OOPS I ate it again....

I'm a food addict and I'm coming off a three-day binge.

Since I've had gastric bypass this doesn't involve as much food as it used to. But that's not the point. The point is the amount of control I let food have in my life.

Usually, people consider addiction to be something the user has no control over. I'm not sure I agree with this, especially where food is concerned. I mean, really, it can't prepare itself or force it's own way down my throat.

Sure, there are times when I mindlessly eat. But there are also times when I stand there, in front of either the fridge or cabinet, trying to decide if I want something to eat. I have the argument in my head: should I or shouldn't I? Am I really hungry or just bored, lonely, angry, etc? At those moments, I make a choice. It doesn't just overcome me.

For someone who doesn't struggle with this issue, this will make no sense. People say "just stop". It's not that simple. Food is necessary for life. And following bypass your life is focused on it, which only compounds the issue. I'd prefer not to think about it, to have a body that works properly, and accurately tells me whn I am hungry and when I am full. But those meters stopped working long ago. Sure, they have been somewhat reset by my surgery, and I am learning how to work with my body. But it's a process.

Is it time?

When I was growing up I was terrified of the rapture taking place, with me being left behind.

I grew up in the Assemblies of God, which meant hell and brimstone were regularly preached, seemingly in an attempt to scare all of us into Heaven. So, each night I would get into bed and dutifully recite all my sins, asking for forgivess, praying to not be left behind. Then I'd go to sleep.

If I woke during the night I would listen for my dad snoring. He was on the deacon board. He taught a Sunday school class. He led music for the services. Surely God would not leave him behind. So, if I could hear him, I knew I was safe. The simple reasoning of child.

After I married and had my daughter, this again filled my thoughts. What if the rapture happened? I knew we would be taken, but would we know eachother in Heaven? Would I not get the chance to see her grow up, marry, have children of her own? I remember laying in bed, sobbing, many mornings after my husband left for work. I needed answers. I had to know.

I cried out to God in my despair, and he answered me. Just like the Bible says. Who knew? God promised me He would not return until my children were grown, and that my children would not grow up without their mother (my other nagging fear). That gave such peace to my heart! I felt like I had been heard, and I received an answer.

Well, guess what? My daughter is now 19, and my son is beginning his senior year in high school. My children are grown, and they've done so with their mother. God kept his promise. Does that mean "the end" is near? The Bible says no one knows the day or the time. I knew when it wasn't. But now it seems all the signs are pointing that way. Earthquakes in Pennsylvania. Tsunamis wiping out entire villages. Wars and rumors of war striking terror in men's hearts. I guess it's time to keep my eyes open....

I went to the doctor today.

It seems I have gained 10 pounds this YEAR. That was upsetting. However, more upsetting was the apparent glee the 400-lb nurse felt at telling me. Really? Who was she to judge me?

We as women are a catty bunch. We tear eachother apart based on an unattainable image of "beauty" we have in our heads. And I find no one is immune. The unattractive, homely girls are the obvious choice, but being attractive almost makes you more of a target.

Men seem to find just about all women attractive in some way. Whether that is a positive or not, I don't know. But I do know that very few women find other women attractive. And when we do, we usually don't say anything. We'll search out whatever we can find to criticize.

But, perhaps, more upsetting is how critical we are of ourselves. I often stand in front of the mirror wishing my hair was thicker, my teeth were whiter, my freckles non-existent. But what good does that do me? Realistically, there's not much I can do about these things. But one thing i CAN change is my attitude.

Hold the grainy icing, please

My husband thinks I'm a cupcake snob.

I just think that if your entire business is based on a cupcake, it better be the best cupcake I have ever eaten. It's just that simple. And I think when I enter the door it should smell like you're baking something.

A few months back I visited a new cupcakery, expcting my experience to be Sublime. I wasn't. I selected a peanutbutter cup cupcake, which consisted of a chocolate cake, peanutbutter icing and a mini peanutbutter cup. Let's say this, the best part was the mini peanutbutter cup, which was bought, not made. The cake was dry and actually had a crust around the edges. Very disappointing since it was supposedly made that day. The frosting was fragrant which gave me hope. Unfortunately, it was grainy and left a waxy feeling in my mouth.

A few weeks back, my husband and I tried a brand new cupcakery boasting Swirls of frosting. Instead, it lay flat and visibly grainy on a dense, dry vanilla cake. I might have excused that had it not been for one thing: the owner's arrogance. While we were placing our orders, a friend was engaged with conversation with the owner. I distinctly heard him say "I don't have a lot of time so I decided to do one thing I like and do it very well". That set my expectations pretty high. I expected a cake that was light and airy, fragrant with vanilla. I expected frosting that was smooth and voluminous on top of the cake. While I complained, at home, to my husband about my poor cake quality he attempted to shift the blame to me, that I shouldn't be so critical.

Now, I think when I spend $2.50 for a single cupcake it had better be worth every cent of that. When I go to Chocolate World in Hershey I pay $3 for a cupcake, and each bite reminds me why I am willing to pay that much. The cake is rich and velvety, with no signs of a dry edge. The frosting is smooth, creamy and piled high. The generous amount of candy on top just pushes it over the top. They know what they are doing. There is no need to toot their own horn, the product stands on it's own.

So, call me a cupcake snob if you must. Just remember that when you ask me where to go.

boxers or briefs

A friend recently asked my thoughts on boxers or briefs.

Well, being female, I wear briefs, though for a short time I did wear boxers as shorts. I'd simply sew the fly closed and wear them over my briefs. I don't think they even make boxers for women.

Anyway, when it comes to men's ware I think it's personal choice, though it seems it might be determined by activity. I've heard that it's cooler, temperature-wise, to wear boxers, so then it would make sense to wear boxers when it's hot. Boxers would also make sense when you're wearing dress clothes. It creates a cleaner line on the trousers.

If you're a very active man it seems that briefs would be a better choice for you. I've been told that briefs are better for keeping things close to the body and not escaping out the leg of your shorts. That would just be uncomfortable for all those involved.

Now from an asthetic point of view, I think one should take body type into consideration. Boxers seem to flatter a broader range of shapes while briefs exaggerate one's gut a little more. I know it's "under" wear and called that for where it's worn, but let's face it, there comes a time when another person is going to see you in your underwear. We'd all like to think they really aren't paying that much attention, but how can you be sure? Don't you want to always look your best?

Strength in numbers

I am a strong person. That's what everyone tells me.

But the strength I have I wasn't born with. It's the result of circumstances I've been through. So I got to wondering if anyone is really born a "strong person". Without facing adversity how would you know the strength was there?

Anyway, why is it that when a stong person has a bad day, their friendship circles act like the world is falling apart? That's a lot of pressure! I can't be strong indefinitely. Well, I could, if I lived in a bubble, sequestered from the rest of the world. After all, it's other people who test my "strength".

But I live in the real world, surrounded by real people, which means I am forever given opportunities to grow stronger. It seems that means others expect me to just keep plugging along, always winning, always enduring, always being unaffected. If only that were the case.

The fact is I am often less pulled together in my mind than you think. And sometimes that bubbles up to the surface, where I am unable to contain it. That means I have a bad day, or two, or week.... And when I do, please leave me alone. I'm not being rude or uncaring. I just have enough to sort through without having the added pressure of keeping your world spinning, too.

My husband and I have been working on this for most of our 21 year marriage. Our backgrounds have very different communication styles. His is to blurt it all out and apologize later, if need be. Mine is to internalize and keep everything looking smooth on the surface. I have learned not to say "I'm fine" when it clearly isn't. He has learned to give me space and not ask incessant questions. Sometimes, I just need him to listen. Not ask questions. Not try to solve the problem.

So, please let me have my moments of weakness. It reinforces that I am human. I know that you care, and I won't think any less of you if you don't harass me. Besides, your barrage of "concern" can come across as selfish when it feels like the spinning of your world is dependent on balance in mine.

church hurts

I didn't go to church today. The pastor is away and I wasn't thrilled to listen to the guest speaker. Let's just say it's a personality clash.

Being home got me thinking. I wonder what the rate of relapse is for people who have been hurt by someone in their church. You know, not necessarily "back sliding", but falling into old patterns.

For me it was a piece of cake to stop trusting people again. I had invested so many years into trying to change, giving an honest effort to trust others in my life, not avoiding relationships or blocking everyone who reached out to me. I had made excellent progress. But all it took for me to drop all that growth was for a few very important people in my life to decide they needed to turn my life upside-down.

The pain of their actions is no longer fresh. I'm not consumed anymore with trying to understand why they did what they did. I'm no longer afraid of running into them in public, though I'm in no way wanting to spend time with them. And that got me thinking, too.

If I don't want to spend time with someone, another Christian, here on earth what will happen in Heaven? I know it'll be huge and that just being in God's presence will will consume a huge chunk of my time. But what will happen when/if I see them? It's not like God is going to keep us seperated.

broken friend(s)ships

When a friend decides not to be your friend anymore, it hurts.

But for how long is that person allowed to bad-mouth you to all of your mutual friends? I'm not talking about telling why the friendship ended. What I'm talking about is flat-out lies. And if I am an important enough part of your life that you still need to spend this much energy on me 19 months after you threw me out of your life, then why did you end it?

We've been through this cycle so many times that I can't even count, but this time, I don't even want you back. Is this harsh? I prefer to think of it as self-preservation. Each time you do this one more piece of me is broken and, frankly, I'm running out of pieces.

I thought that now that I'm into my 40s there wouldn't be so much grade-school drama in my life. I thought my friendships would be with adults, and that they would act like such. I thought we'd have friendships based on honesty, mutual respect and a desire to spend time together.

Instead, friendship with you is like a competition. That's just not what I am about at this phase of my life. I don't care if you got a new car (that you can't afford), went to the beach, or drink yourself silly every chance you get. I'm not interested in whose hair is blonder, who is tanner or thinner (though I am all 3).

I just wanted someone to hang out with, talk to, have things in common with. Even now that you've unfriended me, I miss you sometimes. Not enough to jump into that whole mess again.

But I strangely feel like I am stuck in a giant spider web you've woven with no way of getting free. Please, just release me.

death

My son is attending a memorial service for his friend tonight.

It's the first time anyone close to him has died and made worse by the fact that she was only 17. I offered to go with him. He said "no" but his tone let me know he wasn't so sure of that answer. So, I agreed not to go.

I busied myself ironing his dress clothes, three shirts in all, til he decided what he wanted to wear. He preened like he would for a date with his girlfriend, which kind of confused me. But I think it was in respect for his friend, a sign of her importance to him.

Death is a part of life, but I don't like that children have to experience it or it's effects. I was just over 3 when my own mother died. I don't think there was a service. If there was, I don't remember it. But I do remember going to the funeral of an older cousin when I was about 7. Seeing him lying in that casket opened a floodgate of emotions I didn't know existed. Death is not easily understood as a child. Sometimes, even as an adult, I still don't understand it. But I will be here to help my son through it.

My husband and I went to Barnes and Noble last night for cold drinks and to plan a trip to Arizona. As I sipped my iced green tea, a foursome at the table behind us began a somewhat loud conversation.

At first it sounded like a Bible study. That's cool, I thought. But as their conversation raged on, it became obvious that personal growth was not their intent. Instead they were griping about "the wrong type of people" being sat next to the right type in Sunday services, whether any of them would actually attend a midweek service where "a few colorful characters" seemed to take over the conversation, and if a person should "confront a superior" at church about a slight they received.

The harder I tried to ignore them, the louder they talked. Or at least it seemed that way to me. I was tempted to ask them what church they attended. To tell them wanted to be sure to not attend there. I wanted to ask if they felt they were a true representation of those who attend there. To ask if they thought visitors would feel welcome there. But my husband was with me. I didn't really want to embarass him. Plus, I couldn't make a quick get-away if he was there.

Lying for sport

I'm always amazed at the ease with which people lie. Sometimes, it seems to drip from their tongues like saliva; to not be a choice, but a reflex. When did we decided that it's better to mislead a person, supposedly to "protect" them, than to tell them the truth and enable them to make a decision about that information.

I am an honest person. I tell the truth, and I like to be told the truth. To me, there is no such think as a "white lie". Either it's true or it's not. Fact or fiction. Honesty or deceit. I'm not advocating blatant honesty that is delivered without love. I've been guilty of that and have seen the immense pain it can cause. But I am talking about speaking into someone's life in a way that allows them to grow and mature.

The best relationships I have are the ones where people have not been afraid to tell me the truth. They love me enough to tell me I suck, I've screwed up and I've hurt someone. That is very painful to hear. I don't particularly want to know what a bad human being I am. But without this knowledge I am unlikely to change my offensive behavior. Do other people really deserve any less?

I can write it

It's always been easier to write what I feel than to express it verbally. With the onset of email, this has gotten me into more trouble than you'll know. I've always had a quick wit and acerbic sense of humor which doesn't always translate well into the written word. Well, I am going to attempt this blog thing and see what happens. Read at your own risk.