Six and a half things I learned about myself in 2007

Alright my friends, I am not quite at the point of self actualization that I am able to put together my top 10 of anything. Or even my top 5 of anything. I can't even actualize the world around me really.
But, I have discovered some things about myself and I'm compiling a list for you.

6 1/2 Things I Learned About Myself In 2007

1. I need to be super vigilant in this age of digital photography and on line photo posting about how I pose for photos and who I let take them.
2007 was not a banner picture year for me. Lets examine the evidence shall we....

My advice is do NOT let well meaning people who are shorter than you are (whether they are 7 years old or not) take your photo.
Don't let ANYONE take close ups.
Repeat to yourself, "even Madonna has adult acne" and don't let it beat you down.
Keep your frigging eye(s) open.
And most importantly, get rid of, or at least camouflage, those hideous superfluous chins. Perhaps a jaunty turtleneck?
2007 - year of the bad photo op.

2. Just because you make a plan doesn't mean it will be easy to follow.
I love what Anderson Cooper said in his book last year...I forget the name....with regard to New Orleans hoping that the levies would hold in case of a Hurricane....
"Hope is not a plan".
He is totally absolutely right. Hope is not a plan. Even plans are aren't easy to follow and just because you HOPE shit will or will not happen- that doesn't mean ANYONE is out there listening to what is going on in your heart.
I hoped I wouldn't lose my job. I hoped that I wouldn't lose my friends and a place that I believed in. I hoped that the government would see sense and keep the place up and running.
But nothing I hoped for with regard to my job happened.
There was a feeling that I got when one of my clients found a job.
Even a stupid $8 an hour Tim Horton's job.
There was a bigger feeling when I helped my one eyed carny get a drug plan - and medication.
It was pride. I was proud of what I did. And just because I hoped that I could continue to be proud of what I did, that didn't mean it was going to happen.
I have a plan now. Its not as good a plan as my hope - but maybe if I keep hoping, it will get better.

3. Food and I are not Friends.
At the start of 2007 the Doctor told me I was 100 pounds fatter than Tyra Banks is when she is at her fattest. I was 100 pounds over weight.

At first I didn't believe him.
Then I did the math.
And he was right.
Alot - 100 = still alot.
Good God in heaven how did that happen?
I mean, I wasn't at my fattest but, I was giving my fattest a run for her money. She was running slowly and out of breath but she was running nonetheless!
So I was determined that I would lose 10 pounds a month. Just 10. No problem. I could be done in one year. 10. That's it. I can take a good crap some days and lose 5 - so how hard could 10 be?
And for the first few months it wasn't hard at all. I lost 20 pounds in 2 months. Yay me.
Then I got sick - and stressed - and lazy - and stressed - and lost my job - and unemployed - and stressed - and lazy......and finally here we have ourselves arrived in December. I have gone back to the 100+ point 3 times this year. There was one point where NOTHING fit me. NOTHING. Even my fat pants turned in to just regular pants! That was a bad day to be me!
But I end December 22 pounds less than I started January.
I HOPE - and again - hope is not a plan - have I taught you people nothing? - that I can change.
For 7 weeks I have been meat/chicken/fish free. I dropped eggs a few weeks ago - milk and yogurt and ice cream. I have had serious thoughts about cheese - but I'm not quite willing to let that go quite yet.
In January we will begin to examine our relationship with carbonation.
I'm trying to think about what I eat. I'm not on a diet, but I bought a belt for my new fatter fatpants the other day.
Sure, Tyra Banks will always look better than I do. But she hasn't had the pleasure of deep fried cheese stuffed olives now, has she?

4. Its not easy to make friends.
Sure, you've all read my previous blogs (you have haven't you?) about my year of the olive branch and how through the blind insistence of one friend I managed to find a tonne of great new friends but dammit - its hard.
I'm old. And some of my friendships seriously go back forever. I've had one friend for 33 years. Another two for 26 years. One for 23 years - and a bunch for 22.
That is amazing and I am truly truly lucky. I don't let people go once I find good ones.
But, having said that - I don't let people go once I find them even when the friendships are not so good anymore. Lets put that insight on the back burner for "resolutions 08".
This year was about busting out.
Making friends in new ways.
Using technology.
Changing my style.
Changing how I act in groups - how I assimilate and amalgamate who I am into a bunch of people. So no, not easy.
But good. Very very good and consider this my full two thumbs up recommendation for a 2008 resolution for yourself.

5. Cancer sucks ass.
Now, this could be where I give you the song and dance about how to never take your good health for granted. Live each day to the fullest. Be kind to others. Blah blah.
But, I won't - because you all know that.
It is the not knowing - the indecision - the imprecision - the unknown that is scary as fuck.
And that is what this year has been about.
My cancer is dormant.
Not gone.
Dormant. Sleeping.
And although my calm exterior may seem like all is good, inside my little head is a person running around screaming at the top of her lungs - "HOLYSHITHOLYSHITHOLYSHIT" on a constant loop.
I see another dermatological oncologist in January. I start the tests all over in January. And cancer, continues to suck ass.

6. I'm not a Mary. I'm a Rhoda.
I act like a Mary a lot.

But I'm not happy doing that.
In my best relationships - my favourites and the ones that I am most at ease, comfortable and happiest with myself in - I am the Rhoda.
I want to stand behind you.
I love to be the quirky, fun, brightly coloured one.
The paisley scarf-dress to your velvet pantsuit.
The perfectly coiffed and well liked Marys freak me out.
The fact that to someone - anyone - I may appear as a Mary is wildly disturbing. Almost upsetting to me.
If you need to ask why - then you don't know me very well at all.

6 1/2. I'm better than I think I am.
I've given this a half point because its something that I'm not so sure about at any given moment of any given day.
In my job, my marriage, with my kids, when I cook, when I eat, when I write, when I read, when I drive - I'm not as bad as I think I am.
I am way too hard on myself.
I judge myself ALL the time about everything.
I should stop that.
But I'm half sure that I'm half way there.

And that, my friends, is the truth.

Siiiiiiilent Night - Hooooooly Night

Today is Christmas. Yes it is. It comes every year whether you are ready or not. It brings with it an abundance of gift cards and too much food. Usually there is a family fight or two - just for good measure. This year at my house (and my Mother in Law's house) - no fights. All was calm. All was bright.
But, the day, for me at least, was not without controversy. In fact, I think I had a couple of major epiphanies. Silent ones that I kept to myself - but major nonetheless.
Our dinner conversation - and after dinner conversation this year centred on multicultural Canada and the celebration of religious holidays.
Now you see, the more I work with people who are new to Canada, it is my firm belief that Christmas as we know it is shyly disappearing all around us. The more we accept that Christianity is not the ONLY religion in this country, the less acceptable it is going to be that every last place in the universe save the Hasty Market is closed for 24 full hours.
Our whole retail system in the country is set up to encourage Christmas shopping by everyone far and wide whatever your religion and bargains bargains bargains know no secular prejudice.
To me this started with the shift to "happy holidays" and the disappearance of the Christmas tree. I don't disagree with respecting other cultures. Why should my religion dictate if you can buy KFC on a Tuesday. Okay - well, you shouldn't ever buy KFC but it was the first place that came to mind.
My husband thinks I'm insane. He said that it is a slippery slope and if we follow my point of view soon the insurance company will be insisting that he service insurance needs 24/7/365.
My Mother In Law (henceforth known as MIL) said that this country was formed on Christian beliefs and if you want to be here you better tow the line. Um - hello - did you not immigrate here lady? Um yeah. That's what I thought.
I pointed out that we are not a country of majority rule but one that accepts the faith of many. But in her mind it is he who yells loudest and the Christians have a mighty bellow.
My brother in law said nothing. That's his thing.
But - I walked away from the conversation (metaphorically of course) - MIL and husband continued to agree with each other for HOURS!
The epiphany in this gem - stubborn people don't listen. Not one bit. Don't even try.
Before that though - there was dinner itself!
I've been a vegetarian for what - a heartbeat - 2 months of my 41 1/2 years....barely anytime at all. Definitely not long enough to have established my vegetarian "rules".
Basically, I am fuelled by the righteous indignation of other vegetarians. I haven't established my "horror" points. Until, that is, tonight. Tonight, I, the only vegetarian in the house, was forced against her will to carve not only the turkey but the ham as well. UGH.
I know that I'm good at shit like that. I'm a fat girl who watches the food network. I can carve a turkey like a professional chef. But, just because you're good at something doesn't mean you have to do it.
I tried protesting. And again, this entered me into the great - "why are you a vegetarian anyway" debate.
I just am, I said. I just am.
Why is that never enough?
My husband says - "I am the one who suggested we eat less meat" "I am the one who said we should cut down on beef" "I don't understand why you think this is important NOW - all of the sudden" "I think its silly to have so many rules"
My MIL says "Are you doing this to lose weight - because it won't do you any favours" No. "But you still eat butter right?" No. "But eggs - right?" No. "Well you love ham - why not just try the ham?" No thanks.
And then both chime in on a lecture on MODERATION.
Why can't you just eat meat in moderation? Why can't you just try to cut back? If you just had a little of everything......?
I JUST DON'T EAT MEAT ANYMORE - THAT MEANS CHICKEN AND TURKEY AND HAM TOO AND NO I DON'T EAT EGGS AND I CAN'T THINK OF THE LAST TIME I HAD MILK AND OH MY GOD I DON'T EVEN WANT TO EAT CHEESE NOW - I JUST DON'T. NO I DON'T. PLEASE STOP TALKING TO ME ABOUT IT.
The Epiphany in this you ask?
My food. My business.
I will go to your house and eat what I want from what you serve. If there is nothing I can eat - I will eat nothing. End of.
This is not up for debate.
This is just how it is.
So what have we learned here today people on day that Santa throws Jesus a birthday party? We learned that people are who they are - can't change it - don't even try. That's the best way to keep that silent night silent and that holy night full of holes.
HO HO HO

Ho Ho Holy Crap

I am a good gift giver. Yep. Thoughtful and generous I always strive to get JUST the right thing.
Well, I try anyway. Lets see....
This year, I gave the mother in law slippers and gloves and a cookbook. Thoughtful? Sure it is because usually she complains that we all spend too much - this year - I obviously didn't! The slippers are the ugly ones she favours - and the gloves are old lady servicable isotoners - just the way god intended. As for the cook book? Well, if I didn't give her something to complain about she'd be disappointed - wouldn't she?
I gave the sitter a gift certificate for the only restaurant in town that doesn't make her "violently ill" or that she hasn't gotten food poisoning from. It was hard to find one but I, being a generous and thoughtful gift giver, did just that!
Other friends I will give their gifts in person. I will go to their house and I will let them belittle my house (they used to live next door). Then I will appropriately oooh and ahhhh when they show me all their new things. I will marvel at their giant tv. I will even say, just to be extra nice, "I wish I had one of those".
I will ignore the fact that their 17 year old is so stoned he can't speak properly. I will pretend that I've forgotten that their 14 year old daughter tried to commit suicide last month. And I'll even bring a pie.
The gift I give to them is that of feeling superior. It seems to make them REALLY happy. So, thoughtful and generous gift giver that I am - I will give that feeling to them freely and without asking for anything in return.
I don't normally give Christmas gifts to my friends. There are some exceptions but really - I just don't. I'm also bad with birthdays.
I tend to give gifts whenever I find them. Again - that's the thoughtful part.
So, having said that, if you are one of my friends and are waiting for me to give you a gift card from HMV - its unfortunate but you may be waiting for a terribly long time. Sorry.
To counteract this - I apparently am a very difficult person to buy for. Which I find just horrifying.
My Mother first told me this when I was a CHILD. What kid likes to be handed a wad of cash and told that they don't receive gifts well? Its disturbing.
My husband can't buy gifts - so he always asks me what I want. This has robbed me of my will to want stuff. I have learned just to be happy with what I get. Even the year that I ended up with slippers and a crock pot didn't suck that bad. Okay well it did. It really did.
Gifts are funny though - aren't they? - I think its all about the balance of power. The giver begs for approval - "oh I've tried so very hard to please you" and the getter gives or removes approval at will. Power struggles.
What does Shakespeare say?

for there is nothing either good or
bad, but thinking makes it so

Maybe I should just stop thinking so hard.
Generous and thoughtful my ass.

Crossing Over

As Christmas celebrations begin in earnest, I find myself sitting in the next room from my 9 year old son. He has sent himself to his room for what amounts to no reason at all and is reading and listening to music. Alone. Without the tv on. Or a video game attached to him.
This would not be remarkable in and of itself except that it is the very first time ever that this has happened.
I'm proud of him really!
Yay for having the wherewithal to entertain yourself when those around you have failed to entertain you.
Yay for not just sitting in front of the tv mindlessly which is what the rest of the family is doing.
Yay for being yourself.
Yay for escaping something that is bugging you and using music as your escape hatch.
But, this being Christmas time, I am reminded of holidays past and on how many occasions I escaped to the sanctity of my room.
Ah.
My room.
When I was a kid we had a house on the street where my cousins also lived. Which was good because our house was always full of family - but bad because our house was always full of someone.
I had a cool bedroom. TWO closets! But TINY. I wanted more space. So, I asked my younger brother with the bigger room that had NO closet to switch with me. Amazingly (and to this day I don't know why) he agreed. So, we switched rooms.
It was an older house and my new room had floral wallpaper - ugh - so I asked my parents to paint it before I moved in - which they did. Eventually.
This was in the summer before I started grade 10.
But it took them from the summer through to February to do it! Granted, there was about a dozen layers of ugly wallpaper and the walls were in rough shape - but I was homeless for months...or was I?
As a teenager I had the ultimate escape room. I had the family trailer - parked in the drive way of our house - that was my room for almost 6 months!
It was so cool - almost like having my own apartment. But without food or running water or a toilet.

In the winter I had a space heater on a timer and my dad would only allow me in my "room" when the heater was on (after 9) and it was cold as hell. But it was cool.
Now, if I'd had cool friends with booze and pot who wanted to come over and sneak in and have sex, I would have some kick ass stories to tell you wouldn't I? But I didn't.
I never had one - no not one - friend over to my bachelorette pad.
I never snuck anything illicit in or out of the trailer.
It didn't have a phone.
Or cable.
I had my 12" black and white tv with a metal coat hanger as an antennae and my turntable. They sat on the fold down kitchen table at the front.
I used to play Duran Duran's Rio over and over and over those six months. Sure, I know all the words to all of the songs now, but for the life of me, I can't think of why I liked it. I prefer to think at this point that it was peer pressure!
I liked Rio because a boy gave it to me. And I liked the boy. Boys give me a lot of my music in my life.
The only one that I truly compromised my principles for was the boy that was totally into Springsteen. God love him (and I was all kinds of fucked up over him) he was not very attractive, not particularly nice, not terribly bright, drove an awful car and had hideous taste in music. I don't even think he liked ME which is usually enough to sway me. But, I'm getting off track here...
So, there I am, in my 6 month trailer secondment. Sleeping cold. And I loved it. Because, like Ben, I could hide away. I could turn on music and escape into my head. I could read and be a million miles away. I didn't hate my life like a normal teenager - but, I needed to know that there were other lives out there for me. In my room is where I figured that out.
Sometimes you just need to be quiet to hear what you're telling yourself.
Good for him for figuring that out.

Really Now

Stop making ambiguous comments.
They are getting on my nerves.
Why won't you just come right out and say what the fuck you mean?
If you aren't careful - I'm just going to ask you what the hell it is that you mean.
Are you surprised by my boldness?
You can't deny that you're wasting my time.
I think that your inability to articulate what you really think is a sure sign that you aren't worth my patience or the time that I'm spending with you.
I need to move on - away from YOU and sooner rather than later.
Gr.
Of course I'm angry with you.
How can you even think that I wouldn't be?
You are the most self obsessed ego maniacal pain in the ass I have ever met.
You must be living right up the crack of your own ass not to notice what's going on with me.
Me.
Yes me.
When was the last time you paid attention to anyone but you?
Its about your fun. Your unhappiness. Your joy. Your family. Your friends. Your life. Your cock. Your tits. Your ass. Your problems.
You must stop thinking that everything is about you.
You probably think that THIS is about you - don't you?
My blog. My story. Not that you even give a flaming fuck enough to even read it.

Life skills

I am amazed at my natural ability to take any situation and use it to make myself feel like a hunk of shit. Piece of dirt. Loser. Nothing. Idiot. Pig. Moron.
I can take any innocent perfectly normal conversation and find offense.
I can take a complement and see the evil in it.
I can hear a question and twist it into an order.
I can take a statment and make it into an insult.
I'm not sure how I developed this amazing ability. I don't know what twisted warped thing happened to me, no doubt in my childhood, to make me feel this way. I don't even know that I want to know in case it makes me even more insanely sensitive.
The other day I drove through the Taco Bell drive thru, as obsessive compulsive eaters often do by the way, and the nice lady at the drive thru said "you look nice today". I took this as a sign that I go to Taco Bell too much and haven't been back. She was likely just being nice. But I can't deal with that. And her kind words cost her a customer.
Once when my husband and I were fighting he said something about the kids not taking a bath everyday. And I screamed "so now I'm a bad mother?" I knew that wasn't what he said - but it was what I heard.
I always purport to not be one of those fat chicks that has low self esteem. And if you know me well enough to know my secrets you know that I have a manic depressive state of self esteem. High when I need it and running on empty most other days. Its insane really.
Is it that constant waiver between feast or famine of I'm fantastic and I suck that sends me into tailspins when someone says something totally innocent to me? I don't know.
Just yesterday my sweet Auntie Lois told me that the family is proud of me. Proud. Of me. Because I have done so well for myself in spite of the fact that I have no one.
I was a fucking basket case afterwards. I cried - I think I had a panic attack. Is that where you can't breathe and feel like your heart is going to explode out of your chest? Yes? Then that's what I had. It was scary sobbing heaving crying. UGH.
I know what she said was nice.
And I also know that she's wrong. I don't have "no one". I have family and friends. I have people who like me and people who love me. I am well respected in my profession and hopefully give a lot of myself to people who need it. But at that moment - when I processed it - in my head - I had no one. I was totally alone in the world.
On my own.
By myself.
Why can't I see through the crap and take things as they are intended?
Why does it take me 24 hours to sort my shit out? Why, even now, is it making me cry?
Self aware.
I like to think so.
I know what I like and what I don't.
I love honestly and openly and say virtually all of what is on my mind.
I am not afraid to tell people what I think.
But I have regret and sadness and unfulfilled potential and fear. Why can't I just ask them to leave?
To tell you the honest truth - the reason this is so easy to write is because I don't want to talk about it. I don't want anyone to try to help me work this through and get over it. Its mine. I own it. I can fix it or not fix it as I like.
Should I? FUCK. Yes I should its making me crazy.
Will I? I really don't know. I hope so.
Until then, I would suggest keeping your complements to yourself!

Old Blog - New Home

I wrote this blog a year ago today and thought I'd share it with a new perspective.

Aint it good to have friends?
Current mood: nervous
Category: Life

Once I went to a party and buzzed the apartment buzzer - and a guy answered the buzzer. Gawd he was funny. So funny. I ran up the stairs to the apartment to see who it was and I haven't left his side since.
Its rare to find someone who you love who loves you back. Sure he's gay but frankly, who these days isn't?
My best friend tells me when I look like crap and when I'm being a bitch. Honest without hurting me. He also loves me unconditionally and always takes my side as any best friend should. He was my best man of honour or whatever we called it. They say if you leave your best friend behind at the alter you married the wrong person - I'm not sure that's true - cause this way Rick and I never argue about money or sex.
Rick will be my kids guardian should my husband and I ever be killed in a horrible accident. Cheery thought eh? But seriously - I hope my kids learn from him how to live a life without compromise. Do what makes you happy - always follow your heart - take joy where you find it.
Everyone should seriously be so lucky as to have a friend like mine.

I even remember where my head was the day I wrote this - a year ago. I wrote it because I felt alone. Like I had one friend in the whole world who loved me and cared about me. I felt rudderless except for my one person pulling me home and reminding me of who I actually am and where I was supposed to be.

I was afraid to make new friends and meet new people. I didn't think they would like me - I wouldn't fit in. I was so comforted and comfortable with who I knew liked me that I just didn't think I could cope with new folks.

Last year, I won the lottery, of a fashion. I brushed mortality as we walked in opposite directions down a narrow hallway. We, as Canadians, apologized as Canadians so often do. And we went our separate ways.

I collected a few things on that walk. Some healthier self esteem. And a mother load of new friends.

Now some people don't believe that friends you have only on line have the same value as "real" friends. And I disagree. I have a healthy mix of both - some crossovers and its worked very well.

As a matter of fact, I had lunch with a bunch of people I used to work with the other day. And while I wouldn't have ever called them friends a year ago in my semi-self indulgent ruderlessness, I don't know what I would do without them now. They love me for "the loser that wears flip flops with a suit if I can get away with it" that I am. And not a lot of people will accept shit like THAT! Then they tell me that I'm dead inside and we all hug.

These are friendships totally out of my comfort zone and character. But if you don't stretch - you don't grow.

I grew around the world this year. Virtual strangers helped me cope with my life as best as virtual strangers can.

I have a hard time getting to know people. I really do. No. Seriously. It is hard for me to just be myself. This year I forced it. I joined the PTA. I met Moms and Dads and didn't act like someone else. I just was myself. And I think they liked me. I made friends and I was proud of myself for - again - pushing out of my comfort zone - I am part of a group. Not the leader - not the boss - just part.

From rudderless loser with one friend to joiner - group member - cyber friend. And I lost nothing. What was I afraid of? Whatever it was - lets hope it passed. The blog still holds true - he is an amazing friend - my best friend - and I never would have busted out without him.

a kiss is just a kiss

I've been a friend to the gay man for a very long time. Its something that I've done for so long I doubt I'd know at this point in my life how NOT to be one. Being a FAG HAG is a badge of honour, a walk of shame, something I pride myself on and the bain of my existance.

I have acted as the reserve prom, wedding or family party guest for all of my homo friends at one time or another. If my straightening services are required I shall be there for you. If you need someone to go with you to buy you a suit, I will be there (especially YOU - and you know who you are!). If you require a date for the company Christmas party who won't spill your beans, its me. I've done it forever. I will keep your secrets if secrets need to be kept.

And in return what do I get as your hag (a term which most, including me find offensive)? I get the attention. I get the affection. I get to be the only girl in a gaggle of boys and sure - they don't want to fuck me but they want to BE with me - and in most cases, that's enough.

I get love-a-plenty and shopping advice. Someone will watch chick flicks with me.

Someone will tell me I'm pretty and smart - cause they believe it - not because they want to get some.

And yes, it is good for my self esteem - usually.

But there are those times - when your faggots drop you for an anonymous cock (or 4) in the alley or a boy with a promise of forever - and its destructive and it hurts like someone ripped your heart out through your nose with a spoon.

Sometimes the hags fall for their gays - cause like I say - fag hags are attracted to boys - sometimes our hearts get confused and hurt.

Its best, when your gays kiss you, to hold your breath and think of England. Do some complicated long division in your head. Don't - whatever you do - DO NOT let yourself buy into the kiss. No matter how long it lasts. No matter if there is tongue or not (cause sometimes these things slip in by accident). No matter if he makes your insides all gooey like jello. No matter how hard he holds it - or you do. No matter WHAT - don't let yourself enjoy it!

How many girls have said after that one stupid drunken or stoned kiss goodnight, "I really felt something - maybe....". Maybe will kill you.

Sure they look great. They feel great. They love you or at least like you a lot. They smell (usually) like you could eat them up - but its all a trick.

Not by the gay. He's totally innocent in this. He knows not what he does.

Its a trick that you are playing on yourself. Wishful thinking is a cruel mistress.

The other night - I was out - had a few drinks and met a few new people. I met a new cute boy - yum - who looked fantastic and smelled like heaven. When we left, I kissed him goodbye. It was a good one. Firm and soft and just a bit of tongue. One of those kisses that could go for hours if you left your head. But even drunk on double Gin and tonics and a promise, I stopped short. I pulled away before I let myself go. Smart girl.

Except later that day I found out he wasn't gay. He wasn't gay. Not gay. What the flaming fuck?

I have to stop assuming that everyone I meed is gay. It robbed me of good kisses. It robs me of adventure. It makes me a GIANT fag hag - and that is not always a good thing.

Sometimes a kiss is just a fucking hot wet warm really good kiss.

Fag Hag. My definition: A girl, usually a fat girl, who for one reason or another endears herself to one or more gays. Over time, the number of gays she gathers may expand and contract - usually though - there will be a primary gay. The role of the hag is to support, stroke egos, act as confident and overall BFF - to tag along, to follow and to become part of the entourage.
Out of her gay environment, the fag hag may appear just as a normal girl. Sometimes fag hags can marry and procreate although this is rare as the only men she usually meets are gay. She may be sad -deep down inside and full of wasted potential.

Image courtesy of damnstraight.oversampled.net