Whose mom are you?

For the first time since the age of two, I have short hair.  I got this haircut in July while we were in Germany.  At the same time, I got my hair lifted.  A lot.  Its took a great amount of time to get used to the idea of cutting my hair that short.  Then, it took a great deal of time to get used to the idea of lifting my hair white.  I little bit of bravery on my part.  But, I fell in love with the cut and the color instantly. 

I've been a slave to the color bottle since I was fourteen.  My natural hair color includes a majority of blonde and a little bit of red.  So, in high school, I embraced the blonde side just as all of my girlfriends were doing too.  At age nineteen, I decided to shake things up and embrace the red side.  I sported practically every possible shade of red over the next fifteen years.  A factor in this dye addiction can be attributed to early grey hairs.  My mother talks about not being able to determine what my infant hair color was going to be because my tufts were filled with every possible strand variety, including grey.  And, at age nineteen, the grey factor increased.  At age twenty-two, a new (single) mom, my grey hairs increased dramtically.  At age twenty-seven, having had a violent near-death incident, my grey hairs suddenly turned into patches. 

I have tried multiple attempts at going natural only to have boyfriends react with quivering lip, "Yeah baby, that looks nice."  Or, my stylists would tell me that I really should consider color.  By age thirty-five, the grey was so dominate that my usual red dye no longer looked appealing so much as clown-like.  I went back to embracing my blonde side because when the color grew out the line was not as harsh as it was on grown-out red hair.  I have been a cheap bleach box blonde for the past six years until the lift in Germany. 

Since Germany, the lift has slowly grown out.  Multiple cuts later and no more color, there is only about 1/8th inch left of some blonde on my longer layers that will most certainly no longer be there after my next cut in the next couple of weeks.  What is there is good old fashioned blah dishwater dirty blonde sprinkled with white greys throughout with large white patches at my temples framing my face.  It is so soft that I can't seem to keep my own hands out of it.  Other people touch it and rub it.  Its kinda cool (smirk). 

But lets talk a little more about that bravery thing.  A number of months before my German haircut, a girlfriend of mine took a clippers to her sexy long mousy brown hair.  I saw this as inspiration and it got me to thinking.  I viewed her as very brave.  I still do.  So many women don't have even the slightest balls to do such a thing and never will that her act of bravery is to be commended, in my view.  I recalled one of the very first issues of Jane that featured an expose by one of its feature editors that detailed that very act of deciding to shave her head, shaving her head and the social reaction to it - what it did to her mental processes and how it crept into her self esteem no matter how convicted she felt about the entire ordeal.  My friend is still rocking her short cut.  And now I am too.

All this bravery and boldness.  I'd been feeling real good about my cut and was marveling at the daily changes in color when strange things started to happen.  Although my friends were telling me that the cut had me looking ten years younger, other public reactions were happening to fuck with my pride.  When we are working out consistently, my husband works out in evenings and I work out in mornings, both at the same box.  One evening, while Garrett was finishing a workout, I was hanging out waiting for him while leaning against one of the GHD machines.  There was also a couple working out.  I saw this couple a few times before but had never had the opportunity to properly introduce myself.  To me, the man appeared to be my same age...40ish.  He was average height (like me), carrying too much weight (like me) and had short dishwater blonde hair with patches and sparkles of grey hair (like me).  His wife looked younger and more fit (like my husband).  This day, Garrett was working out with the man, his wife and maybe one other person.  They were finishing up the work-out when the man approached the grouping of GHD machines and, as he was mounting one, smiled at me while asking "So, whose Mom are you?"

pause

deep breath

Is he talking to me?

"Whose Mom am I?"
"Yeah, whose Mom are you?"
Nervous laugh, "I'm his."  I reply as I point to husband.
"Oh, ok."
"He's my husband."
"Really?  Oh, ok."

I realize he wasn't playing with me.  He was dead serious.  I left him to define his ass via GHD so I could go sit on the stairs and process while Garrett finished up.  The fourth wheel in the workout was long gone by now and after this guy finished up his ass workout he walked over to his wife.  Shortly after he walked directly to me extending his hand for a shake.  He shook my hand while expressing that he did not have his glasses on and that he sees now that he was clearly wrong for thinking that I was my husbands Mom.  He apologized.  I accepted.

Clearly, he didn't mean anything by it.  But what messed with me most was that he absolutely thought that I was that much older than my husband.  Now, the fact that my hair was almost totally naturally grey combined with his perception messed with my ego and sat with me for many days.  The next week, I told my stylist because I thought maybe I should lift my hair again.  Surprisingly, she told me not to.  She assured me the natural color was gorgeous. 

So then my mind reverted to body image.  I know that my husband loves me as I am.  I was a much more robust weight than I currently am when he proposed to me.  We have been married one and half years.  In that time, I have spent a great deal of attention to dropping pounds and regaining my feminine figure.  While still large, I often times forget how far I've come - like four pants sizes in that year and a half.  Garrett continues to be encouraging and loving. 

I have had my ups and downs this year in regard to motivation and commitment to my fitness needs.  I consistency has definite spikes and valleys.  Yet the desire is always there.  Twice I got sick and took longer than I should have getting back to it.  This includes right now.

At a recent social event, a woman older than me was beyond surprised to learn that my both my daughter and my husband weren't my children.  Of course my college-age daughter was my kid but my husband was my kid too, right?  She continued on about wanting a younger lover for herself and then stopped and looked me dead in the eyes and said "For real?  He's your husband?  Well, good for you!"  After repeating over and over how fortunate I was to have such a husband, she explicated further about how good it is for 50-year-old women to have younger men. 

Ugh.

What saved me (aside from my pleasant disposition in situations such as these) was my girlfriend (who witnessed the entire fiasco and who even attempted to sway the focus of conversation off of me) confiding in me that she just doesn't see it.  I love her for this move.  I love her for a lot of things but this sure did help. 

Last week, I went to view a new CrossFit box that is opening.  During introductions, my friend told the owners (all four of them) that "We all are from Paradiso CrossFit."  The guy standing closest to me shook his head in agreeance, then his face washed in realization when he turned to me and muttered, "You too?  Really?"  I felt both humiliated and inspired.  Humiliated that it seemed as though he assumed that just because I am a big girl that I haven't come along way.  Inspired to get more fully immersed in fitness.  Worried that I am a poor representation for my box.

Again, I believe this happened completely innocently.  But, my effing ego took note.

My ego has been getting the ol' one-two punch and I haven't done well to defend it.

I've been cranky lately. 

I would say I am depressed. 

However, I am not giving up.  I know myself well enough that I will make it through this.  I have made it through a whole hell of a lot in my life and I refuse to let body image be the jackhole that takes me under.  I suspect that many people at my box and in my life struggle with the drive toward their goals because we get run down.  And, if you are like me in that you are not a life long athlete, the struggle can be even more challenging.  You feel ashamed.  This leads to hopelessness.  This leads to a lot of other internal demons.  And that is why I am sharing my story - in hopes that someone else will find inspiration in it. 

As much as I shamefully hang my head in the presence of the trainers from my box, the truth is that they aren't judging me to the degree that my mind makes it up.  I know that they see the struggle and they always welcome me back.  Once there, I receive a great deal of encouragment from them.  And this helps me not to quit this life long battle.

I'm still going strong in my own little ways.  I hope you will too.  If you've paused your regime just get back on.  They will only be happy to see you in whatever environment you workout in.  It happens to the best of athletes so it definitely happens to us.  Don't go around thinking its just you.  Its us.  Lets do this!

My Nutritional Mental Overhaul

This week has been a challenge for me as I am at the start of a nutritional overhaul.  Well, technically, its called a cleanse.  What it feels like is torture.  As I sit here eating my hot brown rice for breakfast and dreaming about the days of cappuccino and buttered toast, I heavily sigh.  Yet, just like pushing myself up the sidewalks five times this morning, I hunker down and go for it.  I may not like it but I do it.  It is just something that I need to do.  Besides, it is just for 21 days.  I can do that!  That's easy.  That's just three weeks.


My coach said something this morning that I usually abide by.  He said, "You are what you project."  I fully agree with this statement.  Aside from the occasional moments of pure negativity that are warranted from time-to-time, it seems a positive attitude is the most fruitful.  It doesn't mean that you are selling out to "the man" by being a bit can-do.  It means that you are putting yourself on the right foot as you start off on your day.  To project positivity will generally set you up to receive it, plentifully.  Granted, even the most joyous people have their challenging day.  They keep on going.  They swallow the blow, recuperate and maintain.  Because they practice a positive and proactive attitude then it is much easier for them to shake off the drama.


With this in mind, I have psyched myself into my nutritional plan.  I have been preparing myself for this plan for months.  Like a mental workout, my psyching-up would include telling myself that this would be something new and exciting.  I looked forward to the possibility of new flavors and textures that maybe I might actually like now - now that I am forty.  I was up to the challenge.


This flavor thing is something that has always haunted me.  My Dad would say that it confuses him because he feels he raised me differently.  I don't like things like olives or olive oil dressing or soy milk or flax seed.  I really am not that in to avocado (Guacamole lovers unite!  That means more for you!).  I grew up in the Midwest - on a farm in South Dakota to be exact.  And the culinary flavors of that region are just pretty simple, really.  Some would call them bland.  Meat and potatoes and maybe a simple vegetable (canned corn, steamed carrots or green beans) were the contents of a daily meal for my family.  I wasn't really exposed to many diversions from this daily plan through out my entire childhood.  This has made things quite difficult for me as an adult.  It all comes back to the basic mental processes.  A person like me really has to wrap their mind around the possibility of different tastes, textures and consistencies.


Slowly my tastes have expanded.  I eat cheeseburgers now.  This wasn't always the case.  It used to just be plain hamburgers for me.  I mean dry old burger on a dry old bun and with some ketchup.  That's it.  Now I will have cheese and maybe some grilled onions on there.  And that has been a growth experience.  When I was on my honeymoon this summer, I was a total rebel and had a teriyaki burger (well, more than one but that's beside the point).  It was a challenge for me to consider that there would be pineapple in there next to my burger and that it would be hot, not cold.  But I loved it!

Through the years I have ventured to add things to my palette such as sour cream and mayonnaise.  I eat artichokes, bell peppers and garlic willingly.  But, like I said, this was not easy to accomplish.  I have to tell myself to be open to the possibilities.  So when I received my new nutrition plan and it had all these new flavors on it, I was very excited!  I went through the grocery store with my husband carefully reading every single label as I plopped the new spices (like turmeric and ground mustard) and flavors (like navy beans and olives) into our cart.  I came home, gleefully organized everything and set my mind to a new day to begin the following morning.  Yet, when I was standing there making my hot brown rice with ground flax seed, all the apprehension filled me once again.

I have had to consistently remind myself of my health goals.  I remind myself, again, that this will not be but for three weeks.  As I choke down some olive tapenade with my delicious carrots, these things run through my mind.  You can still keep your avocados, folks.


Yet, just as there are things that my tongue fights me on there are also things that are pretty darn good options.  The fact that I get to eat either salmon or tilapia every day is happiness for me.  I already love salmon and found out just yesterday that tilapia is pretty good too.  Well, I like it anyway.  Maybe this is where my bland palate is benefiting me.  I had never had rosemary sweet potatoes before and I think I am now a fan.


Well, I am only two days into this thing and my scale told me this morning that I had lost two pounds in this short time.  So, I'm guessing this is benefiting me quick like.  I suppose that makes it all worth it!  I know that I am complaining a lot about this but it upsets me because I really really really want to like every last item on the menu but it is just not happening.  I will attempt to be more positive.  I know that I will not give up.  I will not cheat.  I may not finish the tapenade but I definitely tried it and won't replace it with something bad for me.  I will wait it out.


Another thing I hear my coach say often, "Be more."  This is a simple and powerful statement.  In taking on the four day per week workouts and now adding the nutritional cleanse, I am doing everything within my power to be more.  I'll keep you updated on the process and my progress.  As I always say, "I do not pacify.  I aim to inspire and seek inspiration in return."  I certainly am getting my dose of this right now!

Applying my GPA to my Thighs

I am a New Year baby.  This means that forty knocked on my door on the morning of January 1st, 2009.  By May 15th, I finished my undergraduate degree (well, mostly).  By June 13th, I was sprinting down the aisle to wed my handsome Garrett.  I would have thought that sleep would have been an option at that point.  Nope.  Six days after my nuptials I was training with my newly acquired "other" Mom out at Kenneth Hahn Park, Bonnie.  This instantly turned into a 3-4 day per week 6:30/7:00am commitment.  

In fact, today I was out there extra early.  Extra early being 6:27AM.  But this is what I saw when I arrived upon "the hill."  The sun was not yet up, offering only hints of another hot day in the eastern California sky.  The day was looking gorgeous and I couldn't wait to get it started.


I have been working out up here for about two and a half months.  Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, you can find me here at this hour.  Sometimes I am here on Saturdays.  And what amazes me most is that I continue to do so.  I haven't given up on it.  I haven't talked myself out of it.  I haven't fibbed to get out of it.  All I want is more of it.  


You see, I have a blockage about my body image.  I am about 50-60lbs over my ideal weight - that which makes me feel most comfortable in my own skin.  Weight management for me has been a challenge since I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, Patience, when I was twenty-two years old.  Usually on the manageable end of this challenge, I have encountered two difficult periods of weight gain.  Once, I gained drastically during a post traumatic stress period in my late twenties.  This occurred after I was a victim to a violent crime (I will get into that story on another day).  For three years, I suffered and I gained.  


This second problematic gain came during my latest attempt at undergraduate education - a six-year journey.  When I started at Santa Monica College in 2003, I weighed a sexy 155lbs or so.  Now, well...you do the math.  With every semester, I buried my head further and further into my studies.  It was my intent to overcome my educational obstacles and, in doing so, paid no mind to my body.  I did spend my third year preparing for and running in a 5k.  I built my endurance but I did not lose the weight.  By the time I enrolled at USC in the fall of 2006, my weight had maxed and, frankly, I did not want to know the real truth of the actual figures in pounds.  However, with everything I had learned through my education and my sustainability pursuits together with the sound advice of some dear friends, I began to change how I consumed.  My whole household changed their perspective on what we were consuming versus what we should be consuming.  Conscious consumption had been born in our home.  


So while we made efforts to go organic in addition to cutting out things like high fructose corn syrup and partially hydrogenated whatever oil, the weight was still there.  Some came off.  I don't know how much.  I just know that my clothes fit better and my complexion was better.  I felt better but I was still 50+ pounds heavier than my comfort weight.  


The entire time that I pursued my education, I had this fantasy.  I wanted to apply my grade point average to my body.  I wanted a great big old fat tube of GPA that I could squeeze out in massive amounts and rub onto my thighs and my upper arms and my belly like a heavy night cream.  Really, this was my fantasy.  The way I saw it, I was achieving monumental goals through the exercise of my brain on a daily basis.  I was assaulting my blockages psychologically to retrain how I approached mental processes.  I was winning this battle and, as a result, receiving outstanding scholarship awards and grants - massive recognition to help me achieve my academic goals.  It seemed that the higher my GPA grew, so did my weight.  So, I thought to myself, why couldn't I apply the same techniques that I used to get past my own mind to get past my own body?  This fantasy eluded me as I continued to chose my studies over my body.  


Upon graduation and wedding, my unspoken fantasy surfaced.  It has come to fruition in the most unexpected ways.


I get to work out with my new mom-in-law, Bonnie.  And one of my trainers is my new sister-in-law, Tianna.  The local natural environment is our gym.  Our trainer, our coach, Erich Nall, presents such a positive force that there is never any doubt.  Ours is a family environment that extends to everyone on the hill.  Always smiling, always laughing, we have a great time while we put our best selves forward challenging the physical and mental barriers within us.  It is all of these factors that keep me accountable and committed and excited about this new venture in total wellness.  


In my near-three months that I have been participating in applying my GPA to my thighs, I have shed somewhere between 6-10lbs.  My physicality is in constant positive change and my mental processes are smoothing out.  I am loving the heck out of conquering fears and blockages that have been there for years.  And, I am eager to see what each new day brings.  


I may still be tired and I may still be pounds over my ideal but I am making progress toward my own personal transformation.  And, like a mentor of mine said to me today, "If you are moving in the right direction, why stop and ask for directions?"  Gaining the weight took me six solid years, so dropping it isn't going to happen overnight.  I will remain focused and patient and revel in the little accomplishments along the way.  My new husband loves me exactly as I am.  I am already the cake.  I am adding the icing along the way.  


OH, man.  Did I just say cake and icing?