Thoughts from January 26, 2018

I commonly hit a wall. And by that I mean I’m always hitting a wall. But I’m going to look at that wall and I’m going to say WALL, fuck you. And I’m gonna have to get over wanting my work to be amazing and just know if I am honestly me it will be amazing (maybe). 

In my junior year of high school when we are all trying to decide where we wanted to go to college, in preparation for the senioritis that was about to hit, so many people, including myself, asked if I’d apply to go to art school. 

I loved art. I still love art. I’m kind of underdeveloped when it comes to art, always wishing I could do portraits like my grandfather, but I’ve got an eye for shapes and shadows knowing that’s all things really are. We are all just shapes and shadows, our image being formed by light. 

Anyway, enough with that artsy fartsy observation. ART. Or anything that you’re talented at for that matter. I had a ton of talent. I still do. But what I’m trying to get to is that when I felt pressured to perform it was like walking straight into a pothole, my brain startled and my foot failing to understand I had to take a bigger step, clearly tripping and smashing face first into the ground. Aka a fancy way of saying I’d get stuck. Trip, fall, whatever. 

Some could say that I'd “hit a wall” and subsequently what I think I’ve also done is build a wall. I am literally scared to death of being good at what I can naturally do. 

Instead, I’ve successfully wiggled myself into size zero legal assistant pants over the last 18 years, because apparently, it was easier than finding a way around the creative wall, through the wall, up the wall, etc. 

I am good at being told what to do and I’m also really good at producing what has been asked of me. 

A real artist of life, I tell ya. You request, I produce/create what you’re looking for. I am going to stop comparing my legal assistant skills to any real artistry RIGHT NOW because it will be my main excuse to stay in this position. And also offensive to my actual talent.  

I look at a picture and I can reproduce it. Some people wish they could do that. 

I can hear a song and reproduce it on a piano. Some people wish they could do that. 

I think I was trying to get to something here... Right so, when it came time to apply to colleges I did toy with the idea of going to art school. Well, not toy, deep down it’s all I wanted. I wanted Parsons or The New School or Adelphi or whatever. 

Two of my art teachers, Mr. Z and Mr. Pena both encouraged me to put together a portfolio. 

That portfolio sits under my guest room bed, incomplete and collecting dust along with all the other artwork I seem to hold onto so that I can prove to people one day that there was a time I had talent. 

Most of my talent is stuck under a bed or inside a secret compartment collecting dust. Like the sheet music warmly snuggled inside the piano bench that resides appropriately beneath the piano in my living room. The piano my mother said I could take from home now that my sister had moved out. The piano my wife researched movers for and a television mounter for so that we could have the space in our New York City apartment to fit the electronic ivory upright from the 90s.

Fossils of a past life. And only I am the one who has the control to make them extinct, keep them extinct.  

I imagine the wall I've built, grey cinderblocks neatly stacked, the cement seeped out layer by layer and I swiftly wiped away the overflow with a mason's hand tool. It stands between me and the land of my talent and success. It is doodled on, graffitied on, and the spray paint cans sit at my feet. All this done with my own two hands. - January 26, 2018.

Thankful for a New Strength

When I told my boss I was writing a memoir and pitching it to agents he said “You’re writing a memoir?! You’re so young!” He went on to question how could I have so much to write about at this young age.

I didn’t get into it because he only spends so much time engaged with me before he needs to check his emails.

My boss is a good person and I forgive him for this moment because he only knows me so much, he most certainly does not know me well. But I don’t forgive myself for questioning whether I actually DID have something to write about after he said it.

My whole life has been a “but who am I to deserve that?” Or “I’m probably not good enough.” It’s so easy to tilt in that direction still.

But telling people I was going to a book conference and agent pitch slam not only gave me accountability, it also gave me a drop of hope in my puddle of self doubt.

In the moments that I believe my story is important to tell I simultaneous believe I have worth, and coming from someone who was taught that her talents weren’t worth a dime, this is an entire overall personal transformation I didn’t see coming.

When people ask me what’s taking so long and I make excuses about time and “it’s hard” well, I could do better on making the time but damn, it IS hard. I sometimes find myself lightheaded and emotional after reliving some painful experiences. Putting them on paper conjures ghosts, rips open wounds and resurfaces scars.

But just like losing my 85lbs and transforming my body physically years ago, anything worth doing, is hard. Anything you want bad enough will push you to your limits, make you feel uncomfortable and without question, ultimately change you.

This Thanksgiving, in addition to the usual list of things I’m thankful for, I am especially thankful for the personal strength I’ve had to slowly push over barriers I’ve set up in my life and for the support from my wife, my friends and family in my recent strides towards accomplishing this ginormous task of writing my story and preparing it to share with the world. 

The Truth Is

The truth is, we've just kept going.

The truth is, even though we have, we have all never been the same.

Yesterday, I stood on the subway platform which was incredibly crowded. It was the end of the day and the countdown clock indicated I'd be waiting at least 10 minutes for a train at rush hour.

I realized I wouldn't make the first train coming, I'd have to wait for the second and I was fine with that. I stayed back from the crowd by the platform edge at the 51st Street Station, chose my spot against the brick wall with a reasonable amount of space between myself and the next commuter. Droves of people were coming through the station to find their place.

A gentleman with a distressed energy about him stumbled towards the brick wall and landed between me and another guy with a hitchhiker backpack on. The distressed man was awkwardly close to the hitchhiker leaning on the wall facing him.

This alarmed me, immediately. Why would he just stop right here, right like this, so close? I noticed he had been holding something in his hand, what was in his hands? Was it a bag? I noticed he had on some kind of jacket, how big was his jacket? Was there something under the jacket? Was it a bomb?

I took note of the date.
It was 9/10.
It was a crowded subway platform.
It is 2018.

I imagined a detonation. I wondered if I would feel any pain or if it would be instant that I would die. The truth is, this is the world we live in.

The truth is, I know I am not the only one who lives with these thoughts, and not just during this time of year.

And the truth is, I do not know the pain of losing a loved one on September 11, 2001 but I do feel pain each year for a dear friend who will live with the loss of her loved one in these tragic events, forever. And then the pain cascades down to thoughts of the thousands upon thousands of strangers I may never meet who suffer the pain each year. I say a quiet prayer for them.

And even though I know our world will never go back to the way it was, I pray for it anyway.

Goal-Getter

The disappointments.

The pressure.

The need to fulfill other people's ideas of where I should be right now in life.

I am a lot of what my family did not expect me to be when I came into this world 36 years ago.

I rent, I do not own, my home.

I married a woman.

I am childless.

After seven years of marriage, I expected to have kids by now but that was an old life plan that was simple and basic.

The goal was to lose the massive amount of weight I was carrying around for years, be a fit, pretty pregnant lady and have a baby that looked just like me. Or at least had all my hair and olive skin. And maybe two at once (because twins run in my family)! Own a home. Have a backyard. Have a good paying job. That was the goal, that was the plan.

What I didn't realize is that reaching the goal of losing the weight opened my eyes to see so many opportunities that I had yet to seize. It gave me a new confidence that I could do anything I put my mind to and so I had the urge to pursue dreams I put aside, and so did my wife, the queen of 'dreams come true.'

And so there's the the age old philosophy of "the time is now [because you won't be able to do this once you start having kids]."

But like an old car with "JUST MARRIED" painted on the back of it, as we drove away down "Dream Street" I felt my family waving goodbye, staring in judgment for my choice, and that society had tied on strings of cans to the back that rattled and echoed these lovely sentiments:

"But aren't you going to have kids?"
"Don't forget you're getting older!"
"Your time is running out to have a child!"

And now, a short story about conformity:

In my first 18 years on this earth I followed my parents guidance and did what was "best." But conforming to norms always made me feel uneasy, made my gut queasy.

The first time I tried to conform was when I pretended an emotional relationship with a female teacher was just because we were "close" and I made up a fake crush on one of the most popular boys in school, because it's what I should've been doing like all the other girls.

I didn't give a shit about that boy. I gave all the shits about that teacher.

Alone in the year 2000, at 18, I had to struggle and ultimately decide to be brave enough to say my happiness was overall more important than what other people were going to think about me loving unconventionally and labeling myself as a lesbian. And if I was rejected by my family it wasn't going to kill me. I'd find a way to survive. They wouldn’t find out for another year and a half.

I did, however, during that same time, take their advice and go conventional on what to study in college. I submitted to the safe route of studying business marketing convincing myself I'd go into advertising and BE CREATIVE in a business setting.

And I had in the back of my mind what my father said, that my stepmother had a stable, good paying job as a legal secretary and I might want to considering "just doing that" and "just keep it simple" yet it never made any sense to me that he always said "make sure you do what you love because you'll be doing it for the rest of your life."

What I loved doing was unconventional - art and music - unstable and unsafe.

I worked as a file clerk in a small law office all through college and I obtained a massive amount of experience. I graduated with my Business Marketing degree and entry level pay in that industry was pennies and now, 18 years later, I have a very good, well paying job at the worlds richest law firm, as a Practice Assistant.

That is what I am now: I am paper, I am black and white. I am e-mails. I am phone messages. I am a travel coordinator for 40 hours a week. I conformed instead of going with my gut.

I am very happy that I take home a good paycheck and I have an incredible set of bosses and wonderfully supportive coworkers. I take none of it for granted.

But now I am making up for lost time. Now, I am going with my gut and finally pursuing dreams that could've been built on for years at this point. And frankly, it’s now, or probably never (maybe in retirement).

But what it does mean is that I'm not conforming anymore. I gave that a good ol' college try.

I am in the business of trying not to look back and regret what I have not yet done. And I have to stay the course. I won’t just toss this all aside because my time is running out to give birth to a child.

That doesn't mean I won't own a home, and if I don’t it won’t make me a failure.

It doesn't mean I won't have kids, and if I don’t it won’t be the end of the world.

It doesn't mean I won't have a good paying job, well, because I’m not about that life.

And just as I did way back at the age of 18, I struggle with knowing I am living very unconventionally than what my family has done for generations. And I have to release myself from thinking they're judging me.

In a strange twist, I was on the phone with my 85 year old great aunt yesterday. She is the last of the old generation in my family. I was very consciously anticipating her asking me when we were going to slow down in response to me telling her all the activities we had done this summer. And so I made sure to say, "I know, we should probably settle down soon." She responded, "You'll know when its time, honey. You have to do these things now. You have to make sure you do it all. Because once the kids come, you don't want to feel like you missed out on something before they were around. When the time is right, that's when it matters."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. To my surprise, the universe chose the person I expected the least to give me the support I'd been looking for.

From the Pit of Hell

This summer might be the hottest I can remember in the great city of New York.

I am thankful this morning that despite missing my subway there was one just a minute behind it.

If you don't know what it's like to stand on a subway platform in the summer, let me tell you a little bit about it:

Today, specifically, walking out the door felt like stepping into a pre-heating oven, thereabouts 125 humid-degrees.

As you approach your subway station, you realize you've been moseying and pick up the pace only to find the dreaded "yep, you've missed the train" crowd pouring out of the subway in the opposite direction you're going. As you take the steps further into Dante's lair, you pray to any God that can hear you, that a) the train is being held in the station and you can still get on it or b) the countdown clock might say the next one is just 2 minutes away.

In my case this morning, I heard my fate-to-wait when the train announced "stand clear of the closing doors" right before I hit the last step into the station. I glanced up at the countdown clock, lit up in green digitized words and numbers, first I see a glowing "6 min" and think "please, no" and then flashes "1. Brooklyn Bridge 2 Min"  I wipe the sweat from my brow (just figuratively because there's no use in doing that as I will just continue to drip sweat anyway), swipe my Metro Card and walk briskly to my spot on the platform. The oncoming train's lights illuminate the tunnel sooner than expected and I am thankful for a seat in an air conditioned car. And now, I'm writing this.

LET US DISCUSS SHOULD I HAVE LEFT A MOMENT LATER WHAT MY LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE:
Stepping down into the subway on any hot day, no matter the temperature, and having to wait more than two minutes for a train feels like I'm Gretel in the witch's oven, pre-heat buzzer beeping at 500 degrees. Bitch is baking some quick cookies that are about to burn. And I don't mean I'll get out of here lightly browned and ready to eat. Imma be a smelly, sweat dripping mess who just took a shower but needs another and prays she remembered to put deodorant on.

With that said, my train stop is next. Come visit New York. In the fall, winter or spring.

Everything’s As If We Never Said Goodbye

:::turns on lights:::



:::pulls sheet off desk and typewriter:::



:::dust goes flying:::



Well. Looks like I've got a little cleaning up to do in here and I left my Swiffer at home today.

I'm trying to remember why I stopped coming here. Why I stopped sharing my experiences in almost-real-time. But, no use in that now, I'll just have to catch you up along the way.



I've bored myself in the last few paragraphs, or maybe it's just the subway train rocking me back to sleep before I have to be wide eyed and bushy tailed for a summer Monday, unsure. But it's also frigid AF on this train, even with my denim jacket on.



So anyway, so many times I've wanted to share thoughts and feelings since my last post in 2012, but I wasn't sure of my blog username and password or if this place still existed (Did google delete me? Did blogspot go kablooey? For anyone who remembers GEOCITIES web hosting circa the 90's, you know my concerns are real) or even how to find it again. BUT a little push from my wife and friends, a little time on a Sunday afternoon, and here I am again!



Six whirlwind years have gone by. There have been ups and downs both on the scale and in life overall and I'm feeling like I'm on an upswing again due to the fact that I'm pushing towards a goal/dream these days - more on that later.



I'm back and (maybe) better than ever - you decide! But all that matters is I'm back!



P.S. This blog title is an homage to a song from the musical Sunset Boulevard. Video below if you have an attention span to listen or watch Glenn Close and all her Norma Desmond deranged glory.

How much did you gain?

The first thing people say to me when they see me for the first time in a long time is "OH MY GOD, HOW MUCH DID YOU LOSE?"

But oh, dearies, its not about what i've lost its what i've gained.

Its the first time in my life that i feel i am winning the fight.  Each morning i get on the scale (I need this reality check every day. its a personal choice) and now only 8 pounds away to my final goal, each pound lost is another punch square between the eyes of this fat fight, i'm only seconds away to hearing the bell ring, my fist being forced high up into the air, sweat dripping down every inch of my body, and the referee declaring me the winner. Its happening.  

And with this winning fight - I've gained strength - mental and physical.  I'm there with the best of them when sitting in front of a plate of cookies and brownies - grabbing for the best looking, glistening baked good. But i'm not grabbing it to make me feel better - i'm grabbing it because dammit it tastes freaking amazing.

I've gained self worth, confidence in an amount beyond i've ever imagined - i still need work though, i still can't get on a stage without feeling as if i am going into cardiac arrest (however that might feel, i'm pretty sure i'm feeling it with my stage fright)  but today i could walk through a room of strangers with my head up without fear of being stared at, of being different. We went to our first kettlebell class today in the city.  Newbies. I didn't think once that i didn't belong, that i couldn't keep up with the pros, that i didn't look good in my workout clothes, that being a new face was a bad/awkward thing. Today I was excited about being the new face, not nervous, not awkward, not scared, not running the other way. Yeah, this is me now. Whoever you knew before - she's not here.  And don't ask me where she went.    

I have gained this sense of "i'm just like everyone else" but - when i see overweight people i still think we are the same. i used to think i was extremely different because i was fat - i felt like an outcast to society. But i see overweight people and i don't feel that way about them.  I know for a fact there are people out there who are assholes and treat overweight people like outcasts - everyone should live "different" for a day.  It should be a requirement to function in society. Feel free to be a jackass after you've lived "different" then we know you're just a true jackass and there is no help for you.

My brain is finally catching up to the mirror. 

But i still have a lot to get through.  It can't stop after 8 pounds. - not the weight loss silly - the gaining of strength, confidence, striving for the best for my life and my family. 

I know there's a handful of you who've seen it deep down in me all along. No need to look deep down any further. Thank you <3

When you wish upon a star

About a year ago I gave up on myself, I gave up on a dream.. I said Hey, you, size 18/20, 180lbs. Me and you are going to be best friends forever. I know that I’ve tried to get rid of you for the past 13 years and you just don’t seem to want to leave me so you know, I’m in it for the long haul with you. Haul being the key word.



It was my dream to be normally beautiful. I remember when I was younger telling my mom “mommy when I dream at night, i’m skinny in my dreams, so I know one day I will be skinny” - maybe I was 13 years old when I said this. horrendous.



I’m on the verge of 30, I love my friends and when I walked into the elevator the other day I saw a coworker that I hadn’t seen in months and she said “omg! you’re skinny!! omg!”



By golly. I think I’ve finally got it. But how in the world….??



After resigning myself to being a chubb-o for the rest of my life I continued to attend the gym based on the fact that Michelle Marie Cast had a goal and she never gave up on it. I mean, I wanted to spend time with my wife so, okay, I’ll go to the gym with her. You know we were into spin class - I only went to spin class the first time because I was trying to be “spontaneous” and less selfish and less of a control freak and supportive of Michelle’s efforts.



Weight loss aside - here are a few lessons for the day, which I believe are courtesy or MMCast:

1. Michelle Marie Cast is the definition of inspiration

2. Never, ever, ever give up on a dream.

3. Determination and dedication will get you ANYWHERE you want to go.



Mirror, mirror on the wall - I don’t even care who is the fairest of them all. I used to care. I used to care A LOT because I was severely insecure. (excuse me while I vomit, in my mouth). Nothing wrong with being severely insecure, if that’s you’re thing and you’re happy about it. But… SPOILER ALERT you’re not happy about it.



I couldn't believe what I allowed myself to do.  Who did I think I was, giving up on myself? God put me on his green earth to just say “okay, whatever” I’m good with this unhealthy body and insecure attitude. NO. i don't think so.


I know I’ve said I’m making it all happen, I’m going for all my goals but I can't do that at once. And to be perfectly honest with myself, I just came to realize last night that this is one of my dreams and I’ve made it come true. Looking the way I do, being as healthy as I am, being 99% happy in my own skin - huge dream…came true.



As I approach my goal weight I hope I can find the confidence and the drive to really push forward to the next goal…..and the next goal could involve any of the following: rejection, rejection, rejection.



Here’s to overcoming the fear of rejection! :::crawls under her desk::::

shameful swee

i feel shame. i have not posted since February 10th!? that's kind of disgusting and i feel shame. can't say that much has changed. life is still good and i'm a little smaller than i was on february 10th. (hurray!) i've been wanting to write meaningful things...but i am not in the mood to expose myself in such a way. so let me touch upon a few other random things: its spring. lets face it, it was never really winter it was just "Falter" which is fall + winter. and then towards the end of february beginning of march it was Sprinter. a little bit of Spring and winter. Now, the centipedes are beginning to crawl up from the basement and slowly invade, EARLY. With Falter and Sprinter we get a lot of people either bitching about it "being too cold" when it was really only 45 degrees at its worst or "its too warm too soon." * * * * in other news...i got a migraine today. blerg.

neat!

The city is so exciting. Today I saw Chelsea clinton. She and her dad, Bill were at my office. she is so pretty and was wearing a fabulous outfit and has awesome hair. Apparently at the end of the day, unknown to me, she was in the bathroom on my floor when I had to go. But I had to hold it because I couldn't leave my work space unattended. So Ileana came back and she told me this news. I saw her leave the floor and went to the bathroom to finally end my pee dance. At the sinks washing my hands I wondered, me and Chelsea at the sinks together, what would I say? Would I make a big deal? Probably not. Would I be smirking? Probably. So what would I say? Would I offer her a cup of the firm provided listerine? No. I noticed the counter was splattered with it. Gross. I don't think Chelsea would've left Listerine splatter. I would probably try to say hello, maybe comment on her hair color which was fantastic. I didn't see her shoes otherwise that would be my next choice of conversation. That was how my day ended. Well not exactly. Then I saw two rats playing and talking to eachother in the subway. And I laughed out loud. I told you, never a dull moment.

Big fish, small pond, if you will.

So we had a wonderful evening hanging out with two great friends of ours. Two people i used to see on a daily basis, 40 hours per week. After recalling some things from our short past of 2-1/2 years as also coworkers there came a lot of feelings.

first of all, i can't believe it was only 2-1/2 years. i feel like i know these girls forever.

second of all, it felt like an eternity that i had worked there.

third of all, i have done a complete 360 since leaving there. 360 degrees now walking in a extremely positive direction.

The third really hit me. I began to feel a lot of regret - and not for the good i remember, the good that i still have in my life, (the people i still keep in touch with) but for so much of the rest of it. The person i was. I think about how hard it was to leave but yet i look back at that me and that me knew the obvious decision was to break free of it.

So the regret. I regretted getting wrapped up in the social drama of it all. I felt like i had instantly fit in and this was a first for me. It was like i was re-doing high school as a popular kid and i really went with it. In the moment of the regret i couldn't think of anything good about the entire experience. looking back that person was not the happy me that i am now, not even close and it was so sad to my new self.

I wasn't going to bring it up on the ride home but the regret was eating away at me. I turned to mish and thanked her for all her encouragement for me to move onto this new place i am now. And then i told her about my feelings of regret of the past.

Mish shed some light on it like i knew she would explaining to me that it was an important stepping stone. that i wouldn't be able to have gotten this current job had i not worked through those last 2-1/2 years learning lessons both good and bad. learning about myself, learning about how other people work, who to stay away from and how to work it.

I guess its always true, that we are all where we need to be at this moment and the past is there to help shape our future. I also think the moral of my story is, talk to mish if you ever want to feel better about yourself ;)

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

Yesterday morning my coworkers and I were discussing my weight loss goals and when I told them where id like to be by April 27th one of them asked me "have you ever been at that weight before?" and i said "maybe when i was in like 5th grade" and she pointed out "so you don't even know what you're going to look like!?"

and then i had a mini inner freak out moment.

My entire life i'd been told "omg what a gorgeous face!" Even though this comes off as half an insult to a fat girl, i would ride this wave of flattery and i'd ride it for as long as i could - after all, my hair and my face were all i really had as a first impression (so sad) before i opened my mouth, which if you know me well, you know i can be shy and quiet at times.

So now i'm like omg, is this weight loss thing going to have to bring an adjustment in my physical appearance?

Mirror, mirror on the wall, i thought i'd be the fairest of them all! will the lesson of its whats on the inside that counts continue to haunt me? Cause b*tch, i am SICK and tired of trying to show my insides to get me more credit. I'd thought this becoming thin thing would be my ticket to anything i wanted in life....Being fat sucks in the society aspect of things.

Or maybe...its my insecurities that's made it suck.

Michelle Cast will tell me my size has never kept me from being who i am or getting things i want. Michelle Cast has a supersize order of confidence.

I think i have a lot of things to work on besides losing the poundage. Losing the poundage is probably the "easiest" of them all. we all know learning the truth about our inner selves and fixing that is the hardest....this blog is a real bummer.

2 girls, 2 yoga mats and a cat.

This is a workout in the Cast household.

We decide after a long day of running around that we’d do some 30 day shred workout.

First things first – Amber could be sleeping in the deepest depths of the earth but when she hears Jillian Michaels on the TV she is awake and on the prowl.

Our livingroom is big for a Queens apartment but once you fit in 2 yoga mats and 2 girls doing jump jacks – I mean we make it work but there isn’t room for 2 girls, 2 yoga mats, jumping jacks and a cat.

Amber does her own workout when we do our workout. Although, she is most of the time, phoning it in.

When we are down on the yoga mats doing abs, she rolls onto her back and does her stretching.

When we do jumping jacks, she lays smack in the middle of the rug, stares up at us with jealous eyes wishing she could do the same.

I am suddenly imagining her with a sweatband around her little head and little wrist bands around her paws.

She swats at my hand weights, sits on the yoga mats while they are not in use.

She finds her toy mouse and swats it across the workout floor aka livingroom just beating each step of our butt-kicks. How she does it, i'll never know.

Last night i felt the need to do my own modified workout of this DVD. My arms hurt so bad i couldn't lift them over my head. So while michelle was using hand weights and working lower body at the same time, i was only doing squats. And while michelle was doing full on jumping jacks, i was just kicking my feet out.

Needless to say i thought this workout was going to be a bust. Surprisingly, all of my body hurts today! YAY!! and i thought i was phoning it in!

Then we ate the soup we made. The soup made me feel like 4 thousand lbs. but it was good! i'm skipping the soup tonight.

Did you just drink bad milk?

The gym's people watching quality is at its peak these days with all the Resolutioners in attendance. These people could be ones who have had memberships and are resolving to finally put their money to good use, or there are the newbies.

Being a newbie at our gym is hard. We were not so thrilled by the response of regulars to us. First of all, we weren't Resolutioners so we should've been welcomed differently. Second of all, yeah. that's all.

So what is difficult is everyone has a face on, the regulars. Everyone. I don't know if its because no one wants to be there really?...or they just have faces on. Like they drank curdled milk type faces.

The Resolutioners/newbies: hanging around in old sweats, beat up sneakers, thought they could just come here and shelp around because A) they belonged to Planet Fitness previously and never attended except on free pizza night or B) they are Resolutioners and the last time they worked out was with Jane Fonda, when Jane Fonda was young.

The newbies look around at the curdled milk faces who push and shove in the locker room, who hold weight equipment and spin bikes with a singular bottle, which could be empty or full or just from the garbage, who are all fancy with their fancy gym pants, tank tops and fashionable sneakers, who use the sauna, jacuzzi, shower and hair dryer in the locker room and who talk to Maria, the locker room attendant and are jealous that Maria is nice to the regulars and not the newbies.

The regulars are also interesting. The women at least. I witnessed this conversation quite a few times in the past week:

"oh! you haven't been in class lately! where HAVE you been?" woman wrapped in towel and wet hair says to woman who just arrived (please note, these are all voices with accents because we live in the most diverse neighborhood known to man)

"Oh yeah, i know, yeah...you know. I need to change it up"

"Oh you've been missing such good classes" woman in towel persisting to make sure the other one feels fat and lazy.

Why do women do this?

"are you going to spin? what are you doing tonight?" Woman half way out the door says to another

"yeah i'm going, are you?"

"NO. UGH. Didn't you hear? the schedule is all changed" (please add 15x's the attitude when reading, like what is this woman's problem!?)

"Oh really? i'm still going to go"

"I don't know why you would."

SERIOUSLY!? these people aren't even real friends! Stop drinking curdled milk and spreading your disgust around!! No one cares! And to the woman in the towel, keep it on! because i didn't need to see your bare ass for the 15 minutes it took me to get to my locker, load my locker, adjust my heart rate monitor strap and get out of the corner i was shoved into by other women in towels!!!

Then, we're out in the field, as i like to call it. Out of the locker room.

There is one woman who does abs all night, i swear. She jumps from the treadmill to the ab machine and she does it all for hours with her hair down.

My other favorite, the girls in full length, skin tight, head to toe (or shall i say breast to calf) leotard onesies. You're just ASKING, BEGGING to be objectified by EVERY guy in the gym. and i guess that's just what they are there for.

But then there is Tamale. She is what i strive to be. Tamale is hot, and michelle agrees, don't let her fool you!! Obvs we named her Tamale. She wears these awesome sweatpants that are baggy but fit her waist perfectly and then she wears a ribbed tank. CLASSIC gym beauty. Dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin. Obviously there to work out but doesn't need to flaunt it in a onesie. And the best part about her is that she's got a gorgeous face. She's not a butter!!! I was a little self conscious one night when i saw her take our spin class, not gonna lie!

i'm sorry, was that last paragraph completely inappropriate?

I could go on literally forever on this. But i won't!

Good night :)

whoa.

In the last year I've undergone so many changes. I've let go of so much hurt and pain from my past. Its kind of always been this pain and hurt that's fueled my writing. Since this new found freedom of the old me, I am at a loss for words...and a question has presented itself: Is happiness really interesting to read?

"Merry Christmas! I Love My Fam."

I'm turning 30...i love my friends.

Both of these things are true. But i did not come up with this myself. I have Kris Jenner/Kardashian to thank.

I begin this blog in this way because the punchline is stuck in my head.

Little Christmas 2012.

We began the night with a Grammie special toast (for those who don't know, Grammie's drink was always a Screwdriver) but with the absence of orange juice, Cat improvised with orange soda...No matter how many times the story gets told, it never gets old, we then talk about how we were never allowed to drink Grammie's juice as kids and the one time Grammie put her screwdriver in a sippie cup and my older brother Tommy had his first run in with alcohol at like the age of 1.

We all watched Kris Jenner/Kardashian's "I Love My Friends" music video together and with no surprise it was the song of the night, filling in whatever words fit appropriately to the current situation. (if you have not seen it, youtube it so you may understand). My favorite subbed line was "I LOVE BAKED CLAMS."

Michelle received "Like" and "Dislike" stamps from Cat, honoring Michelle's ability to like virtually everything on facebook, commencing everyone being stamped at least once, if not more than once on whatever skin may have been showing (back of heads, chests, hands and wrists) even my mom stamped our 90 year old aunt with it twice.

A three round game of Catch Phrase that involved 8 - 9 family members per team where we learned married couples and twins can give each other 1 word clues and an answer can be produced, all of our moms need reading glasses to play games with us now and we also learned that Trish when it was her turn, in almost a turrets fashion, could not function through without elbowing Dena and Michelle while giving her clues.

The family member roasted the most was Aunt Cathy and the most surprising roaster was Regina. After eating two bowls of only tortellini and sitting quietly at the corner of the table, Regina got up and did an entire stand-up routine on Aunt Cathy's bizarre way of functioning with her back/leg pain which included an array of outlandish grunts, body twitching and how Aunt Cathy talks to herself about it, which we all seemed to realize Aunt Cathy was the new Grammie but the difference, as Regina pointed out is "Mommy was in pain, Grammie was just weird" which resulted in tears of rolling laughter and i'm sure somewhere in heaven Grammie was doing the same.

The most disappointing part of the night was that Regina was the only person in the house that had never seen the classic movie, A League of Their Own, but Joseph Gerard knew more about the movie than anyone...i'm still concerned about this. ;)

Weaved generously in between the toast, dinner, presents, Catch Phrase, "I Love My Friends" outbursts, Aunt Cathy grunts, "Like" stamps and reciting A League of Their Own, there was incessant reenactments and quoting of the spin class which Cat and Michelle took together on Thursday night, including Cat's commentary and raving about the instructor.

This kind of Christmas is nothing new - this is just it in all its amazing-ness - and i feel like as we get older it gets better and better. The kids took over the dining room table since we've grown with our husbands/wives/significant others too big, our parents were at the "kid table" in the kitchen. Making sure everyone was seated, we were sure to say our prayer together before we ate dinner, just like our parents taught us. in the echos of our laughter and flicker of the candlelight you can still hear our kid voices in every corner of the house from Christmases past...and Auntie Donna shouting when she's realizes after Auntie Cathy left that she stole the camel from her Nativity scene, AGAIN.

Reality bites.

"heavy! heavy!" the instructor called out. "this is Spin class, this is not supposed to be easy!" dear lord, no kidding. i'd been trying to drop from the weight i was at for years. i'd ballooned up and lost, lost a lot and then ballooned up again.

"come on, keep pace, you can do it, push yourself!" The song was slow and gripping. The instant it had come on i was like ohhhh, total classic, good song!

the harder i pushed, the song pushed on and it pushed its way under my skin. The instructor told us to close our eyes and concentrate to push through the resistance. Every time i shut my eyes, it was just me, the words and the pain.

"Well in case you failed to notice, In case you failed to see, This is my heart bleeding before you, This is me down on my knees, and...These foolish games are tearing me apart, And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart. You're breaking my heart."

With my eyes shut and Jewel singing away, behind my eye lids i could only see one thing. It was me, not more than 14 or 15 years old and the words echoed through the memory

- you're going to miss out being your size. things happen in high school and being your size, its not something you'll participate in, you won't be part of that being the weight you are. -

it was so painful, the resistance, the words of the song, the vision of the memory - i heard the instructor through the memory, no longer yelling, just encouraging. tears began were streaming down my face, fast.

It hurt to watch the memory. I opened my eyes but it hurt too much to watch myself pedal. I closed my eyes again, boom, the memory replayed like a recurring bad dream in the same night. Instead of fighting it, i allowed myself to feel the pain, all over, inside and out. I let 15 year old Swee be upset and feel hurt.

I'd never cried so hard, my chest heaved. The pain in my legs didn't even exist anymore. I could listen to this song on repeat, sweat, cry and pedal this hard forever.

I finally knew it, these last 80lbs I had to lose were being held onto by this 15 year old Swee, she was stuffed inside my heart and her feeling not good enough, feeling worthless.

Reality check.

I told michelle i was inspired to write - i've been inspired to write since 8:30pm and i'm only just sitting down now at 10:54. That's because we were finishing putting christmas away.

When i told Mish that i wanted to write at this unGodly hour she asked me when i was going to start writing something real. First taken aback, i said I do write about real things. and she said not that i don't love your writing but, when are you going to start writing about something real, like piecing a story together?

Still upset by this remark (not terribly upset, just a pinch), i digested it.

So much really is stuffed inside me, like a clogged up drain (sorry, only thing that came to mind, definitely could've been a worse analogy) and I realized that its painful to write about something real.

So tonight I am going to try and tie some things together. Relevant to my life currently and maybe pull up some old sludge from the drain.

Please see the next blog post for the start.

wake up!

It was a whirlwind of a week. Months of getting ready for the holiday season and my mother-in-law's big birthday. It was finally wrapping up. We rang in the New Year and only six hours after the turn of 2012, we were on our way to and from the airport to drop off our nephew Christopher for his early morning flight back to Florida.

Only really waking up after 2.5 hrs of sleep on the trip back from JFK with the sun just peeking above the horizon, I was going to miss Chris being around. I told Mish that I wished he was closer in distance so we could spend more time with him.

As we rounded a turn in the left lane on the grand central parkway in a blind spot appeared what instantly became my worst nightmare: headlights pointed at me, a car facing ongoing traffic in my lane, aka going in the wrong direction. At 65mph I only had about 150 feet to stop and all in a split second i had to 1) figure out if this was real, 2) figure out if it was moving or just stopped there, 3) could i avoid it? Its headlights fogging my vision in front of me, traffic zooming by to my right with nowhere to go, the odds were stacked against me and I had no choice, I slam on the breaks but i wasn't so sure we'd make it.

cutting it about 4 feet close enough to live, i immediately looked behind me. Someone was going to hit me now and I had to get out of the way. but if i left these people here, would they die? Would someone see them like i saw them? Or would there be a head on collision?

Traffic cleared after a moment and i maneuvered into the next lane and we left the scene. I prayed those people would be okay but i burst out crying.

Thankful I was still alive, I was okay with going to pick up some bagels for brunch and continue on with our life in 2012.

Okay, fine. We've become addicted.

There are a few reactions that come into play when thinking about one of your favorite spin instructor's last day.

Horror
Despair
Sorrow
Sadness

Michelle and I received some horrifying news. And tonight when we stopped to think about our fitness future without her, Michelle threw herself off the couch to the floor and I commenced shortness of breath and light headedness.

This is one of those things that you wouldn't understand unless you have attended all of our spin classes for the last 2 months.

Lets be honest, exercise, when you have to do it to lose weight can really suck. But when you have awesome motivators by your side, it can make it so much fun. And if you know us, you know we don't stop talking about our spin classes "rapido! rapido! faster! faster! don't cheat yourself! push yourself! this is not a ride in the park! this is spin class!"

Cat and Carla, our spin instructors, have been two major motivators these last 2-1/2 months which we are so grateful for. Whether it was just their job or they really cared, they pushed us so much farther than I ever imagined I could go. Mish and I have lost at least 10lbs in that time (if not more) and those results have been even more motivating.

I know Cat will still give us beatings...

but we are losing Carla from our successful routine and this is some serious saddness - and much luck to her because she is moving on to something she really loves - Which will be and has already started to be my focus and motivation for the new year - doing something i really love.