Finally bought the Wii Fit Plus last weekend.
Got it set up with all my people coordinates - age, weight, height. How exciting!!
After I figured out how to get the thing going, I picked my Mii and put in my weight. And the computer in the game made my Mii bigger. A lesser person may have been upset - I found the humor and the truth in it.
Next, I picked a trainer, an exercise and was ready.
"Please step on the board" What manners I thought, as I stepped on.
"Oooh!" Excuse me? I got back off. And stepped back on.
"Oooh!" You are kidding me, I thought. Because this wasn't "Oooh" as in "Oooh lala!"
This was "Oooh!" as in "Oooh my aching back!" I absolutely couldn't help myself and laughed right out loud. "Ah well," I said to the game, "could have been worse, you could have said "OOMPH!"
I have to be honest, I cannot do a lot of the things yet. I fell twice off the tightrope before I moved to twists. I did fine there, but regular calisthenics are a bit boring, so I tried this bike ride around the island game. You know, that was a hoot! The faster you march in place the faster the bike goes and I had to slow down twice before my Mii simulated a wipe out!
I did try some sort of hit the number with a simulated hip movement to the back, sides and front game where you try to hit the numbers that add to 10. While I did fine side to side I could not hit a thing correctly with my backside. Which both confused and delighted me. Because there is a lot of Mii ... er... me .... back there.
At work Monday I was telling two co-workers about the "Oooh"ing. "When you gain weight it tells you," one of the said. Excuse me? "When you gain weight it says "Oh! You've put on a little weight!" The other one chimed in. "And asks where you are." What? "If you don't get on it for a while, and someone else plays, it will say 'Where is Ann? She hasn't been on in a while.'."
Nice. Nice. And now you know why I chose the title for this blog that I did.
A few people have asked why I don't have an email for comments. In the beginning, I thought it to be a little self serving. Their thought was if someone wanted to ask a question or offer advise, they may not want to do it in the comment section, so as they made their case, I decided I would give an email address at the end of each blog - which is weirlosingit@gmail.com
So, there you go - and I leave you with this - I hope you all are having as much fun exercising as I am! And again, thanks for reading this... it really does inspire me to continue!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Trepidation
I wasn’t going to report a weight loss until 10 pounds were shed. But 9.7 is close enough. Boy was that a hard fought fight. I hope the rest don’t take me this long. I know, I know. You didn’t get fat overnight. I have to be honest, that’s even more halting for me because this has been 50 years in the making. OK, not 50. Just seems like it.
I have gained some along the way, and lost again. This week I am sitting on a small gain. Actually, judging by the way my pants feel, I am more than confident I am sitting on it.
When I look at that 9.7 as an overall loss, I am a bit proud of myself and a little worried too, because, my goodness, the thought of being a healthy weight, though still a ways away, is daunting. You see, not only have I gotten comfortable, I have taken advantage of my girth. This weight of mine has gotten me out of riding roller coasters “Sorry, I don’t think the bar will fit me, you go ahead”, swimming (which I do not know how to do) “Oh, no, no thank you, I don’t look good in a bathing suit”, and I have used it when people don’t like me. “Oh, they don’t like me because of my weight.” Even in college, when I was up and down the scale, I used it as a reason for not having a boyfriend. “Well, I’m not skinny enough.”
And it’s those last two – reasons for not liking me - that frighten me. Because, what, after all is said and done, what if I find out it’s really me someone doesn’t like? What if someone doesn’t like my sense of humor? My laugh? The way I am direct? What if it’s really me? I do not like not being liked. I think most people feel that way.
What if I have a personality change and am no longer funny and witty? What if I drop friends along the way? What if I get new friends and wonder if they would have liked the old me?
It really shouldn’t be hard and sometimes I do put too much thought into things. But I know, from talking to people here and there who also have substantial weight to lose, that I am not the only one that feels the way I do right now.
I am going to be a whole new person. What if I change too much? In the past I have really let that one thing torpedo my diet – but I cannot anymore and I am really having a battle within.
I hope I succeed.
I have gained some along the way, and lost again. This week I am sitting on a small gain. Actually, judging by the way my pants feel, I am more than confident I am sitting on it.
When I look at that 9.7 as an overall loss, I am a bit proud of myself and a little worried too, because, my goodness, the thought of being a healthy weight, though still a ways away, is daunting. You see, not only have I gotten comfortable, I have taken advantage of my girth. This weight of mine has gotten me out of riding roller coasters “Sorry, I don’t think the bar will fit me, you go ahead”, swimming (which I do not know how to do) “Oh, no, no thank you, I don’t look good in a bathing suit”, and I have used it when people don’t like me. “Oh, they don’t like me because of my weight.” Even in college, when I was up and down the scale, I used it as a reason for not having a boyfriend. “Well, I’m not skinny enough.”
And it’s those last two – reasons for not liking me - that frighten me. Because, what, after all is said and done, what if I find out it’s really me someone doesn’t like? What if someone doesn’t like my sense of humor? My laugh? The way I am direct? What if it’s really me? I do not like not being liked. I think most people feel that way.
What if I have a personality change and am no longer funny and witty? What if I drop friends along the way? What if I get new friends and wonder if they would have liked the old me?
It really shouldn’t be hard and sometimes I do put too much thought into things. But I know, from talking to people here and there who also have substantial weight to lose, that I am not the only one that feels the way I do right now.
I am going to be a whole new person. What if I change too much? In the past I have really let that one thing torpedo my diet – but I cannot anymore and I am really having a battle within.
I hope I succeed.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
What's Your Pleasure?
My mission?
Write about Guilty Pleasures.
You would think, since I blog about my struggle, and hopefully success, at downsizing my size, I would write a piece on foods. While food does bring me pleasure, and sometimes guilt, it is not my guilty pleasure.
You know that song "Silly Love Songs" by Paul McCartney? I don't like that song.
But I do like silly sappy love songs.
Yes, me, the one who likes the Rolling Stones and Bruce and Santana. Heck I even like a little Guns and Roses and a bit of Eminem!
I love love love silly sappy love songs.
Celine Dion, Air Supply, Whitney Houston, Chicago. Richard Marx. The sappier the better.
I do not like to disclose that info. I like that people don't know I turn up Michael Bolton full blast on my car radio.
Those that know me a little, or don't know me at all, probably are thinking “What's the big deal?” but those who do know me? Do you know what they are thinking? “You have GOT to be kidding me!” because they know what I listen to. They know I like good music.
Sorry fellow love song aficionados. But you need only take Lyric Writing 101, and basically pass with a “C”, to write a good sappy song.
I give you as evidence “Honey” sung by Bobby Goldsboro, written by Bobby Russell. “See the tree, how big it’s grown, but friend it hasn’t been too long, it wasn’t big!” I mean, that line doesn’t even make sense! But, it is a great sappy song. It has all the requirements – sensitive singer, sensitive lyrics, soft musical arrangement, even a tearjerker ending.
Yes, sometimes those silly sappy songs can even bring a tear to my eye.
I can darn near feel the heartbreak, the need, the desire put fourth in three or four verses and a couple choruses.
It does not get any better than that.
Write about Guilty Pleasures.
You would think, since I blog about my struggle, and hopefully success, at downsizing my size, I would write a piece on foods. While food does bring me pleasure, and sometimes guilt, it is not my guilty pleasure.
You know that song "Silly Love Songs" by Paul McCartney? I don't like that song.
But I do like silly sappy love songs.
Yes, me, the one who likes the Rolling Stones and Bruce and Santana. Heck I even like a little Guns and Roses and a bit of Eminem!
I love love love silly sappy love songs.
Celine Dion, Air Supply, Whitney Houston, Chicago. Richard Marx. The sappier the better.
I do not like to disclose that info. I like that people don't know I turn up Michael Bolton full blast on my car radio.
Those that know me a little, or don't know me at all, probably are thinking “What's the big deal?” but those who do know me? Do you know what they are thinking? “You have GOT to be kidding me!” because they know what I listen to. They know I like good music.
Sorry fellow love song aficionados. But you need only take Lyric Writing 101, and basically pass with a “C”, to write a good sappy song.
I give you as evidence “Honey” sung by Bobby Goldsboro, written by Bobby Russell. “See the tree, how big it’s grown, but friend it hasn’t been too long, it wasn’t big!” I mean, that line doesn’t even make sense! But, it is a great sappy song. It has all the requirements – sensitive singer, sensitive lyrics, soft musical arrangement, even a tearjerker ending.
Yes, sometimes those silly sappy songs can even bring a tear to my eye.
I can darn near feel the heartbreak, the need, the desire put fourth in three or four verses and a couple choruses.
It does not get any better than that.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Cheating? No not really
Morning Mind Bender on our local radio station: What number in the English language, when spelled out, has all its letters in alphabetical order?
I was the first caller and won! An extra-value meal at McDonald's! Wow, I thought. I can put this in my husband's lunch or give it to my son! How great is that!
Except I did not do either of those things. I, instead, upon picking up the coupon at the local radio station, went right to McDonald's for a #2 - Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal.
I wasn't going to worry about calories or points. I deserve this! I reasoned. My husband didn't call in and win. My son didn't call in and win. I did all the work. Besides, I work hard all week, go home and work. It's all work, work work! I deserve a break - today - just like the old jingle went.
So, as I sat in my cube, enjoying my meal, my supervisor's supervisor came down the hall. "I smell French Fries!" then she looked in my cube and gave me a look "I smell French Fries?" as in, "Coming from your cube?" I tried to reason with her - they were without fat, calories or points because I won them.
Nope, she wasn't buying what I was selling. I heard laughter from other cubes.
So, as it goes, I do not deserve a break because I knew the answer, because I work, or because I make up rules as I go along.
I do deserve to be healthy and pay attention to everything I eat and adjust the rest of the day accordingly - by not starting over.
So, here I sit, full on a 23 points plus meal. I have 12 left for snack and dinner and I can use my weekly points. Five minutes ago it was worth it - now? Not so much.
But it's in the books.
We do need breaks, all of us. But better alternatives are reading, soaking in a hot bath, walking, even emailing friends, these are all positive ways to have a break.
Oh, and that number that caused all this trouble? The one spelled alphabetically correct?
Forty.
Have a good week! And count what really counts!
I was the first caller and won! An extra-value meal at McDonald's! Wow, I thought. I can put this in my husband's lunch or give it to my son! How great is that!
Except I did not do either of those things. I, instead, upon picking up the coupon at the local radio station, went right to McDonald's for a #2 - Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal.
I wasn't going to worry about calories or points. I deserve this! I reasoned. My husband didn't call in and win. My son didn't call in and win. I did all the work. Besides, I work hard all week, go home and work. It's all work, work work! I deserve a break - today - just like the old jingle went.
So, as I sat in my cube, enjoying my meal, my supervisor's supervisor came down the hall. "I smell French Fries!" then she looked in my cube and gave me a look "I smell French Fries?" as in, "Coming from your cube?" I tried to reason with her - they were without fat, calories or points because I won them.
Nope, she wasn't buying what I was selling. I heard laughter from other cubes.
So, as it goes, I do not deserve a break because I knew the answer, because I work, or because I make up rules as I go along.
I do deserve to be healthy and pay attention to everything I eat and adjust the rest of the day accordingly - by not starting over.
So, here I sit, full on a 23 points plus meal. I have 12 left for snack and dinner and I can use my weekly points. Five minutes ago it was worth it - now? Not so much.
But it's in the books.
We do need breaks, all of us. But better alternatives are reading, soaking in a hot bath, walking, even emailing friends, these are all positive ways to have a break.
Oh, and that number that caused all this trouble? The one spelled alphabetically correct?
Forty.
Have a good week! And count what really counts!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
It's Yet Another New Year!
Feb 3 starts the Chinese New Year – the Year of the Rabbit. I am sure my husband will want to celebrate; probably by going to any one of the three buffets that offer a plethora of Chinese cuisine in our little area. I admit it does not take much to get him to one. Like TG Sheppard and his women, when it comes to buffets, my husband loves ‘em, every one.
We often eat out on Saturdays, mostly at the buffets, and I will tell you, I do not order off the menu. Because, contrary to rules of thumb everywhere, I do actually eat less from a buffet. I take just a piece of each offering – one piece of Lemon Chicken, one mushroom from the beef and mushroom, one (OK, two) broccoli from the Chicken and Chinese Vegetables. I do take the sesame green beans but I bypass rice and lo mien and I do grab an egg roll. I stick pretty much to chicken offerings as well as create my own vegetable palate. With all this, I still have less on my plate than someone who does order off the menu. I try not to go back for seconds. Depends on if I am full or not. We do not eat dinner on these days, but I may have fruit later.
But, you know, it’s OK to once in a while, once in a great while, to have seconds. I am learning I cannot deprive myself but am also learning to eat only when I am hungry. My cousin has H.A.L.T. on her fridge. You have to ask yourself, she says, why are you eating? Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired? If you are hungry, eat, but if not, find something else to do.
I am finding this is more than a diet. I am finding it is a new way not only to live, but to think. I have to adhere to most rules but I have to be easy on myself when I don’t or when I can’t. (Because I also like the chicken chunks in the sweet and sour chicken!)
It’s something new every day, and I will pass it all along as I go on this journey.
We often eat out on Saturdays, mostly at the buffets, and I will tell you, I do not order off the menu. Because, contrary to rules of thumb everywhere, I do actually eat less from a buffet. I take just a piece of each offering – one piece of Lemon Chicken, one mushroom from the beef and mushroom, one (OK, two) broccoli from the Chicken and Chinese Vegetables. I do take the sesame green beans but I bypass rice and lo mien and I do grab an egg roll. I stick pretty much to chicken offerings as well as create my own vegetable palate. With all this, I still have less on my plate than someone who does order off the menu. I try not to go back for seconds. Depends on if I am full or not. We do not eat dinner on these days, but I may have fruit later.
But, you know, it’s OK to once in a while, once in a great while, to have seconds. I am learning I cannot deprive myself but am also learning to eat only when I am hungry. My cousin has H.A.L.T. on her fridge. You have to ask yourself, she says, why are you eating? Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired? If you are hungry, eat, but if not, find something else to do.
I am finding this is more than a diet. I am finding it is a new way not only to live, but to think. I have to adhere to most rules but I have to be easy on myself when I don’t or when I can’t. (Because I also like the chicken chunks in the sweet and sour chicken!)
It’s something new every day, and I will pass it all along as I go on this journey.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Catch-22
Catch 22
There is a space on Facebook called “About Me”. Mine says only “22”. That number doesn’t symbolize my favorite age, nor is it the number of a favorite athlete.
Simply, it defines my goal. In Weight Watchers we talked about realistic goals. Saying we want to lose weight is fine, but for some of us, what we want to lose is beyond the scope of anything immediate. Or even short term. And can even be so overwhelming that it’s hard to stay focused on losing weight at all. Our leader suggested goals that were easy to obtain in the short term to help us build to the long term goal.
Some are focusing on the 10% and some on 5%. For me the number on the scale moving ever so slowly down is a painful reminder of how far is yet to come. And frankly, on someone my size, 10% is barely visible to the naked eye. It’s disheartening when you mention you’re on Weight Watchers and you’re asked if you’ve lost anything yet…after losing 32 pounds. Sigh. I haven’t yet, but did last time I went. Then I got frustrated and quit. I am not going to quit again.
The 22, therefore, does not represent the next weight loss goal. What it does represent is the next size down in my transitional wardrobe. I have many pieces of clothing in 22 and I am, alas, a 24. A large 24. That is not to say I am a 26. The 24s fit. Just fit. So, my goal, the 22, is the size I am shooting for. Loose clothing is something real I can feel and is concrete evidence that, while my husband or kids might not notice I am losing weight, I will know I am losing weight.
I am also trying to forgo ‘comfortable clothes’ in public. You who are bonus sized know what I am talking about: The sweatpants, pajama pants, ‘workout’ pants and stretch pants and the coordinating sweatshirts, oversized blouses and the poly-cotton shirts that stretch (whether we want them to or not).
These clothing choices really do nothing except scream that I am uncomfortable in my own skin so I am not dressing me up when I go out. And you know what? Why shouldn’t I look nice? I mean, I try to pull it together when I go to work, but why shouldn’t I slap on make-up, do my hair and just feel good with who I am when I am not at work?
So, that is why I am focusing on size 22. I can get there – it is one size, one goal, one step. Chinese Philosopher Lao Tzu said the journey of 1,000 miles begins with one step. Let the countdown of many one steps begin!
Put on your shoes and one step with me down one size. And let’s keep the comfortable clothes out of the public eye!!
There is a space on Facebook called “About Me”. Mine says only “22”. That number doesn’t symbolize my favorite age, nor is it the number of a favorite athlete.
Simply, it defines my goal. In Weight Watchers we talked about realistic goals. Saying we want to lose weight is fine, but for some of us, what we want to lose is beyond the scope of anything immediate. Or even short term. And can even be so overwhelming that it’s hard to stay focused on losing weight at all. Our leader suggested goals that were easy to obtain in the short term to help us build to the long term goal.
Some are focusing on the 10% and some on 5%. For me the number on the scale moving ever so slowly down is a painful reminder of how far is yet to come. And frankly, on someone my size, 10% is barely visible to the naked eye. It’s disheartening when you mention you’re on Weight Watchers and you’re asked if you’ve lost anything yet…after losing 32 pounds. Sigh. I haven’t yet, but did last time I went. Then I got frustrated and quit. I am not going to quit again.
The 22, therefore, does not represent the next weight loss goal. What it does represent is the next size down in my transitional wardrobe. I have many pieces of clothing in 22 and I am, alas, a 24. A large 24. That is not to say I am a 26. The 24s fit. Just fit. So, my goal, the 22, is the size I am shooting for. Loose clothing is something real I can feel and is concrete evidence that, while my husband or kids might not notice I am losing weight, I will know I am losing weight.
I am also trying to forgo ‘comfortable clothes’ in public. You who are bonus sized know what I am talking about: The sweatpants, pajama pants, ‘workout’ pants and stretch pants and the coordinating sweatshirts, oversized blouses and the poly-cotton shirts that stretch (whether we want them to or not).
These clothing choices really do nothing except scream that I am uncomfortable in my own skin so I am not dressing me up when I go out. And you know what? Why shouldn’t I look nice? I mean, I try to pull it together when I go to work, but why shouldn’t I slap on make-up, do my hair and just feel good with who I am when I am not at work?
So, that is why I am focusing on size 22. I can get there – it is one size, one goal, one step. Chinese Philosopher Lao Tzu said the journey of 1,000 miles begins with one step. Let the countdown of many one steps begin!
Put on your shoes and one step with me down one size. And let’s keep the comfortable clothes out of the public eye!!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sisters
Not too long ago there was an email forward about a mother talking to her recently married daughter. The mother looked at her daughter and advised “Don’t forget your sisters.” And she meant all women. When I got that email – I have to tell you, I knew exactly what she meant. You all should meet just a few of my many “sisters.” These are just a few of my many friends who support me, inspire me and touch me.
First, my real sister, Linda. Bound biologically; we are, for the most part, opposites. I’m young – she’s old (she reads this), I’m more interested in sports, she computers; I’m married, she’s divorced. If we had met randomly at work or at school, we would simply have passed one another by, nodded politely and kept going. I am so glad fate and biology brought us together. She keeps me true to myself and she takes care of me. Like only a sister can.
Next, I’d like you to meet Trish. This is my niece, the aforementioned sister’s daughter. She is actually closer in age to me – eight years difference – than my sister – twelve. She was the first baby I had ever been around and she is actually more like me than anyone I know. We devour books, hold English degrees – mine English Communications, hers English Language Arts with a Masters in English Secondary Education, love our family and are firm believers in the importance of an education. I adore this girl; the little girl she was, the woman she is. I am so proud of her.
You would have to meet Sharon – a friend from college. Sounds trite calling her that - a friend – no formality like best friend, good friend. They are all that to me – that is assumed I guess. Sharon and I share a love of music and laughter. She is the one who I can be the most honest with when I am sad or having a rough go of it and I am that for her. But I tell you this – no one can make me laugh like she does and no one laughs harder at my foibles – planned or unplanned. Like our last Alumni Weekend this past fall. I needed a new bra. Apparently everyone in Adrian in my size did too because while I could find sizes smaller and larger, I couldn’t find my size. Except at Dollar General. Suffice to say, do not buy a bra at that store. Every time I stood up to say hi or hug someone, my bra slid up to my neck. And I do not mean in the back. I sat most of the night politely waving to people I hadn’t seen in years. She of course got a good laugh.
Every once in a while you meet someone that is in that category of someone that is more like a biological sister. That would be Margaret. I met her at college too. She was a year ahead of me and had quite a good influence on me. I matured a bit, calmed down, studied. When I talk to her, after long stretches of not talking to her, it’s as if we had just spoken with one another. We have a nice comfortable friendship - like finding your favorite jeans you’d thought long gone in the back of your closet, you put them on and by golly they still fit.
When I moved up here I made a few friends at work but none like my friend Rose. We met while working at Camelot Music. I don’t think she and I knew what to make of each other. Until the day she was describing her bathroom. It was about time for Hallmark to release the Christmas ornaments and she was awaiting the flamingos. Pink of course. She had decorated her bathroom in everglades I guess and wanted about 5 flamingos to hang from every other ring on her shower curtain (it actually looked pretty cool). She looked at three us of standing there telling us and she was downright giddy. Remembering my recent trip to Kmart I looked at her and said “And to think I was excited when I found a toilet brush to match my curtains!” She laughed and a friendship was born. And we have followed that pattern ever since.
Speaking of work friends, I met Ann at Child and Family Services. After grant funding shut down our division, we met weekly at a local coffee shop to talk about writing, different things Alpena could use (a children’s museum), and life in general. She moved forever ago, back to the UP where she and her husband lived once before. I miss her.
Bonnie is my sister in law. My husband’s sister and not someone I was particularly close too till quite recently. We had always gotten along, but we have both been helping my mother in law. My mother in law is not helpless, but like everyone, she needs a little help, and as she gets older, she needs a little more. Bonnie and I are on the same page most times and have an easy friendship. I am, I must say, one of the lucky few who enjoy all my in-laws.
I have more sisters in life and I could fill a book with them and what they have done for me. It’s important, having other women in your life. They show us things within ourselves we sometimes don’t know we have in us – how to love, how to laugh, how to cry and how to grieve. We need them – they need us. It’s how we get by.
If you don’t have at least one sister, find one. You won’t be sorry.
That email I mentioned before ended with the following and it is too good not to pass along:
Time passes. Life happens.
Distance separates. Children grow up.
Jobs come and go. Love waxes and wanes.
Men don't do what they're supposed to do.
Hearts break. Parents die.
Colleagues forget favors. Careers end.
BUT.........
Sisters are there, no matter how much time and how many miles are between you. A girlfriend is never farther away than needing her can reach.
When you have to walk that lonesome valley by yourself, the women in your life will be on the valley's rim, cheering you on, praying for you, pulling for you, intervening on your behalf, and waiting with open arms at the valley's end.
Sometimes, they will even break the rules and walk beside you...Or come in and carry you out.
Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters, daughters-in- law, sisters, sisters-in-law, Mothers, Grandmothers, aunties, nieces, cousins, and extended family, all bless our life!
The world wouldn't be the same without women, and neither would I. When we began this adventure called womanhood, we had no idea of the incredible joys or sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we would need each other.
Have a good week – and call someone you haven’t heard from in a while – sometimes it really is like that pair of jeans!
First, my real sister, Linda. Bound biologically; we are, for the most part, opposites. I’m young – she’s old (she reads this), I’m more interested in sports, she computers; I’m married, she’s divorced. If we had met randomly at work or at school, we would simply have passed one another by, nodded politely and kept going. I am so glad fate and biology brought us together. She keeps me true to myself and she takes care of me. Like only a sister can.
Next, I’d like you to meet Trish. This is my niece, the aforementioned sister’s daughter. She is actually closer in age to me – eight years difference – than my sister – twelve. She was the first baby I had ever been around and she is actually more like me than anyone I know. We devour books, hold English degrees – mine English Communications, hers English Language Arts with a Masters in English Secondary Education, love our family and are firm believers in the importance of an education. I adore this girl; the little girl she was, the woman she is. I am so proud of her.
You would have to meet Sharon – a friend from college. Sounds trite calling her that - a friend – no formality like best friend, good friend. They are all that to me – that is assumed I guess. Sharon and I share a love of music and laughter. She is the one who I can be the most honest with when I am sad or having a rough go of it and I am that for her. But I tell you this – no one can make me laugh like she does and no one laughs harder at my foibles – planned or unplanned. Like our last Alumni Weekend this past fall. I needed a new bra. Apparently everyone in Adrian in my size did too because while I could find sizes smaller and larger, I couldn’t find my size. Except at Dollar General. Suffice to say, do not buy a bra at that store. Every time I stood up to say hi or hug someone, my bra slid up to my neck. And I do not mean in the back. I sat most of the night politely waving to people I hadn’t seen in years. She of course got a good laugh.
Every once in a while you meet someone that is in that category of someone that is more like a biological sister. That would be Margaret. I met her at college too. She was a year ahead of me and had quite a good influence on me. I matured a bit, calmed down, studied. When I talk to her, after long stretches of not talking to her, it’s as if we had just spoken with one another. We have a nice comfortable friendship - like finding your favorite jeans you’d thought long gone in the back of your closet, you put them on and by golly they still fit.
When I moved up here I made a few friends at work but none like my friend Rose. We met while working at Camelot Music. I don’t think she and I knew what to make of each other. Until the day she was describing her bathroom. It was about time for Hallmark to release the Christmas ornaments and she was awaiting the flamingos. Pink of course. She had decorated her bathroom in everglades I guess and wanted about 5 flamingos to hang from every other ring on her shower curtain (it actually looked pretty cool). She looked at three us of standing there telling us and she was downright giddy. Remembering my recent trip to Kmart I looked at her and said “And to think I was excited when I found a toilet brush to match my curtains!” She laughed and a friendship was born. And we have followed that pattern ever since.
Speaking of work friends, I met Ann at Child and Family Services. After grant funding shut down our division, we met weekly at a local coffee shop to talk about writing, different things Alpena could use (a children’s museum), and life in general. She moved forever ago, back to the UP where she and her husband lived once before. I miss her.
Bonnie is my sister in law. My husband’s sister and not someone I was particularly close too till quite recently. We had always gotten along, but we have both been helping my mother in law. My mother in law is not helpless, but like everyone, she needs a little help, and as she gets older, she needs a little more. Bonnie and I are on the same page most times and have an easy friendship. I am, I must say, one of the lucky few who enjoy all my in-laws.
I have more sisters in life and I could fill a book with them and what they have done for me. It’s important, having other women in your life. They show us things within ourselves we sometimes don’t know we have in us – how to love, how to laugh, how to cry and how to grieve. We need them – they need us. It’s how we get by.
If you don’t have at least one sister, find one. You won’t be sorry.
That email I mentioned before ended with the following and it is too good not to pass along:
Time passes. Life happens.
Distance separates. Children grow up.
Jobs come and go. Love waxes and wanes.
Men don't do what they're supposed to do.
Hearts break. Parents die.
Colleagues forget favors. Careers end.
BUT.........
Sisters are there, no matter how much time and how many miles are between you. A girlfriend is never farther away than needing her can reach.
When you have to walk that lonesome valley by yourself, the women in your life will be on the valley's rim, cheering you on, praying for you, pulling for you, intervening on your behalf, and waiting with open arms at the valley's end.
Sometimes, they will even break the rules and walk beside you...Or come in and carry you out.
Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters, daughters-in- law, sisters, sisters-in-law, Mothers, Grandmothers, aunties, nieces, cousins, and extended family, all bless our life!
The world wouldn't be the same without women, and neither would I. When we began this adventure called womanhood, we had no idea of the incredible joys or sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we would need each other.
Have a good week – and call someone you haven’t heard from in a while – sometimes it really is like that pair of jeans!
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