Caterwauling

For those who haven’t seen my pudgy pork roast ass lately, I’ve found some of the weight that I’d lost. Damn it.

Oddly enough, I maintained my ‘low’ weight for the past year. It was in the past two months of transition (job, apartment, other shit) that I sprouted an extra ass cheek.

I think it’s because the last year was SO BAD, that the only thing that I could control was my food intake. And now that things are getting better, I haven’t exerted so much control about what I’ve been eating — I’ve finally felt more in control of my life, so I could ease up on the eating restrictions.

And so…

I stepped on the scale last night and just about died. So tonight, after a full year away, I dragged all three ass cheeks to Weight Watchers. Since I’ve been paying for it all this time and all.

As I met with the leader (whom I LOVED) after the meeting, since I’m being treated like a total newbie, I started to say what everyone says … that it was a tough year and I thought I could do it on my own and blah blah blah.

You know, the stories everybody tells.

But then I went into details. And my new leader — who has heard everything a thousand times — widened his eyes and indicated that, OK, NOW he has heard it all!

And in that moment, I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I stopped being angry that I let some of the weight return. I stopped blaming myself and everyone else who has sabotaged me — who I LET sabotage me.

He asked what brought me back. I said I’m taking my life back. Which I’ve tried to do a hundred different ways and times, and here we go again.

The first time I went to WW, it was to lose weight. It was through that experience that I gained a sense of control over my life. This time, I’m going back for the control, and the de-pudgifying process will follow.

I’d say the scare on the scale is responsible for about 96% of this new adventure. Wanting to die while climbing stairs might be part of that, too. My favorite jeans not fitting sucks … as does the fact that I bought those jeans another size down, and they’re still sitting in the plastic from when Old Navy shipped them to me. That REALLY sucks.

And I would be lying if I didn’t admit that the other 4% of my motivation came from being with people this past weekend who were, are and will be special to me. Friends, lovers and business partners, past and present — people who ‘knew me when’ and will know me a long time from now.

I don’t know if it was any of them per se, or maybe more the idea of living a long and healthy life so that I will know them forever, that kind of kicked my ass. And maybe a small part of me felt regret that I wasn’t able to showcase a supermodel-sized self because I totally dropped the ball on my health-improvement plans.

Good thing they all love me anyway.

But while I’ve never defined myself by appearance, that doesn’t mean I don’t WANT to. Because I do. I so very much do.

So anyway, I’m not blogging to broadcast to the world about the size of my pudgy pork roast ass. I AM doing it to make myself accountable to getting it right this time.

My leader asked us how many of us were first-timers to WW. Two people raised their hands, out of 40. That means I’m not the only one who fell off the bike in the middle of the ride. But I — like so many others — got back on. And walking through the doors for the first time — or the second shot at the first time — is always the hardest part.

Perhaps at my next weigh-in, even if I haven’t lost a single pound, I will be able to say that at least my heart is a lot lighter, knowing that my victories are not limited to the scale, but that the war with the scale is a battle I can win nonetheless.

Ra, Baltimore

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

“Keeping her desire paralyzed
She catches from the corner of her eyes
Tank top, smooth skin, sunned lips, tan thighs
How the hell is this ache ever gonna die?”

– Melissa Etheridge, “The Wanting of You”

Methinks somebunny opened up a floodgate that was never really securely fastened anyway.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

I haven’t been taking care of myself lately. I wish I had. But today I’ll start making up for lost time, since that seems to be the theme of my life these days.

*smiling to myself*

I was going to type that the inmates are running the asylum today, but:

A) I’m no longer in prison.
B) Come to think of it, I’ve been promoted to warden!

I was brave last night and had dinner at the “bad” end of town, as I like to call it. I figured there was no chance of running into anyone I didn’t want to see. Which, luckily, I didn’t. *whew*

But it reminded me of the last time I went to said restaurant. It was a particularly long day, and an even-longer night was ahead.

Someone had made a very odd comment to me in the midst of it all. That wasn’t unusual. And even the comment itself, while mind-boggling in and of itself, was pretty normal (given the source). I believe the term “backhanded” comes into play here.

So I decided to go grab some food from said restaurant. How do I put this cryptically — perhaps I can say that the comment was totally negated during the walk. Yeah, I’ll leave it at that. I wasn’t surprised in the least, but I was used to things taking a little longer than half an hour to unravel.

It was the last time I ate at that place, and the memory nearly tainted my yummy french fries last night.

A thought occurred to me at some point, about how we choose to spend our time. How we feel obligated to stay in one place for whatever the reason — we need to give it more time. We need to be patient and understanding. We “owe” somebody something.

Need, need, need.

Damn it, the only thing we NEED to do is to exercise free will.

Thank God I did.

Thank God, indeed.

‘Cause nobody owes us SHIT, and that’s exactly what they’ll give us for as long as we let them.

Shit has an expiration date, kids. Don’t keep it any longer than you need to.

And that’s my public service message for today.

DSCN5673

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

“You swore that you were bound for glory
And for wanting you, I had no shame
But I loved you, and then I lost you
And I will never be the same.”

– Melissa Etheridge, “I Will Never Be the Same”

I’ve been singing that damn song for days. Apparently Memory Lane spans across state lines.

I wonder if, in fact, that if you wish for something long and hard enough, it actually comes true.

I was probably more certain then than I am now. But I’ve left skid marks going around this block as many times as I have, and there’s a certain level of “What’s left to lose other than time and a whole lot more?”

And yet, I still get shy. Like, the 1% doubt that I’m hallucinating is a pretty powerful percentage when it comes right down to it.

But all I can really say is this. I have re-lived a moment in my head a good thousand or so times over the years. And that moment came right back around again.

This time, I owned it. I didn’t then. I did now.

And damn it all anyway, if I can have a moment on command, I’m going to start wishing bigger.

I can’t wait to see what comes of it when I do!

Mt. Vernon, early evening

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So, I was afraid of this.

Not Maryland (although, when I lived in Northern Virginia, I was certainly afraid of Maryland drivers! Hell, I am one and I’m STILL afraid). But of coming back and never wanting to leave.

With the weather turning nasty here in Washington today, I wonder whether my flight back down to the land of sand and palm trees will be canceled.

And I’m kinda OK with that. Well, minus the inconvenience and expense and all that jazz.

I just feel like I’m home. Not so much in D.C., although I love having instant access to it. But while my life in Florida feels like an extended vacation (minus the working-for-a-living part), I wouldn’t mind moseying back to Maryland under the right conditions.

Maybe I’m just enjoying my resumption of the “world traveler” role, as I’m no longer stuck in a dark corner with a roach motel under my desk, longing for a glimpse of sunlight and fighting against the current for anything resembling meaning and reason.

I met some extraordinary people this weekend, and was reunited with just as many amazing old friends. And it’s nice to have money in my pocket for nice dinners and other experiences as opposed to picking up a silly little souvenir that I’ll toss in two years.

I’ve got a full day ahead before flying back to the life I’ve built on stilts over the Intracoastal. But as for the fear I mentioned earlier, it’s that I’d come back and never want to leave.

I think if I were going back to my first incarnation of existence in Florida, I’d probably find an apartment RIGHT NOW here in Maryland and send for my things. But I’m OK with going back to my home base because I know I can escape at any moment.

My challenge right now is knowing that I CAN run away … that I don’t HAVE to love where I am because I can just run for the hills on command. Because, it’s tempting. And I don’t know that I can truly love where I am when I know that door is always open for me to run through it.

I wonder if that’s been the theme of my life that I’ve waited so long to identify. Maybe that’s where it all went wrong. Maybe always having my eye out for the Next Big Thing made me miss a lot of opportunities right in front of me … personally, relationally, professionally. Perhaps it’s been a mixture of feeling “not good enough” for the good things I had/have, and yet worthy of something more … whatever that is.

In any case, all the opportunities at hand are mine to lose. So I might as well seize the shit out of them all so that I can feel like I’ve truly experienced everything and didn’t put something on hold while hoping for something else to work out.

Chandelier at Brewer’s Art, Baltimore

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I’m leaving one of my favorite cities today. Had two job offers here in Baltimore earlier this year, and pondered moving here a thousand times. But I’m lucky that I’ll just get to come up here when the mood strikes.

Last night, I had the wonderful opportunity to see someone who was very, very special to me 15 years ago. Well, special to me even today, but I think I was 21 years old when we last saw each other.

I was nuts at 21, I think. (Yes, less so than at 35, in case you’re wondering — this IS the functional version of me!)

I am kind of proud that I’ve turned out so well, and admittedly I am often sort of surprised that my dumbass behavior back then hasn’t turned (too many) people against me.

We were to meet at 8 p.m., which turned in to 9. I never admitted that I actually arrived at said destination around 7:30 (pictured). I was excited and nervous all at the same time — like, OK, what do you have to talk about after 15 years has gone by?

It was more like only 15 MINUTES had only gone by. There are friends you need to lose, friends you should never lose, and friends that you should thank your lucky stars that the world brings you together again.

We just laughed and laughed, you know? Talked about old times somewhat — about the things we remembered about each other. And none of it was us doing dumb stuff (although we did enough of that!). It was, oddly enough, things like going to church together back in the day. Spending Christmas together. Listening to music together because we were too broke to do anything else.

Age has been kind to us, we think. Life has been kind, and it’s kicked our asses. And we’re better versions of the people we were circa 1995.

We made a promise that it won’t be another 15 years that we run into each other. I mean, this event almost didn’t happen, as the door was open to reconnect and I wasn’t sure I should open it. I guess I thought I’d be the only one who was stupid-excited about this reunion. Silly girl.

Well, I guess I’ve got to take my grown-up ass to work before I head south for the weekend. I just wanted to marvel that I woke up with a smile today. I do that from time to time, but today, I have a good reason!