"I'm FAT." (Said like Adel Givens in Queens of Comedy)
Well, I'm not really that damned fat. And most people tell me that I don't look like I need to lose weight. (Stop being nice - I can see my fat ass tummies that I'm trying to cover up with loose fitting summer tops.) And when I tell them that I weigh nearly 200 pounds they say I must be lying (Trust - if I was going to lie about my weight, I would say that I weigh 145.)
I'm 5'10" tall and I weigh 197 pounds. Sometimes, I console myself that there are really fat people in the world who would KILL to lose weight to the size that I am now and think that they are every bit as fine as beyonce, halle, and jlo all rolled into one.
I actually like MOST of my body. I'm just carrying about twenty pounds that gives me two tummies and screw up my whole body image.
Twenty pounds that keep me from wearing the cute little summer styles that I want to wear. Twenty pounds that keep me from being able to comfortably shop in The Limited and Gap and Banana Republic (and have the clothes fit they way I want them to). But that have me about twenty pounds too small for me to shop in Lane Bryant and Ashley Stewart (and have the clothes fit properly). Twenty pounds that convince me that I am NOT as fine as beyonce, halle and jlo all rolled into one.
So, I'm doing something about it. I'm on my fourth straight day of morning walks. I've been walking about 2.5 miles in the morning. Sunday morning, I upped it to about four miles and then Sunday evening, I convinced my mom and two of my sisters to walk another three miles.
After the workouts, I do at least 30 crunches and 30 double leg lifts.
During the day when I'm sitting at work, I do chair workouts. Mostly arm raises and curls when an upbeat song that I really like comes on the radio. I'm doing ab squeezes and of course kegels (but those ain't got nothing to do with my weight).
I'm about to start walking in the evenings as well - just as the sun is setting - when you can at least breathe outside. (It's been so hot in Atlanta lately, Lucifer was at Five Points trading bottled water for souls, saw Jesus at Centennial playing in the water fountain and God himself was at Piedmont in a short set and some Blublockers.)
When I'm at home, I'm making it a point to do something physical while I'm watching television or talking on the phone. Like single and double leg lifts and more crunches.
And I'm okay with all of the activity. But the truth be told, if my money was right, I would just have the lipo that I got the consult for last year. Because really, I just want a flat tummy. I'll keep everything else.
But since I can lose twenty pounds for free, I'll try that first. I'll check back in to let you know how I'm doing and since I can't remember what my body looks like at 180, I'll let you know if I find it to be an acceptable body image.
7.26.2005
7.20.2005
WARNING: Brain Leak
This post is one long rambling thought. Apologies prior to for subjecting you to this.
I went away for a while.
Hence my "Gone Fishing" sign.
I had to take a bit of time to do some inner searching. I needed to sit still and listen for the voice from the center part of me to see if I would be familiar with its sound when it whispered.
You see, in trying to find myself, I lost a part of who I was. Well, I didn't really lose it. More accurately, I tried to deny that it was there.
I'm sure you're wondering by now - what in DAHELL is this chick talking about?
I thought I'd found God. And from what they told me, the God I found would make me into this near perfect person and this God, in all his goodness, grace and mercy would turn me into this awesomely successful and wonderful individual who could withstand the trials of this world with little more than a bible, a prayer and a word.
Um, yeah...okay.
What I discovered in the last six months - I am not THAT good. And the life that they are preaching to me is easier preached than lived.
At one point, in my hypocritical self-righteousness, I would passionately proclaim that even though I knew that I could NEVER be perfect that I was GLAD to have a standard that I could attempt to live up to. Blind to the fact that living right consistently on the day in/day out is fucking impossible.
And I am pissed off. Why? Because I felt like I was sold a bullshit dream based on an unreal expectation of goodness and light dressed in a superhero costume slaying all vestiges of sin from my being.
Dunt-dunt-duuunnnn - SuperChristian to the rescue.
Now all I have to say is get away from me with that.
I am an imperfect being.
And I don't like facing my imperfections or admitting my sins. I try to go for months at a time and pretend that they don't exist. But I can't fool myself for very long, because just when I think I've got them tucked away in a little manageable corner of my existence, they jump out on me and scare the shit out of everybody I know.
For instance, I like to curse. I like it. Now, I don't mean that I curse like a sailor, but a well placed sh!t or a got-d@mn or a wtf? feels good, feels right, just feels like it fits.
Another example - Along with procrastinating, I am EXTRA good at starting sh!t and not finishing it. I could give many examples here - but once I got around to actually starting the list I would never be able to finish the list.
I'm a fornicator. For about six months, I was really trying not to be. But that mess don't work so well when you're a healthy sexually experienced and aware being. Besides, all that whole Tweet routine was NOT satisfying a sista'.
I have a mad lazy streak. Sometimes, I just don't want to do a damn thing, but sit on my arse, read or surf or daydream or just sleep. Trust me when I say I can sleep anytime, anyplace. Just give me about five minutes of inactivity and I could be dead to the world in the middle of a battlefield.
I'm still trying to figure out how God fits into all of this. I do still believe in Him and a LOT of what goes along with all that. I'm starting to realize that I let religion get in the way of my relationship and in doing that, I became someone that people who knew me didn't like. The saddest part about it - I didn't even realize it was happening.
Now, LanaC, when you get to reading this, don't get all worried about me and schedule an all night prayer vigil. I'm still on the right path. I'm just taking the time to consider all of who I am and find a way to walk this walk and still look in the mirror on a daily basis and know that I am living as well as I can but at the same time, being honest with myself and others about how far short I fall.
And trust, I fall WAAAAYYYY short.
I went away for a while.
Hence my "Gone Fishing" sign.
I had to take a bit of time to do some inner searching. I needed to sit still and listen for the voice from the center part of me to see if I would be familiar with its sound when it whispered.
You see, in trying to find myself, I lost a part of who I was. Well, I didn't really lose it. More accurately, I tried to deny that it was there.
I'm sure you're wondering by now - what in DAHELL is this chick talking about?
I thought I'd found God. And from what they told me, the God I found would make me into this near perfect person and this God, in all his goodness, grace and mercy would turn me into this awesomely successful and wonderful individual who could withstand the trials of this world with little more than a bible, a prayer and a word.
Um, yeah...okay.
What I discovered in the last six months - I am not THAT good. And the life that they are preaching to me is easier preached than lived.
At one point, in my hypocritical self-righteousness, I would passionately proclaim that even though I knew that I could NEVER be perfect that I was GLAD to have a standard that I could attempt to live up to. Blind to the fact that living right consistently on the day in/day out is fucking impossible.
And I am pissed off. Why? Because I felt like I was sold a bullshit dream based on an unreal expectation of goodness and light dressed in a superhero costume slaying all vestiges of sin from my being.
Dunt-dunt-duuunnnn - SuperChristian to the rescue.
Now all I have to say is get away from me with that.
I am an imperfect being.
And I don't like facing my imperfections or admitting my sins. I try to go for months at a time and pretend that they don't exist. But I can't fool myself for very long, because just when I think I've got them tucked away in a little manageable corner of my existence, they jump out on me and scare the shit out of everybody I know.
For instance, I like to curse. I like it. Now, I don't mean that I curse like a sailor, but a well placed sh!t or a got-d@mn or a wtf? feels good, feels right, just feels like it fits.
Another example - Along with procrastinating, I am EXTRA good at starting sh!t and not finishing it. I could give many examples here - but once I got around to actually starting the list I would never be able to finish the list.
I'm a fornicator. For about six months, I was really trying not to be. But that mess don't work so well when you're a healthy sexually experienced and aware being. Besides, all that whole Tweet routine was NOT satisfying a sista'.
I have a mad lazy streak. Sometimes, I just don't want to do a damn thing, but sit on my arse, read or surf or daydream or just sleep. Trust me when I say I can sleep anytime, anyplace. Just give me about five minutes of inactivity and I could be dead to the world in the middle of a battlefield.
I'm still trying to figure out how God fits into all of this. I do still believe in Him and a LOT of what goes along with all that. I'm starting to realize that I let religion get in the way of my relationship and in doing that, I became someone that people who knew me didn't like. The saddest part about it - I didn't even realize it was happening.
Now, LanaC, when you get to reading this, don't get all worried about me and schedule an all night prayer vigil. I'm still on the right path. I'm just taking the time to consider all of who I am and find a way to walk this walk and still look in the mirror on a daily basis and know that I am living as well as I can but at the same time, being honest with myself and others about how far short I fall.
And trust, I fall WAAAAYYYY short.
7.19.2005
coming attractions...
i am working on some new posts...
letter to my father...
soul food...
don't let me die...
an evening stroll...
right now...they are all half thoughts...that i am trying to get through to completion...thanks for checking in and bearing with...
feel free to post your guesses on the actual content of the coming attractions...
7.06.2005
7.01.2005
clarissa's catering company
what is it about these lyrics that irk some women i know?
in my opinion...this song is about totally loving a man to the point where all you want to do is spoil him...see to his needs...make sure that you are the best that you can be for him...
and exactly what is wrong with that?
i...for one...want to AND DO cater to my man...the problem with most relationships is that more often than not...females run into TANS (trifling @$$ knee-grows) who are not worth catering to or end up in situations where the special attention is not reciprocated in equal measure...
as a result...my sisters and sistafriends end up so jaded and cynical that when they hear lyrics such as these from beyonce and her backup singers, they are so emotionally (and sometimes financially) bankrupt that they cannot embrace these lyrics as the truest form of love...
and of course...the libra in me can acknowledge the flipside of the situation...the actions in this song smack of servitude...
but...what's so wrong with serving the man you love? isn't that a part of the submitting that you are supposed to do as a good wife?
keep in mind here that if you are loving and serving the right kind of man that he is loving and serving you too...maybe not in that exact same way...
but when my man gets up before daybreak to go out and earn a living to bring his paycheck home to momma..appreciates the good loving i give him and the good meals that i prepare...when he makes me feel safe and secure...when he prays for me...when he comes up behind me and takes me in his arms and whispers words of sweet love...when he comes home every night...when he's d*cking me down, making my toes curl and he's calling MY name...when i don't ever have to worry about the other woman OR the other man...when i know that at the end of a day...he's got my back like i've got his and that together there is no challenge in life that we can't overcome...
hell yeah...i'm gonna love him with every fiber of my being...
just call me clarissa the caterer...
in my opinion...this song is about totally loving a man to the point where all you want to do is spoil him...see to his needs...make sure that you are the best that you can be for him...
and exactly what is wrong with that?
i...for one...want to AND DO cater to my man...the problem with most relationships is that more often than not...females run into TANS (trifling @$$ knee-grows) who are not worth catering to or end up in situations where the special attention is not reciprocated in equal measure...
as a result...my sisters and sistafriends end up so jaded and cynical that when they hear lyrics such as these from beyonce and her backup singers, they are so emotionally (and sometimes financially) bankrupt that they cannot embrace these lyrics as the truest form of love...
and of course...the libra in me can acknowledge the flipside of the situation...the actions in this song smack of servitude...
but...what's so wrong with serving the man you love? isn't that a part of the submitting that you are supposed to do as a good wife?
keep in mind here that if you are loving and serving the right kind of man that he is loving and serving you too...maybe not in that exact same way...
but when my man gets up before daybreak to go out and earn a living to bring his paycheck home to momma..appreciates the good loving i give him and the good meals that i prepare...when he makes me feel safe and secure...when he prays for me...when he comes up behind me and takes me in his arms and whispers words of sweet love...when he comes home every night...when he's d*cking me down, making my toes curl and he's calling MY name...when i don't ever have to worry about the other woman OR the other man...when i know that at the end of a day...he's got my back like i've got his and that together there is no challenge in life that we can't overcome...
hell yeah...i'm gonna love him with every fiber of my being...
just call me clarissa the caterer...
6.30.2005
WTF?
Don't ask how I found this link.
Ask why it even exists. Actually, I found it this morning when I was looking for the correct spelling of the word 'ese' - pronounced essay...and my need for the correct spelling of 'ese' was prompted by brutha code and his way out there @$$.
But really who in DAHELL has time to put something like this together? And keep it updated? Notice the references to Tony Soprano and FUBU.
Boy, I tell ya'. This ish you can find online.
Ask why it even exists. Actually, I found it this morning when I was looking for the correct spelling of the word 'ese' - pronounced essay...and my need for the correct spelling of 'ese' was prompted by brutha code and his way out there @$$.
But really who in DAHELL has time to put something like this together? And keep it updated? Notice the references to Tony Soprano and FUBU.
Boy, I tell ya'. This ish you can find online.
6.28.2005
the fat smelly kid in the third grade...
y'all remember him?
he wore husky sized clothing and his dingy shirt always rolled up over his belly fat as his pants hung down to reveal his butt crack...
his breath smelled like stale bologna and for some reason, even after getting caught in a mid afternoon downpour, he still looked like he needed to be dunked in the washing machine and put on the heavy duty cycle with the extra rinse...
his hairstyle swung between two extremes...uncombed nappy @$$ bee-dee-bee's and being skinned 'til his scalp was raw...
he never had money for blow pops or field trips and for lunch he would bring vienna sausages and graham crackers...
and his only friend was the retarded cross eyed girl with freakishly big head...
he wore husky sized clothing and his dingy shirt always rolled up over his belly fat as his pants hung down to reveal his butt crack...
his breath smelled like stale bologna and for some reason, even after getting caught in a mid afternoon downpour, he still looked like he needed to be dunked in the washing machine and put on the heavy duty cycle with the extra rinse...
his hairstyle swung between two extremes...uncombed nappy @$$ bee-dee-bee's and being skinned 'til his scalp was raw...
he never had money for blow pops or field trips and for lunch he would bring vienna sausages and graham crackers...
and his only friend was the retarded cross eyed girl with freakishly big head...
6.27.2005
the definition of insanity...
in·san·i·ty (noun) - doing the same things repeatedly expecting different results each time.
It's official. I am insane.
Why else would I get up this morning and eat the same sandwich for breakfast, drive the same route to the same 9 to 5, listening to the same radio station, thinking the same thoughts and think that I would be any happier today than I was on Friday when I did this?
Why else would I think that people I know who I used to call friend would be accepting of all of who I am? I mean, really, there are some things about myself that I don't like. Why in west Hell would I expect others to like them?
Why else would I expect that loving him is enough to cause him to love me in the same way? Shouldn't I have known that the work that would be required to build upon this foundation would sometimes be thankless and routine and seem less than rewarding?
I must be insane. Because I am not learning the lessons that the Universe keeps bashing me over the head with. I am not moving into a new and heightened reality full of bliss. I want joy to be a familiar experience not a few fleeting moments of sunshine in an existence filled with dark clouds and stormy days.
But maybe, that's all there is...I certainly don't want to think so, but maybe. And maybe, I'm not insane after all. Maybe the insanity of my reality is actually normality but because I don't recognize it, what looks like crazy on an ordinary day is really sanity defined.
It's official. I am insane.
Why else would I get up this morning and eat the same sandwich for breakfast, drive the same route to the same 9 to 5, listening to the same radio station, thinking the same thoughts and think that I would be any happier today than I was on Friday when I did this?
Why else would I think that people I know who I used to call friend would be accepting of all of who I am? I mean, really, there are some things about myself that I don't like. Why in west Hell would I expect others to like them?
Why else would I expect that loving him is enough to cause him to love me in the same way? Shouldn't I have known that the work that would be required to build upon this foundation would sometimes be thankless and routine and seem less than rewarding?
I must be insane. Because I am not learning the lessons that the Universe keeps bashing me over the head with. I am not moving into a new and heightened reality full of bliss. I want joy to be a familiar experience not a few fleeting moments of sunshine in an existence filled with dark clouds and stormy days.
But maybe, that's all there is...I certainly don't want to think so, but maybe. And maybe, I'm not insane after all. Maybe the insanity of my reality is actually normality but because I don't recognize it, what looks like crazy on an ordinary day is really sanity defined.
6.24.2005
6.23.2005
It's Midnight
It's midnight and I am missing him.
I awake, finding myself alone.
Wondering if i occupy that space in the middle of his mind.
I am remembering his kisses.
If I could define a perfect kiss, it would be his.
I am still feeling the connection.
I am longing for the touch of his hand.
Eager for the sound of his voice.
If I could paint a dream, it would be this reality.
If I could outline a fantasy, it would be this truth.
I close my eyes and think back to the place where today danced with yesterday.
I inhale the scent of tomorrow's lovemaking. It smells like sunshine.
God kissed me this morning and held my hand the whole day through.
He brought me to this place painted with thoughts of him.
He is the lover of my soul. I am the lover of him.
It is midnight and I am missing him.
I awake, finding myself alone.
Wondering if i occupy that space in the middle of his mind.
I am remembering his kisses.
If I could define a perfect kiss, it would be his.
I am still feeling the connection.
I am longing for the touch of his hand.
Eager for the sound of his voice.
If I could paint a dream, it would be this reality.
If I could outline a fantasy, it would be this truth.
I close my eyes and think back to the place where today danced with yesterday.
I inhale the scent of tomorrow's lovemaking. It smells like sunshine.
God kissed me this morning and held my hand the whole day through.
He brought me to this place painted with thoughts of him.
He is the lover of my soul. I am the lover of him.
It is midnight and I am missing him.
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