New Home For Sizzle

I've migrated:

http://sizzlesays.wordpress.com/

It's not exactly what I want but it isn't blogger. For that, I am grateful. I know it's a pain to update your blogroll but if you'd be so kind as to change my link on your blog, I'd appreciate it. Show me you love me by making the effort, mmmkay? ;)

Good-bye Blogger!

The End or The Beginning?

It looks like Blogger is bullying me into moving over to the "new blogger." When I logged in this morning it threatened me with "you can only do this once" in reference to not signing in using my gmail account and just skipping right to my dashboard. My gigantic fear is that my two years of blog posts will be lost to me once I make the switch. I already "accidentally" used my gmail account to log in once and none of my blog posts followed me there so I've continually signed in with my username and password, purposely avoiding the "new and improved blogger." I have not heard ONE good thing about the change.

So let's hope this isn't my last blog post.

I promise to find my way back to you. I'd miss you too much.

It's Not Going to Be Pretty

I'm self-diagnosing but I am pretty sure that I am a sugar addict.

Admitting is the first step, right?

So after Sunday's post and some more soul searching, I've decided to bite the bullet and enter sugar detox. I've been researching and picking people's brains (smart people with varying views) about it. This week, each day, I've tried to make smart choices. Maybe for the first time in my life I am not seeking perfection, rather I just want to do better.

I know I can do better.

This got me thinking: Why is it that offices are a breeding ground for crap food? It's like we all want to bring in the candy, the cupcakes, the cookies, and homemade breads so it gives us permission to over-indulge. The other day it was a co-worker's birthday and someone brought in cupcakes though the package called them "fun cakes." It was 3:30pm and I was craving a pick me up and those stupid fun cakes were taunting me. Instead of eating one (because really, they didn't look that great and frankly, if they aren't Cupcake Royale cupcakes, forget it) I emailed my friend berating the offending cupcakes and bemoaning their hold over me.

I've had a headache since yesterday but I haven't felt as hungry. I feel full before I've eaten my entire lunch. This could very well be the first step I've been looking for. Too bad I timed it with my PMS. Awesome fun for everyone within a mile of me. I've told my co-workers I'll stick a warning label on when it gets really bad.

"Warning: Sugar Addict. Day 3 of Detox. Do Not Taunt or Unwrap Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Within 10 Steps of Her."

"Ah Sugar, oh honey, honey. . .you were my candy, girl and you've got me wanting you."

Use Thought Wisely, Still

Before I reveal my answers (don't cheat and scroll down!), I have an important announcement.

Today marks the two year anniversary of my very first blog post.

(Please put on your party hat.)

I've never celebrated my blog anniversary but there's something poignant about this year. I've come a long way- not just in physical distance (Santa Cruz to Seattle) but internally too. Sure, I am not where I want to be but I'm learning to face life's challenges with more panache. The best part of blogging, for me, is not just the catharsis of sharing my feelings and experiences but sharing it with all of you. I don't know where in the hell you all came from and most of you I have never met face to face but every damn day I am SO grateful for you. Thanks for coming here. For listening. For sharing your thoughts. For being my friend.

(End Sentimentality.)

Now here's what you've all been waiting for- the answers to my true/false stories. . .

1.) TRUE. She really did have fake teeth and she really did scramble to put them in. Do you think I got this crazy all on my own? Votes: 6

2.) TRUE. And, uh, while bathing the dog, he suddenly jumped at her in her nakedness. When his paw hit her breast she thought, quite possibly, that he had ripped off her unclothed nipple because it sure as shit felt like it. Her unclothed nipple! Did your nipple just feel sympathy pain? Uh huh. Mine too. Votes: 10

3.) TRUE. And here I thought that 179 responses in one hour was impressive. Pshaw! Apparently not. But yeah, I did it. I was that bored. Those lonely, horny men? They also aren't so smart- they send cell phone numbers and pictures of their, uh, members without knowing who in the hell you are. Hmm, that'd make an interesting post... (P.S. Does this mean I have a "rep" now? Sweet!) Votes: 7

4.) TRUE. The Flatulence Offender is the same lady as the Teeth Lady in #1. Yeah, I have no problem talking to her without running to my cubicle to laugh. Or to throw up. Votes: 1

5.) FALSE. It wasn't me who came upon them, it was my neighbor though my memory has recreated the scene so vividly that I feel like I was there. And they weren't having intercourse, rather she was blowing him. I still firmly believe that safer sex is really important. That's why I carry condoms with me all the time. Ahem. Votes: 0

True or False?

Snackie told me I should, so I am.

There are four "stories" here. One is not true. Can you guess which?

1.) I once walked into a coworker's office to ask her an innocent, work-related question. She scrambled to grab something off her desk as I entered. I tried to not look but it was distracting. My eyes darted down in time to see her teeth in her hand. I had no idea she wore fake teeth, let alone that she took them out while working at her desk. I took that opportunity to quickly divert my gaze out the window and comment on the weather. She acted breezy and answered my question quickly.

I have still not really recovered.

2.) While on the phone the other night, my friend told me she bathes her dog in just a thong because he splashes too much and her clothes end up soaking wet.

That's just in her underwear.

3.) I once posted in the Casual Encounters section of Craig's List. I was bored on a Friday night and wanted to see how many responses I would get. All it said was "How do you want it?" with a photo of breasts- in a bra, mind you. No face shown.

I got 179 responses within one hour. There are a lot of lonely, horny men out there.

4.) I was in the public restroom at work the other day when someone came in and entered the stall next to me. They made quite a fuss with the toilet seat cover and the unzipping and the pulling down of underpants and what I could only discern as support hose. I heard peeing and then "pttttttttthhhhhhhhhhh." Then silence. Then more loud farting. So of course I rushed to get out of there before I would be forced to come face to face with the Flatulence Offender and have to pretend that I didn't want to laugh.

Clearly, I am an 11 year old boy.

5.) Back in college I came across a young couple as I made my way up a remote staircase that led to my street and house. They were in the middle of coitus. The girl ducked her head, averting her face from me but the young buck looked me straight in the eye and said, "Hey, how's it going?" as if they were just doing their homework or something.

I almost offered them a condom. Safer sex is really important.

The truth will be revealed in tomorrow's post!

So What Next?

How do I follow my last post?

After unburdening my load on you, my initial reaction is to write something funny and light. I'm good at funny and light. Funny and light has saved many an uncomfortable situation for me over the years. But I don't have any fluff to share with you. Writing that post took a lot out of me. Normally, I am pretty open about sharing "my stuff" but for some reason this one . . . it's all encompassing. Feeling like I don't belong in my own body- how does one escape that? You just don't. So you talk about it on your blog and hope to god you can do something proactive about it.

I really have to DO something now, don't I?

I'm trying not to over-plan it though, you know me, over-planning is my forte. If I don't take baby steps I am likely to fail and then kick myself more. Enough with the kicking! I've always struggled to understand what comes first- do I lose weight and then I love myself or do I love myself and then I lose weight? I'm not a gambler so I've always hovered in the middle with a combo pack of weight loss and self-love. But I think the trick is being able to love yourself all the time, not in spite of what you look like or because of what you look like or when you are your most thin. Those kinds of conditions only alienate you from yourself. And like I said, I want to feel like I belong in my own body.

All of your comments were so touching to read. Your support is so heartfelt. I can't thank you enough for listening and responding. One message I heard loud and clear is that we're all walking around with our own struggles. Even when we feel most alone, we aren't. Thank you for that.

At The Door

I was reading The Book of Awakening today and this spoke to me:

"Stranger still is how the very core issues we avoid return sometimes with different faces, but still we are brought full circle to them, again and again. Regardless of how we may try to skip over or sidestep what we need to face, we humbly discover that no other threshold is possible until we use our courage to open the door before us. Perhaps the oldest working truth of self-discovery is that the only way out is through. That we are returned repeatedly to the same circumstance is not always a sign of avoidance, but can mean our work around a certain issue is not done.

The thresholds go nowhere. It is we who, in our readiness and experience, keep coming back, because the soul knows only one way to fulfill itself, and that is to take in what is true."

-Mark Nepo

Ten years ago, I walked through the door. I said to myself, enough of prettying the outside of this entrance, it is time to enter. That door I opened and walked through? My first successful attempt at self-acceptance and self-love. Having recently broken up with my boyfriend of a year plus, I stopped smoking pot, stopped eating crap and actually exercised (and liked it). The result was the shedding of 60 + pounds. I was entirely focused on myself. And within that focus, a more confident, attractive me emerged. As the years have passed, I've gained the weight back and along the way, lost sight of that confidence.

People who meet me think I am confident. I am told this all the time. It's ironic because inside I'm thinking about all the ways I could be rejected. And all those reasons for the imagined rejection? My weight. Not my stubborn streak. Not my bossiness. Not my anal list making and over-organizing. Not my ability to give unsolicited advice. Not my moodiness with peaks of complete hermiting. None of that. Just. My. Fat.

I walk into every situation worried that I will be seen as incompetent because I am heavy. That I will be seen as not worth getting to know because I carry extra weight. That people will think about how I would be attractive "if only" I lost weight. I've been told that before. These fears are not unfounded. I overanticipate situations because I want to be able to hold it together. I don't want to run to the bathroom crying because someone made a joke about fat people. I don't want to be caught off guard by someone's disapproving look. I don't want to not fit in the chair or booth at the restaurant. I don't want to go get a massage at a spa and have the robe not fit. I actually waste time thinking about these things! Writing this, I realize I am more guarded then I thought. I wonder if I come off as guarded? I must or else I am a really good actress.

There are many things I don't do because I worry what people will think of my size. If I am walking around alone or if I go out to eat by myself, I am convinced people are thinking how sad it is that the fat girl is all alone and maybe if she ate more vegetables she'd lose weight and not be so sad. I eat a lot of vegetables. Vegetable consumption is not my problem. And the irony is probably no one is thinking these things or if they are, they are fleeting thoughts. What does it matter what they are thinking? I'm completely overly concerned about what everyone thinks about me. If they think I am fat, they wouldn't be wrong. I wear a size 18/20.

Do you know how scary that just was to type that number? That number somehow defines how attractive I am in my own mind. Maybe in yours too.

I am tired of holding myself prisoner in my own body. I am tired of carrying around this built in excuse to never be MORE than I am. I am sick to death of the excuses I make for not trying. I am really fucking annoyed with myself that I have let it go on so long. This is about wanting to belong... to belong inside my own body.

So I see the door this time. My hand is on the door knob. The key is unlocking the dead bolt. I'm poised to walk through. I have no idea what will happen once I cross the threshold but the time has come.

"There is no substitute for genuine risk." -Mark Nepo

Turn It Off!

I hate the song "Big Girls Don't Cry."

My loathing really makes no logical sense. It doesn't matter that the song is not about fat girls who need to buck up and not shed a tear. As a child I somehow got it into my head that that was the hidden meaning behind the song. To my credit, the lyrics are somewhat vague but reading them now, as an adult, it's clear that the guy in the song was dumped by a "mature/grown up" girl (aka "big girl") who said she didn't cry but then (silly girl) it turns out she lied and cried in her bed.

It's really a lyrical masterpiece.

This must be part of the aftermath of growing up as a chubby child. You hear a song with the word "big" in it and think "big" means fat and then internalize it as a message that you aren't allowed to cry even though people may be mean to you because you are chubby and can't wear Esprit jeans. Whatever the point of the inane song, it conjures negative feelings inside me and whenever I hear it I have to turn the song off immediately. If you sing or hum or whistle this tune around me, you are putting your life on the line.

What song do you have to turn off because it makes you cringe inside? What's your story?

*Thanks Hilly for the inspiration.