out are nothing more glorified excuses we give ourselves for not doing something we don't or are afraid of. Oh my reasons were good. No not good they were golden. I mean they were truly some of the best fiction I've ever told myself. Example " The reason why I couldn't work out today was because I had to work, I tried to eat healthy but it was double stamp day at Waffle LUV and it would have been rude to say no, I ate my feelings cause the reason why is because I felt like I deserved it.." and it goes on and on. 

Let me just be honest and say one thing that puts more of this story into context without me having to go deep and have you feel something and then call my mother and then I have to explain to her what I was trying to explain and then I'll just embarrass myself and then my therapist will finally be able to make another payment on their summer house...so to put it plainly... 

Depression is jerk. 

However I do have to thank him for the year in which I've been working deeper into learning about myself. Mainly looking into my reasons of my bad habits and the fear of change. 

More on that later. 

I have performance review on Monday with my trainer. Wish me luck.

They Can't Take Away My Dignity

I'm so proud of myself. I celebrated pioneer day the way my ancestors intended me to by floating in a giant doughnut float in a pool. 

I would have posted a picture but who wants to see a big fat white kid floating in a pool wearing a yellow suit? Well you will just have to picture it because I don't  have a selfie stick and when I was trying to take the picture my chins got in the way so it didn't happen. 

Lately I've been feeling like Marla Hooch. Every one it seems is having miracle weight loss and I'm the one they  take a picture in a wide angle lense. So instead of feeling all down on myself I've put myself back into school of studying habits and myself. Sometimes all the pieces are there in the puzzle but the motivation, the drive isn't there. In times past this would be a self pitting ice cream confession and a pitiful vow to do better. 

Well I'm done with the vows, the excuses, and the feeling I HAVE to.  Have you noticed that whenever you say I HAVE to you don't do it? I've been saying that for the last month about cleaning my kitchen floor. Everyday and to every person I've talked to I've said oh I can't tonight I HAVE to clean my kitchen floor. Well it's been a month and my floor hasn't been cleaned. I finally had to to change my perspective and say I WANT to. Finally tonight I wanted to clean my floor and it got done. 

In a broader self example I've been working on WANTING to go to the gym. Once I'm there stuff gets done but getting there is always the biggest struggle. So I've been saying to myself I want to do this instead of I HAVE to do this. It hasn't been miraculous but I've been making it there so let's go with that shall we? 

So here's to hoping I can fix into my not so fat pants. 

xo, 

B  

Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story?

I wonder sometimes what my ancestors thought when they rolled into this valley. Did they see this desolate landscape and just go let's just keep going? Or did they just lay back and look at the sky and mountains and go Okay I'm alive for one more day. Let's see what we can create? 

I'll never know because no one thought to write it down. So I can only guess and put my perspective on it. However isn't that what history is? Someone's perspective? 

Today in Church we had a high counsel man humble brag about his long and stoic pioneer ancestors and while he read from his great great great grandfather's journals I found myself drifting off. Perhaps it was the heat (the A/C comped out) or was it just the same story I've heard all my life? 

As we peeled ourselves off the pews and headed towards Sunday school (unfortunately taught by the same thrilling speaker)he began again talking about his family heritage when a hand shot up and the oldest ward member raised herself up and said "You focus so much on the male side of the story but what about your great grandmothers? Their daughters? Without them you wouldn't be standing here telling this story. I'm sick of hearing about the men. Tell me boy what did your great great grandmother do for you?" I have to admit my first thought went to oh snap! The look on his face was priceless. While I don't love to see people squirm in public it raised a fair question. What have your great grandmothers done to your family narrative? 

I took out my notebook and wrote "Without the example of my Grandma Dar I would not be the person I am today. Grandma taught me to use your creativity in order to enrich your life." 

What I've learned the most from my grandmothers and my great mothers is to make time for things that explore your creativity and allows you to create something that is just for you. I have at this moment in my apartment pieces of art created by my grandmother, great grandmother, and my great great grandmothers. All were great accomplished needleworkers, quilters, and cooks. One might argue that all of those skills were necessary in order to survive in reality it those pieces that have been passed on to generation to generation. My grandma Dar once told me that she would lock herself in the bathroom late at night to finish a piece of needlework because she had to see it in the physical state. Or my Great Grandma Esther learning to tat by the older girls on the play ground and taking pieces of string she found and constantly worked on it till she had it right. My great great grandmother quilting late at night during the depression using bits of flour sacks and left over pieces fabric to make quilts in order to keep her family warm during the cold Utah winters. 

Creativity may not be as braggable as the aspects of the high counsel man's great great great grandfather's journal but in reality it is the thing that gets passed on to each generation. It allows us to have original thoughts and say I'm doing this for me. I see it in my sister who works hard in being the best Ironman (woman) she can be. I see it in my Grandpa who took a risk and started a very successful jewelry store. I guess what I'm trying to say is that of all of the traits my pioneer ancestors gave me I'm grateful for the gift of not seeing things for what they are but the way things can be. 

Perhaps that's better than saying my ancestors sang as they walked and walked. 

But that just me. 

B