Health Nut

Well, my good friend and fellow blogger, Naadii, has been dedicating much of her blog to her fitness goals and regime. At first the message didn't sink in, but lately I've found the struggle inspiring.

I'm not much on weight loss. Don't get me wrong - I could stand to lose an Olsen twin or two. But I've never been inspired by weight loss as a goal. As an overweight child, I suffered constant criticism and disdain from family members about my weight. It was all cloaked in the guise of love and wellness, but in the end, my being a more presentable looking child warranted any degree of insult. This began years before I was blessed with an independent awareness of my own wealth and beauty, so I took what I heard as truth. I was ugly, embarrassing, and disappointing. This was further aggravated by the fact that I was a highly athletic kid, and I cared a lot about what people thought of me. I couldn't put the pieces together. It all seemed impossible and unfair.

My greatest hurdle in getting in shape has been wanting to avoid the satisfaction it will bring to the ones who hurt me. So sad right? They still have so much control. But, it's changing - slowly. I desperately want to be the healthiest person I can be. I've always been kind of a health nut when it comes to putting good stuff in my body and staying active, but I've almost avoided the weight loss aspect out of fear, shame, and hanging on to old s***. Well, I still plan to avoid it! Losing weight will be great, but I've decided that if I never step foot on another scale outside of a doctor's office that will be fine with me!

I want tight skin, a strong center, great muscle tone, and endurance. I want to be able to tumble again! Back bends, walkovers, standing back handsprings - all that stuff I used to do as a kid, while sucking a lolly pop and believing I'd have those moves forever. Along with Naadii and the rest of my girls, I'm ready to struggle to live my best life. Today I went on a serious walk for the first time in a long time. I took the dog, and we both drug our fat a**es home like we'd run a marathon. It was good though - mainly because I didn't want to do it, for all sorts of convincing reasons, but I got out there anyway.

It will be difficult, but I'm glad of that. I seem to not be able to do anything the easy way. And I'm sure the weight loss will come, as will the comments about how much better I look, and how they're glad I finally got it together. And it will hurt, but I won't let it deter me. The fight would be too easy without it, and easy has never been my game!

Bug Juice

When I was 9, my parents gave my sister a Kool-Aid stand. The point was to put it together, set it up on the street, and sell Kool-Aid. Well, my sister never did that (not for business anyway). But I decided that this was an opportunity for me to become the true financial impresario I was meant to be. There was one problem: not enough sugar. The day I opened my stand I had a choice to make. I had 4 packs of Kool-Aid and 3 cups of sugar. If I did it the right way, I'd choose two flavors (grape and red - the people's favorite, right?), and I'd proceed with the beginning of an empire. Somehow I got lost in flights of flavorful fancy. What if I had more?! I could use half the sugar and have four flavors! It was set. I'd sacrifice sweetness for selection, and invite the public into my flavorful utopia. I set up the stand. I brought out my pitchers, and opened my cash box.

10 cents for a small!

25 cents for a medium!

50 cents for a large!

I was ready. "Come one, come all. Experience the best refreshment in town!" 10 minutes went by. 15. 1 hour went by. 2. Finally, after 3 hours in 90+ degree conditions, I got a customer! A simple and honest working man, with no air condition in his pickup truck stopped at MY kool-aid stand for a drink! His truck was bright orange, with an anonymous bug on top. It was the Terminex man - our local rid-a-bug hero in the hood. He was a great public servant, and with high waters, mullet, and all, he'd chosen ME - yes ME - to provide the libations for quenching his thirst. I asked him, "What would you like? I have a good selection!" He said, "I'll take a large tropical punch please." Without hesitation, I filled his glass. I was short on sugar, but I was big on flavor baby! And I couldn't wait to take my first customer on the taste sensation ride of his life!

He took one gulp, looked at me like I had poisoned the fountain of youth, and spit the contents of his mouth out on the ground. He dumped the entire large cup onto the grass, and screwed his face up like a toddler on a pickle. He took a $5 bill out of his pocket, threw it on the counter of my Kool-Aid stand, and told me to shut it down!

I shut it down, and cried my eyes out. I knew where my weakness lied. It was the sugar! It was the damned sugar!!!!!! Why'd I have to go with four flavors?! Why not two?! Grape and Red are ALWAYS crowd pleasers!!!

This was one of my most important life lessons. When you've made a poor choice in judgment, don't be salty. Suck it up, and take responsibility. I mean, it wasn't the bug man's fault the kool-aid was bad. Learn from your mistakes. Own your own misjudgment, and move forward with accountability.

Today, my Dad told me to call someone to inspect his house for termites. I thought about it for a minute. "No problem Dad! I got this! But I'll be damned if I'm going to call Terminex!" Those mother f*****s owe me a dream, dammit! They owe me a dream!!!

Keeping the Faith

My father went to church last week and listened as the pastor preached a sermon about prayer - and more specifically - how we respond when our prayers seem to go unanswered. It reminded me of another sermon I heard once in which the minister spoke of Christ being hidden in our suffering. His words frightened me at first. I'd encountered the concept of a "hidden Christ" in the classroom, from a theological perspective, but to sit in the pews and have to ask, "Why the hell is Christ hiding at my most desperate hour?!!" left me angry and grappling. I almost dared the minister to come up with some happy revelation, like the end of the "Footprints" story that hangs from the walls of rest homes and dorm rooms. The preacher said that it is when we are most lost and vulnerable that we encounter Christ in the midst of our suffering - nothing magical or mysterious - only blessed, painful, humbling, and true. The message was so adverse to the ministry of prosperity that has padded the pockets of the new age Christian movement. It was a sermon that didn't make money. (And, apparently, all sermons should make money.) His message was that alone in our suffering, we come face to face with ourselves and our God. Muslims are cast prostrate facing Mecca, Jews mutter sage morsels of the Talmud, Hindus chant a lullaby of Oms, and Christians drop their baggage at the foot of an empty cross. We all, in our suffering, are united in taking heed to the voice of the painful and joyful paradox that beckons, "Even in your greatest suffering, you are never alone, because you are not your own."

Humorist David Sedaris once wrote about his grandmother (YaYa) moving in with his family in Raleigh, North Carolina when he was a child. She embarrassed the s*** out of them at the Greek Orthodox Church when she crawled on her hands and knees, up the center aisle of the sanctuary, wailing and eventually clinging to the pastors feet. I laughed so hard I cried! The image was comic and ridiculous. This little old Greek lady, dressed in black, displaced from her home and all she knew, causing a scene in a public place. As I thought more about it, I laughed less. YaYa did not know the pastor or the congregation, but she knew there was something there. Beyond the pews and the incense, the pastor's robes, the vaulted ceilings, and the pious churchgoers looking on in embarrassment. It was something that no contribution to a collection plate could alter or erase.

No one really cares what they look like when the answers to fervent prayers lie in waiting. No one cares whose ashamed when sadness or loss leaves us grasping for hope. In her suffering, she crawled up that aisle toward a painful, humbling, and blessed truth. She is not alone, because she is not her own. I guess, there is no comedy or tragedy in that.