Don't We All Look The Same Naked?

If I really thought about every silly thing I've said and/or done, I think I could write a book.  Perhaps, it's time to share some of the rather funny stories of my past.

I remember this one time, when I was in elementary school, a friend and I were completely obsessed with New Kids on the Block, or NKOTB, as they were referred to by all of the "die hard" fans.  I had this brilliant idea that we were gonna call a hotline completely devoted to all things NKOTB.  If you were lucky, you might actually get to talk to the "kid" of your dreams, or so our naive brains thought.  I was ready.  My favorite was Jordan.  I didn't quite get how a guy could get his voice to go in the range that maybe only poodles could understand and decipher but, nonetheless, he was tops in my book.  So, I dialed.  Numerous times.  Obviously, the voices we heard were actually a recording and not the real people.  But, we were in hog heaven.  So much so, I kept dialing.  And, dialing.  And, dialing.  Little did I know (I would only find out weeks later when my poor parents got the phone bill) I made a very COSTLY mistake.  Oops.  As it turned out, the number actually started with a 1-900 and NOT a 1-800.  My bad.  Once you dial what seemed like ninety times, you forget that it might actually cost.  Back then, it might have only been $1.99 per call.  At any rate, I never once got to talk to the New Kids again.  Darn.

I also remember this one time, when I about five, I thought it might be a good idea to strip naked and run outside.  Never mind that half the men on the block were right across the street.  I didn't care.  I'll never know why I chose to run out in my "birthday suit".  All I know is that I ran out, started waving and somehow got all of their attention.  Besides, don't we all look the same naked?  In the eyes of a wee little one, I guess so.

Then, I remember picture day in second grade.  I wore a dress.  A really heinous one, to be exact.  I looked like a Pilgrim.  Or, someone straight out of "Little House on the Prairie".  My Smurfette glasses didn't help matters.  Neither did my haircut.  I had gone to the bathroom that day.  I guess I should've asked someone how to go to the bathroom in a dress.  Yes, I got in the stall, and forgot that I could simply pull the dress up, drop my drawers and pee.  So, what did I do?  Yep, I took the whole damn dress off.  To this day, my second-grade teacher and I still get quite a laugh out of that little incident in the bathroom.  Hey, at least I wasn't "smokin' in the boys room".

Fast-forward to Jr. High.  I remember this one time, in English class.  We were talking about some book we were reading (parts of this story have left my brain) and someone had commented, "Well, maybe he should just amputate it."  Me, trying to look all smart and sophisticated yelled out, "Nah, maybe he should just cut it off."  I was serious.  I didn't quite get why everyone was looking at me and laughing.  Then, I realized what was going on.  Duh, that's the same thing.  My bad.  

A recent incident  involved work.  Most notably falling at work.  Several months ago, I was assessing a patient.  After asking if there was anything I could do before I left, I started to walk backwards.  Don't ever do this.  Especially if you are clumsy.  Like me.  As I started to turn around, my feet got caught up in the patient's bed alarm and down I went.  In a blaze of glory.  At that point, my legs were up in the air facing the patient.  And, my face was as red as my scrub top.  I vividly remember this patient laughing hysterically.  Not one of my finer moments. "Hi, my name is Emily, and I'll be your nurse tonight.  I'm very uncoordinated, but that shouldn't worry you one bit.  Unless, of course, I have a needle in my hand".

At times, I wish I wasn't so clumsy.  Or, random.  Or, silly.  I wish I could walk a straight line without wondering if and when I'll take a tumble.  I wish I could always say and do the right thing.  Then I think that my clumsiness, my silliness, my randomness is what makes me ME.  And, that is mighty fine.  

Thankfully, I've gotten rid of those "not-so-cool" Smurfette glasses in exchange for some really cool purple specs.  I no longer wear dresses from the 1850's.  My love for NKOTB has faded.  And, I've learned to put clothes on before I leave the house.  You should all be thankful for that last part.  However, don't we all look the same naked?  My five-year-old self seems to think so.  Embrace your nakedness and show off that pretty birthday suit every once in a while.  In the privacy of your own bedroom, of course :)  

Sometimes, You'll Learn A Lesson From Kindergarten, Jr. High AND Cosmo...

I got to thinking about lessons.  Life lessons.  Maybe Robert Fulghum was right.  Maybe all we really needed to know we learned in kindergarten.  I was so intrigued by this man, I googled him and happened upon his website.  There, I read a wonderful journal entry titled "IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MIDDLE".  It was about Jr. High.  And, I was immediately transformed back to that time.  Me.  At 12.  I've never been a fan of those years...for anyone.  I did NOT like 6th-8th grades at all.  It's bad enough that you are starting to come into your own at this time, you then have to deal with all the cliques.  Okay, so some of us were still walking around with baby fat and now we have to worry if we were gonna be one of the "popular" kids?  No thanks.  I wish I could go back to have a talk with my Jr. High self.  I'd tell her A LOT can, and has, changed...and, it does get better.

First of all, as the years pass, the cliques slowly fade.  As the song goes, you find out who you friends are, the ones that you know will still be your friend long after those days of braces, acne and really bad outfits.  I'd like to tell my twelve year-old self that it really doesn't matter what you look like.  Or, what you wear.  Or, your shoe size.  Or, where you live.  None of it.  So, calm down.  Don't get so wrapped up in it.  

So what if you wore braces and felt like metal mouth.  You know what that's gonna get you later, little Emily?  A really pretty smile.  One that you can show off in pictures.  You'll be proud of your "pearly whites" one day.  So, quit your bitchin' about having to go get them tightened what seemed like every other week.  

Oh, and you didn't make the basketball team?  Well, I am sure you thought life as you knew it was over.  In fact, I vividly remember you crying about it.  Guess what?  Your life continued on, without much bruising from being cut from the team.  You know what?  In high school, you'll be a swimmer.  So, you won't be the best one.  You will learn that you can train hard and get fit.  So, put that ball away.  You weren't meant to be a basketball player.  I promise, you didn't miss much.

About the dreaded period?  Well, you survived that, too.  Okay, so you really wanted nothing to do with pads.  Believe me, you won't when you're my age, either.  What sane girl wants to walk around with a "boat" between her legs?  Really, who wants that?  And, it's fine.  Your period only rears its semi-ugly head once a month.  Embrace it.  It's a part of what makes you a woman.  Be proud.  Own it.  But, don't always make it known that "Aunt Flo" is visiting.  People don't really need to know.  Sure, you might get cramps.  Surprise!  There's medicine for that.  You'll find there's a medicine for nearly everything...but, I'm getting off track here.

And, you know those boobs that you hoped would get "Dolly Parton" big?  Well, you're gonna be greatly disappointed.  I'll let you in on a little secret.  They're just boobs.  Mostly, they just get in the way.  I wouldn't recommend stuffing your bra.  So, put away the Kleenex.  Believe me, you'll be MOSTLY happy that you don't have DD's.  Trust me, you'll have a pretty easy time finding bras.  Some gals aren't so lucky.  So, when your boobs don't grow much, don't fear.  Take your boobs and run with 'em.  Literally.   Then, you'll realize you can pretty much do what you want.  Like I said, they won't get in your way :)

That shy little girl?  Well, my former self, you'll grow up to be a big, fat smart mouth.  It's okay, don't be scared.  MOST people will laugh.  Maybe with you.  Maybe at you.  Either way, they'll think it's funny.  So, go ahead.  Be funny.  Granted, you won't have your own show like Chelsea Handler, but you'll do pretty well entertaining the fine folks of Tell City.  Some people won't appreciate your humor.  It's okay.  Make fun of yourself anyway.  And, get ready for being a big klutz.  Yep.  You weren't born with the "coordination" gene.  Such is life.  You're gonna fall...A LOT.  And, you're gonna say A LOT of silly and stupid stuff.  Just don't get mad when people bring it up from time to time.  I guarantee it'll bring a smile to your face.  Laugh.  And, do it big.  

Maybe some of your classmates will forever live in that so-called "Ivory Tower".  Don't worry, you won't be one of them.  Stay happy, humble and hopeful.  You have a bright future ahead of you.  Don't let those years define your life.  Trust me, it gets WAY better.  I should know.  I've lived it all and I'm still standing...well, right now I'm sitting.  But, you get my drift!  

"Aunt Flo" just left (thank goodness...she can be a real hag).  You still aren't a basketball player (probably not such a big deal now that you can barely walk without falling).  And, those teeth?  Well, there's a big reason why you should keep on smiling.  That's all you can really do anyway. 

So, listen up, little girl.  There's life out there...and, it's yours to grab by the balls.  Just don't grab too tightly.  Sometimes, they turn blue.  And, I'll guarantee you won't learn that in Jr. High. Or, kindergarten, for that matter.  I'll leave that lesson for you to learn on your own...from Cosmo.

Now, it's time for a nap.  And, to thank the Lord above my lovely period is over for another month!

Does This Elliptical Make Me Look Fat?

I've never been a skinny girl.  Okay, so maybe I only weighed 5 lb 6 oz at birth, but I grew by leaps and bounds from that day forward.  I've always been overweight.  I see no shame in this at all.  In fact, I use it for a lot of my "making fun of myself" jokes.  I can already hear the grumbles.  I can hear some of you saying, "Stop that nonsense.  You are beautiful, no matter your size".  I never said I wasn't beautiful.  I just said I wasn't "model thin".  I like to eat.  Sue me.  As a result of my love for all things food, I have become a pretty permanent fixture at many gyms in the last several years.  I really got "serious" about my weight back in college.  I use quotes for a reason.  Everyone knows college is THE worst place to try and diet.  Like I could really think about watching what I eat with Pizza Express breadsticks and Jiffy Treet ice cream around every corner. That's a big temptation for a chubby girl like me.  If it's really true that " you are what you eat", then I was walking around as a giant stick of bread covered in cookie dough.   .  Plus, once I moved off campus, the amount of walking I did at IU was pretty much null and void.  Are you kidding me?  I drove to class, nearly right up to the front door of the building if that was possible.  Let's face it...I was lazy.  So, I started going to the student recreational center.  It was huge.  And, quite honestly, intimidating.  Most of the people there looked like they skipped down sorority row with their matching Nike bra tops and spandex shorts.  Me?  Well, I wore whatever was clean at the time.  Mostly, a large array of oversized shirts and baggy pants.  Granted, I was there to get fit, but I wasn't about to let the whole place see all my fat rolls.

After the initial shock of seeing all the pretty people there, I headed for the elliptical machine.  From a distance, it looked so daunting, so evil.  Like, it was secretly laughing at the mere thought of me even attempting to use it.  Of course, I chose this particular piece of equipment because it was in the very back.  Less chance of everyone's eyes on the "big girl".  So, I started.  And, it was hard.  Really hard.  After about two minutes, I thought I was going to die.  Or, explode.  Either scenario suited me just fine.  I wanted off.  And, I wanted off NOW.  It didn't help matters that there was a big wall of mirrors right behind me.  Occasionally, I would look back and think to myself, "does this elliptical make me look fat?"  My ass looked like the size of several bowling balls.  But, I was bound and determined to last ten minutes.  If memory serves me correctly, I think I barely made it.  When finished, I hopped off, so proud of my accomplishment.  I wanted to sink into the floor and sleep.  I was tired.  I vowed right then and there that, no matter what, I would try and make this a big part of my life.  The breadsticks and ice cream were gonna have to make room for a third potential love of my life.  And, that was exercise.

The first time wasn't so bad.  It was a nice first date.  We really got to know each other.  Rather, the elliptical realized quickly that I was a hot mess and it was going to have to slow down and get to know me first before making any rash decisions.  I saw something in that little elliptical that  day.  And, in me.  I can't remember the exact day.  Like, no one ever asks me, "Where were you the first time you exercised?"  It's not as monumental as, say, your exact location when JFK was shot.  But, it sure was a big moment in my life.

My next adventure in the world of "fit and trim" was in Indy.  Lifetime Fitness, to be exact.  That place was HUGE.  And, that may even be an understatement.  When I finally made it to the floor with all the exercise equipment, my jaw dropped.  There were treadmills, ellipticals and bikes that went on for what seemed like miles.  TV's covered practically every inch of that place.  Mirrors, too.  Unless I am working on my own personal "gun show", I don't want to see myself working out.  It's just not attractive.  At any rate, I made a bee line for the elliptical.  It's what I knew.  It was my old boyfriend.  He hadn't let me down at IU and I figured this would be no different.  Everything about this place was HUGE.  Boobs (probably fake).  Biceps (probably NOT fake).  Calves.  Egos.  It was insane.  And, I was loving every minute of it.  I went nearly every single day...religiously.  I wanted to sweat.  Like, maybe I was starting to become addicted to it.  Me?  Addicted to anything other than food?  This was starting to alarm me.  I actually enjoyed working out.  WTH?  Who actually gets up on a daily basis and yearns to work out?  Well, I was starting to and it was making me angry.  It had taken over my entire body and I was a slave to it.  At this particular time in my life, I had also bravely joined a Weight Watchers group, too.  Talk about intimidating!  I was 22.  I didn't know anything about life.  And, here I was, trying to control my weight and my love of food all at once.

The first week on the program was rough.  Actually, it was more than rough.  It was hell.  I was constantly hungry.  I told myself to just get through the first week.  Surely, it would get better after the first week.  Well, the first weigh-in after I had started had arrived.  I was nervous.  Sweating.  Shaking.  About ready to throw up.  I got up on the scale...surprise!  I lost.  And, I lost big!  I couldn't believe it.  It took me about three weeks before I finally started to really get into the swing of it but, after about nine months of WW and the big "gym that could", I was down 50 lbs.  I had so much more energy.  I was invincible.  I wanted to go, do, see everything!  It was amazing.

Then, I moved home to go to nursing school.  Throughout school (okay, so I gained some weight back after moving home!), I rejoined a program here in town.  I ended up losing all the weight I had gained and a few extra lbs.  At this point, I would've told you I could do anything.  Fly a plane.  Walk a high-wire.  Cure world hunger.  Anything.  It didn't matter.  I had enough energy for ten people!

Fast-forward several years, a thyroid surgery, and one of THE worst shifts to work (NIGHTS!) and I have gained most of the weight back.  Does this mean I don't like myself?  Hell no.  Because, I learned a few lessons along the way.  It really doesn't matter what you look like.  First and foremost, you have to learn to love yourself, no matter your size.  In the grand scheme of life, I'm really not that big.  Sure, I could stand to lose 25 lbs.  But, I'm NOT gonna kill myself in order to achieve that goal.  I still go to the gym.  I try and not shovel everything food-wise in my mouth (which is good, because I loathe mushrooms) and I try and stay active.  I am thankful my body still allows me to work out.  I push the limits at the gym.  I even started to run last year.  Me, a "runner".  I've only been able to run consistently for thirty minutes.  Hey, it's a start.  For this big girl, it's monumental.

To make a long story short (too late!), you may not have all the time in the world.  Take fifteen minutes.  If you're in a parking lot, make it a point to parker farther and farther away each week.That way, I can park closer.  Hey, it's the least I can do for you.  Drink more water.  Eat a few less fries.  Easier said than done.  Fries are evil.  And, I love them.  On your lunch break, walk a few laps around your building.  It's the little things that make a big difference.

My point is this...eat what you want, maybe just a little less.  Drink what you want, maybe just a little less.  Find something that you love to do and do it on purpose.  Life's too short to get worked up in a person's size.  No matter if I'm a 6 or a 16, I'm still gonna keep on bein' me, the biggest smart ass you know.  Now, where's my DQ?

Who cares if the elliptical makes me look fat?  At least I am on it. :)

Good Thing I Learned How To Read Last Week...

I recently read a book.  Yes, I know how to read.  Surprise!  The title?  "Redeeming Love".  Before I go any further, I beg all of you to run out and read it.  Why, you ask?  I'm gonna tell you.

In one word, it's amazing.  Plain and simple.  I was hooked from the first word.  I won't go into all the wonderful details of the book (you'll just have to read it), but I will say this.  However you felt about God before, it will certainly change your opinion once you're done.  For the better.

After finishing the book this morning, I started thinking about change.  And, people.  Long story short (don't worry, it doesn't give much away), it's about true change.  True honest-to-goodness change.  And, love.  Unconditional love.  Unrelenting Love.  Everlasting love.   Change and love.  Two great themes that are woven throughout the entire book.

Change.  Is it always a good thing?  I suppose it is if you're ready for it.  I've never been a huge fan of it.  Okay, so maybe when it comes to underwear, I'm its biggest fan.  Otherwise, no thanks.  But, maybe it CAN be a good thing.  Basically, what you didn't expect to happen has happened.  You can deal with it or throw yourself a pity party.  Either way, it doesn't affect the outcome.  So, maybe more of us should embrace change.  I'm learning.  I like routines.  Change disrupts all of that.  It takes you outside of your proverbial "comfort zone" and forces you to see a situation from a different vantage point.  Can people change?  Most definitely.  Should we label people one way because of his or her past?  Absolutely not.  I don't know about you, but I never claimed to be perfect.  And, neither should any of you.  This book proves that.  I'll let you discover how.

Unconditional Love.  Is that even real?  Can any of us really love anything or anyone without question, cause for concern,  or judgment?  I feel like I loved a pet that much once.  Growing up, we had two cats.  Pebbles and Snoopy.  Pebbles, was precious.  But, she peed all over the house.  Literally.  I didn't see that as a major problem.  Because, I was five.  And, I wet the bed.  I felt like we had a lot in common.  And, it wasn't my place to judge.  I just loved that cat and cried when she was carted off to be put to sleep.  I'll never forget standing at the front door with tears streaming down my pudgy little face.  Snoopy, on the other hand?  Well, he was evil.  The only person he could stand was my dad.  Everyone else could go to hell, in his eyes.  I had half a mind to put that damn cat in a crate myself and bicycle my own rear end to the damn vet and hand him over.  I had unconditional love for sweet Pebbles.  Snoopy?  Well, there was no love lost.  

Moral of this blog?  Change your underwear.  Love your pets (even the ones that pee all over the furniture).  And, read that damn book.  But, really...change your dirty underwear first.  Hell, sit in your dirty underwear reading the book while you watch your own pet pee all over the place.  Just go out and get the book.  You won't regret it.  And, neither will fluffy.  Or, your "tighty-whities".  Or, your granny panties.  Or, your thong.

The First...

Well, I took the leap.  No, not off a cliff.  I have caved in, so to speak, and  joined the ranks of all the other millions of bloggers out there.  Never mind it's a Friday night and I'm sitting in my pajamas eating ice cream.  Don't judge.  So, my life is not exactly chic and hip.  So what?  It's still my life.  I'm gonna write about it. And, all of you are gonna like it.

First of all, I am clumsy.  It should come as no surprise that I have specific names for almost all of my infamous falls.  I clearly remember the first time I really hit the pavement hard.  It was in college.  IU, to be exact.  I was in line at the dining hall.  On the menu?  Chinese.  Also on the menu that night?  My first funny fall.  Well, it wasn't all that comical at the time, but makes me giggle thinking about it now.  Okay, back to the dining hall.  There I was, waiting in line to get some grub.  I am sure my mouth was salivating from all the glorious food in front of me.  Right before I got up to the buffet, I took a tumble.  Apparently, no one told me there was some sweet and sour sauce spilled on the floor.  Well, down I went.  And, what was this fall named?  That's right, it was the "Will You Marry Me?" fall.  Because, that's how I went down.  On one knee.  Yep.  Graceful.  To this day, I still chuckle every time I am at a Chinese buffet.  Good time.  

Second of all, I am crazy.  Not in the "let's commit her" kind of way.  More of "this girl is just plain silly" kind of way.  Most people are just too serious.  Life's too short.  Sure, there are many times when it's not okay to crack a joke.  But, there are many times (A LOT!) that silliness, laughter and a smart mouth are highly welcomed.  And, encouraged.  Maybe it's my defense mechanism.  If I don't know what to say, I make fun of myself.  Granted, I'm no Chelsea Handler, but I think I can hold my own among certain company.  Not so very long ago, a guy told me that I was the biggest smartass he'd ever met.  Well, I'll wear the crown with pride.

The last part of the title needs no explanation.  If you know me, you know I am cool.  Period.  

So, this is the subject of my very first blog.  I am sure I'll win the Pulitzer for blog writing.  If anyone would like to submit it, that would be awesome.  Just remember, I'll mention you in my speech.  Right after God, of course :)