Hello chickens! It is another Friday and you all know what that means. If you don't, go visit It's Just Me, Drazil and Sheniqua for the straight skinny. And stick around and read and party in the house. And follow... If you can actually see the followers box. I sure as hell can't. Grr!
To Katie J., I am actually able to wear a few, but they are dressy and I am waiting for an occasion to present it's self. Others, hopefully soon. I don't change sizes very rapidly and with this self induced stall I have been in, well, let's just say things are even slower. And I am about ready to take myself out back and beat the shit out of myself. lol
Yes, for the record, many days I am still eating at closer to maintenance calories. I am not happy with myself right now. I haven't been on the scale. I am experiencing a lot of puff and I am just pretending it doesn't exist. And I think if I step on my scale it will eat my feet and I am scared of it. :P As usual, I am determined to stay my course. Sometimes I get so tired of my own bullshit. At least I am walking more regularly, again. So maybe there is hope for my fat ass, after all. :P :S
Okay on to BYOC. It is going to get crazy around here, today. Buckle up, kiddies. It's going to be a bumpy ride. lol
1. When is the last time you gave and got a compliment?
This happens on a regular basis on my blogs, back and forth. And they really make me feel good, let me tell you.
I have a weird relationship with compliments. They can make me exceedingly uncomfortable. I was taught, as a child that to fish for compliments or to receive them too often is vain and shows weakness of character so I grew up believing that they were, for the most part disingenuous. As I got older and heavier and my self esteem plummeted I began to see compliments as empty platitudes designed to mock in a backhanded fashion. Much like "Oh, you have such a pretty face, if only..."
I am trying to learn to accept compliments at face value, not read ulterior motives into them. I have to remind myself that people say what they mean and that I am deserving and I don't have to shoot myself down and turn it against myself. That a genuine acceptance and a heartfelt Thank You is sufficient. (Draz did say this is about crazy. This is about as crazy as it gets. lol)
2. What do you wear to bed?
Depends. After I had my son, lo, these many years ago I got into the habit of wearing something to sleep in so that if he needed me, I could go to him without having to scramble in the dark, with bleary, blurry eyes trying to fumble into a garment of some kind. It became a habit. I usually sleep in the lightest, skimpiest, shortest gowns/nightshirts I have. I don't like a lot of fabric getting tangles around me when I am sleeping. Unless it is colder than a witch's lunch bucket in my room, in which case I bundle up in my big, warm fleece robe under all of my blankets to keep from freezing to death.
Now that I have my own space, I am beginning, slowly, to indulge in sleeping nude, again. It's nice, I have to say. I have lovely sheets and why not enjoy them fully. :D
3. If you could pick your dream job – with no worries of shifts or money or bosses or commute – what would it be and where?
Oh, gosh... I have always harbored a secret wish to be a fighter pilot. I know... Crazy, huh? Not because I want to shoot down other planes or drop bombs on anyone (tho I can think of a few individuals who could use a good explosive episode) but because I think it would be the ultimate thrill to fly one of those magnificent machines. Think about the freedom, the speed, the way a plane like that can move through the air.
When I was a little girl one of the local TV channels would sign off with footage of a fighter taking off and a voice narrating the John Gillsepie Magee poem High Flight.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent lifting mind I have trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
Copied and pasted from Wickipedia. I couldn't remember all of the words... Sorry about that.
That sign off had a huge impact on me, it touched and spoke to something deep within me and this poem makes me weep every time I hear or read it. It has, since I was a child. To me, it is the ultimate expression of freedom, of being ones self. Of near heartrending joy. And I think of flying a fighter as that expression.
4. Okay – I’m not trying to start some huge controversy with this question but I have to put it out there. If you’re being honest – do you think staying at home or working outside the home is harder? Can you honestly recognize they are both equally hard? Even if you don’t have kids – have you heard others talk about the two professions judgementally?
This is a good one. Yepper. I have done both. Working mom and SAHM. And I can tell you from personal experience that they are both tough as hell. Seriously. Being a working mom is hard. Not only do you have to hold up your end on the job, you have to come home, put it aside and be a high caliber mom, wife/partner, cook, housekeeper (with help from your husband or partner, but this is a rant for another day) and everything else under the sun.
Being a SAHM is just as hard. Raising a child/children is not an easy job. And most SAHMs (unless one is lucky enough to have paid staff) work their arses off. Housework, taking care of, spending time with, teaching and all the million and one things that need to be done for kiddos is never ending and utterly exhausting. Add having to be a chauffeur, do all the errands, shopping, pay the bills and so on and you have one busy gal. (Or guy, if the person in question is a SAHD.)
There is no right or wrong. Working outside the home or in the home, we all work. Damned hard! And for one "group" to make judgements on another is so wrong. In my not so humble opinion it degrades women everywhere. In all walks of life and professions. (And yes, I consider being a housewife/SAHM to be a profession!) Why do we feel the need to tear one another down this way? We should be supporting and lifting one another up. The increasing attacks on our sex should teach us to come together, not divide and hurt one another. (Another rant for another day... I need to go on about equal rights, some time.)
Oh, and for anyone who thinks that housewives without children don't work, come spend a week living my life. Yes, my son is grown. That doesn't mean I sit on my ass all day watching soaps and eating bon bons. Just saying.
5. Repeat question. Summarize your week in blogland and in real life.
Ah, Draz. You did it to me, again. lol
In blogland, I am still not yapping a lot. But I am trying to get my shit together. In real life, I am just trying to hold the line.
And may I just say, since this is a BYOC day and we are dealing with crazy, what the fuck??? Some people really need to get over themselves. And, again; what the fuck??? Because, yeah. We should all be able to accurately predict earthquakes, these days, right? *seriously rolling my eyes*
Okay, I think that this is now way more than long enough and if you made your way through all of it, I am going to give you a sugar free cookie.