Phooey

I have half an acre of brownish grass to mow, the house is dirty, the dog is bored, the washer is leaking, I forgot choir practise AND...my husband is calling me every evening with tales of fun adventures. Last eve he toured an old sailing ship on Fisherman's Wharf and took a boat tour around Alcatraz Island. The evening before that he rode up and down Nob Hill on a cable car. Tonight he is going to Chinatown. I hate him.

He is gone all this week to San Francisco to a death penalty seminar. He is having a blast. I hate him. I wanted to go but finances are tight and I HAVE GAINED WEIGHT. Both things stopped me from going. I hate him.

Our extra finances this summer have gone to home repairs and visits to Mentor Mary and Friends in hospital. I am happy we did all of these things and, I still resent being broke and stuck in Podunk WY while my husband is wining and dining in the City by the Bay.

Okay now down to cases. I could have put my ticket and meals and dog sitter on a credit card. Would not have been real smart but was sure doable. Truth? I didn't go because I felt and feel fat. Real fat. When they weighed me at Curves I weighed 196. That is 16 pounds I have re-gained. My clothes don't fit. I could not face going to the land of skinny people looking and feeling like a failed whale. Phooey.

Today I want to lie down and just give up. I want to let a tide of fat wash over and drown me. Why fight the inevitable? For multitudinous reasons I was meant to be fat and that is all there is to it. I am jousting at windmills in the attempt to be thin. I give in, give up, give over. I am a fat nobody going nowhere.

Goodbye cruel world.

Bea.

(Why am I laughing like a demented woman?)

Help Found

Mentor Mary of course. I read yesterday's blog to her. There was a long silence. Then she said, " Honey I think you are being lied to." To make a long spiritual/theological conversation short I'll just give you the gist of it. She thinks I am being lied to by Satan, Devil, spirit of evil that inhabits this world. I concur.

I bought hook, line and sinker into the evil idea that I have no choices. This is a blatant lie. I have choices in almost every area of my life. I can even choose how I feel. I also bought into the idea that abuse damaged me for life. Not so. I can and have moved on. I do not have to be pushed around by memories of my past. I can defuse them by speaking them out loud and then I can let them go.

My faith is pretty strong in spite of periodic bouts of unbelief and anger. Guess that makes me about normal. When I take off the blinders of victim hood I can see God's loving hand in my life. I am filled with gratitude.

And now for something completely different. I had a job interview at Curves today. They offered me a job as a coach, but the hours were lousy so I didn't take it. This all happened so fast I didn't have time to get my resume together. Instead I took an old photo to show them. Did the trick. I may have gained 13lbs. but I am still thinner than I was at 250+. Made me feel good that they wanted me. I am planning on rejoining come September and a paycheck.

That's all for now. Bea.

Power Full or Pity Full?

"Beggars can't be choosers," my family motto. "You can be pitiful or powerful. You can't be both." My desired motto. There is a war going on inside me.

I am not a victim. I am not a beggar. I am a powerful chooser. Do you think if I say this often enough it could come true?

In the comments section of the last post Vickie recommended a self defense class. I thought about it. My thoughts were, "What would be the point in that? If attacked I could/would never win and the attack would then be just that much worse." Gad. This kind of "stinking thinking" has poisoned my whole life. I know its origins, AND I WANT TO GET RID OF IT.

I was beaten, defiled and broken as a child. Some days I am amazed I can walk and chew gum at the same time. The abuse has colored my whole world. It is the reason I believe I can't fight back and WIN against attackers ... or cheesecake. It teaches you not to fight back. I don't want to be cracked. I want to be whole. I want to fight back. I gotta get some help.

I am born of a long line of victims. People who let life grind them to a pulp and never fought back. I was adopted by an amazing woman who was victimized but FOUGHT BACK with every ounce of her strength. She taught me how to fight back. Her main teaching was to give your fight to God and let him assist in the battle. I have been trying to do this for thirty years but...I am scared to death of God. He seems mean and unreliable. (God forgive me.)

All that business about having little children come unto Him, juxtaposed with turning the other cheek and giving your coat away just confuses me. God my loving protector who demands I be abused in the name of Christianity? I guess I believe no one can protect me. God won't and I can't. See, I told you I need help, spiritual and psychological. This round robin victim thinking is entrenched in me and I know it is WRONG.

But...I have enjoyed the many perks of victim hood. I get to be special. Not as much is expected of me. (In fact nothing. I was always pointed out as a miracle child for being smart enough to cross the road without being run over.) I get to evade responsibility. I get to believe I have no control over what happens to me. I get to hate myself. I get to contemplate suicide (without having any real intention of doing it.) I get to be fat.

I want to get some help to accept God's love, figure out how to shoulder the burden of my past, determine how and when to fight back, and to learn to recognize I have choices in life.

That's all. That's enough. Bea.

Self Centered

Thanks for all the comments. I am still confused about my reaction to what felt like way too much attention from men. I am sure my anxiety has to do with the sexual abuse and its long term implications in my life.

And now for the fat implications. When I first lost weight I was delighted with the renewed male interest. Not so a year later. Now it just pisses me off. And it may also be stopping further weight loss. I hate feeling exposed and vulnerable. Somewhere along the line I lost the delight with being thinner and found the fear of being thinner. I am comfortable being fat. I know who I am fat. Thinner I was lost. (I know this is not a new story for any of you.) I fear the power thin gives a woman. I am not used to feeling powerful and the feeling unnerves me.

So much for my great insight.

We got the garage painted. Yeah. Mark has been gone for the past three days and I have spent them all mowing the lawn. Phooey. Two hours a day with an electric mower is all I am good for. I still have two more sections to do. I am too uninterested in gardening for this much lawn.

Much thinking to do about my not really wanting to be thinner. Good thing I have so much lawn to mow, huh?

Take care. Love Bea

Fair of Face

We took last weekend off. We went to Shakespeare in the Park one night and to a dinner/dance the next. The dog loved Macbeth. She barked each time the witches came on stage. Bea did not love the dinner/dance.

For starters I had to go alone. Mark is gearing up for a huge trial and had to unexpectedly be out of town to interview some witnesses. Friends offered to save me a spot at the dinner, so I thought no worries, right? Wrong. I have lost a couple of pounds and I have a tan. My brownish hair is streaked and more blond than usual. And I look good in pastel blue. I wore a boat neck light weight blue cropped top and capris. I even painted my toenails and wore wedgie sandals. I wore dangley earrings and couple of gold bracelets. I looked classy and attractive. Even I could see it.

I knew I was in trouble when I walked in and a friend's husband said "Wow" and got up to give me his chair. Then another friend's husband winked at me and said, "You were sure worth waiting for." Good grief. Both wives looked at me like I was some wanton hussy, and the atmosphere turned abruptly frosty. Things went down hill from there. Drinks began mysteriously appearing in front of me. One husband spent the majority of the evening staring at my boobs, while the other one sat next to me and rubbed my elbow. I kept trying to engage the wives in conversation. I made deprecating remarks about myself. I refused the alcohol and drank coke. I did not dance with anyone. Nothing helped. I felt like and exposed flower with pollinators on every side. I'm not sure when I have felt this uncomfortable. I left early.

What the heck happened?

I was there alone. I had forgotten the protection from mashers a husband offers. I was relaxed and happy with myself. Confidence attracts men, and women for that matter. I need to remember this when I feel fat and ugly. I took time with my grooming. For a change I was more than just missionary clean. Amazing what a little perfume and fingernail polish can do. And finally, I had lost a few pounds as a result of eating better. I felt healthy. It makes all the difference.

Now, I have to figure out why I felt sooooo "bad" as a result of all this unwanted attention. I used enjoy attracting men. Not anymore. I felt unclean. And guilty. And I didn't do anything. I was friendly and acted like I always act around these men. I was covered from clavicle to knee in a modest outfit. I left early. And still I felt and feel guilty. And exposed.

If any of you have thoughts about my experience I'd sure be glad to hear them.

Take care, Love Bea.