Author Archives: Black Bird

Food: The Afterthought

Many people who have never experienced obesity have the misconception that all obese people do is eat all day in large quantities. This has never been the case for me. Except for during my pregnancy food has always been an after thought.  A meal was something I forced myself to eat because I had to not because I wanted to. Food is usually the last thing on my mind because I am generally preoccupied with all the other activities for the day, my next creative commentary, a discussion or debate I’m in the middle of or I’m simply focused on taking care of my son.

My problem with food is not the amount, but the type. We live in a fast food nation and I am not immune. McDonalds is my drug of choice when it comes to food. I refer to it as such because I know how bad it is for me, but it’s easy, quick and cheap. Working for a local Mickey Ds was my first job and that is where my addiction starts. We got free meals on our breaks and when I first worked there it was whatever meal we wanted. A few years later it would be reduced to specific meals for free and discounts for the others, but unlimited soda was always a constant. 

Sometimes it was a challenge making the normal meals interesting. We would mix and match what we had on hand to make something new. I would take a normal quarter pounder and remove everything, add bar-be-que sauce and bacon. I used the bar-be-que sauce on my fries and there were some days I would just microwave some pickles as a snack. Along with our unusual creations (mine were actually pretty tame) there would always be the challenge of who could eat the most. When I was 16 I could pack away a double quarter pounder, large fry and large drink and not break a sweat. You would think I should have been over 200 pounds then, but I wasn’t.

I was active back then generally with Junior ROTC. I was involved in every team including the Athletic team so I was constantly burning off everything I ate. Even back then I had to consciously force myself to sit down and eat and while I could pack it away, that certainly wasn’t a daily activity. It was quite the opposite. There would be days where all I ate was soup crackers or Roman noodles. Sometimes team members or friends would have to remind me to eat something. 

Now that I am older it really hasn’t changed. Even at the beginning of my pregnancy when I was where I needed to be weight wise my husband had to remind me to eat. It was when I was laid off then placed on bed rest for a short time where I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. I loved my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and bacon and fried eggs. “I’m pregnant, I can eat what I want.” Now I didn’t eat large quantities then but I ate high fat and high sugar and barely left the house. I know part of it was depression. I cried nightly with the fear of what we were going to do once I had my son since I had no job in a society that wasn’t hiring, especially not pregnant women.

Once I had my son, luckily the depression part went with it so I can clearly state that it was my hormones in that case, though I never would have admitted that when I was pregnant. A few months after he was born I began a hiring process with a local agency that required a significant background check, but I eventually got another job that I am very proud of and have been there for over a year now.

Since having my son I have gone back to the same eating habits that sustained me up until pregnancy. Eat a little and when I do, to put it bluntly, it’s crap; easy, convenient fast food crap. Except this time, it’s not helping. I’m not as active as I once was, but also, nothing I have done has helped me drop the weight. Eventually I saw a doctor about it who took all my symptoms and figured out I had hypothyroidism. For all those who don’t know what that is, basically my thyroid, which regulates metabolism, is underactive and therefore I don’t process calories the way I should so I can’t lose weight as easily. In some women after they give birth it can be temporary. Unfortunately, in some rare occassions, it is permanent. Well, there I go being part of that minority within a minority again.

Right now I’m working on getting a proper dosage of medicine to help me get my thyroid working properly, but it will be something that I will battle with the rest of my life. While that absolutely sucks, it doesn’t change anything in regards to my problem with eating. I work 12 hour shifts over night. I work, I sleep, I eat a partial meal, I go back to work where I eat one more meal and the cycle starts again. I don’t get to eat three complete and generally I don’t get to eat even two complete meals in a day.

This will be another part of my journey. I have to get myself on a real meal schedule. When I wake up I need to eat something to get my metabolism going. This will be the hardest part as I haven’t officially eaten “breakfast” since middle school. This already throws things off for me. Then I need to substitute the crap for a decent rounded meal focusing on fruits and veggies with meat and a small amount of grain. All of this is common sense, but just because I know what I should be doing doesn’t mean I have been doing it.

A friend of mine does weight watchers which I have been tempted to do, but you know what scares me the most? The amount of food they have to eat. I don’t mean a small amount. I mean, to do the diet properly, they have to eat all of their points every day (with some exceptions). The amount of points could be ridiculously high. I know this stuff works as I have seen her lose weight since she started and I know what my husband was expected to eat when he did Nutrisystem and lost 50 pounds. I don’t think I have EVER eaten that much food in one day ever in my life. The idea of eating all that food seems so contradictory and yet I know exactly why it works.

Your body needs food to fuel it. Not only does it need food it needs the right type and fat and sugar don’t do it. If it doesn’t get the calories it is supposed to then it starts slowing down and soon shutting down the ability to burn the small amount you do bring in and keep you moving. In regards to fast food it can be a large amount calories in one sitting with only a small amount of food that is high in fat so you don’t process it correctly anyway. The results – you become a flabby butt eating nothing and looking like you ate a house on your lunch break.

Don’t get me wrong, it really isn’t weight I’m interested in and never has been. I would be happy being 200 pounds if it was all muscle, but that isn’t going to happen and I don’t really want it to. I’m not looking for body builder scary, but I am looking for intimidating. I miss the days of my flat stomach and toned muscular arms. Some could say I looked manly and I won’t lie, I have some manly features, but I will consider my mission complete when I can wear my tank tops and I look like I could knock someone out. Not only look like I could, but know I could. I want to be that woman that people look at and think “I don’t want to fuck with her.” Once I get to that point, then I can consider my work a success!

Trophies

While shaving my legs earlier I was opened up to a whole new world of retrospect. I had three decently sized bruises that I had absolutely no recollection of receiving. This isn’t exactly uncommon, but it just flooded back memories of my childhood.

As a kid I wasn’t reluctant to fighting. In fact, up until age 11 I was in one every 6 months. The good thing is those of us involved were smart enough not to get caught even if we were on school grounds and no one was dumb enough to rat us out. I grew up in an area where my friends and “enemies” were all the little brothers and sisters of gang members and were more than likely future gang members themselves. Now I’m not saying any of these kids brought heavy weaponry to school, but we were all pre-programmed with an acute awareness of the violence that surrounded us. I was involved in more than one fight that wasn’t simply one person against another, but group against group. Call it an elementary school rumble, if you will. I could take a punch and I was generally matched with someone my size or bigger because I could.

It all seems pretty laughable now, but the point is I never shied away from physical confrontations regardless of my opponent. Things changed when we moved from one coast to the other and fights weren’t quite as common so my focus turned from hand to hand to sports, specifically softball. What a better way to get out all of that extra energy than smacking a ball around?

I was always competitive sometimes to a fault. As a catcher in fast pitch I was dangerous. If you wanted to steal a base you could try, but you bet your ass my ball would be coming for your head as you slid in or I would be in your way if you tried to come home and the ball was coming my way. I could take it as hard as I gave it. I had no issues with taking a hit and I loved to steal bases. Unfortunately one of the side effects of playing hard is injuries.

For many people little black and blue contusions are something they cover up. Bruises are temporary imperfections as the result of a mistake or misstep, a visible indication of human frailty. Scars carry a story of embarrassment or violence and in some cases this is true, but in the case of playing hard those imperfections are anything but signs of delicacy. In fact, they are quite the opposite.

In regards to the focus of this article bruises show how strong we can be. Broken bones can be momentous occasions. I view them as trophies. They’re a visible acknowledgement of a physical accomplishment. They are an indication of a person who pushed past the pain and stepped out of a comfort zone in an attempt to reach a physical goal. Whether the goal is reached is irrelevant. As Arthur Ashe is quoted, “Success is a journey, not a destination. The doing is often more important than the outcome.”

Bruises, broken bones and scars are the little imperfections that help document our life story. I value every one of mine regardless of the circumstance, but the ones I most appreciate are those I earned. I don’t hide from my actions; I own them, I celebrate them and I cherish them. So I say bring on the pain and break out the indigo and violet clothes. So much better to bring out my black and blue trophies.

“Our scars remind us that the past is real.” – Papa Roach

Mismatched Legs

My short lived Army career was ultimately my doing. When I originally went to MEPS the doctor who examined me failed to inform me that I had flat feet. Whether he knew the cause or not remains to be seen as I haven’t found it noted in my records anywhere. I didn’t learn of this particular flaw until my first few days at reception. We had to stand on a box with a clear glass top, a light inside it and a mirror at the bottom. The Drill Sergent (DS) then examined it and told us whether we had high arches, regular arches or no arches. This would become handy to know when purchasing the correct running shoes for training.

I was originally informed I had one regular arch and one low, but upon arrival to the PX and putting on the running shoes I was in pain just walking around for 15 minutes in the store. Another DS put me back on the box and told me I had flat feet. Obviously, the science behind this particular test is subjective, but the second evaluation was true and I purchased the correct sneakers. If only those were all we wore I would have been home free. Unfortunately, the boots don’t have support and I wasn’t informed I needed any before I went in.

Through my time at basic we had many come and go for various indiscretions on their part and some with true medical reasons. We had one girl, I’ll call her Bee (as in Bumble), who had spent the last year in rehab due to stress fractures in her hip. This girl was an inspiration. She was gungho, loved her uniform and was about 5 foot 5 inches and maybe 110 pounds sopping wet. I could toss her like a rag doll, but that girl never gave up. She spent about 5 weeks with us when she started going back to the doctors because she started having pain in her hip again. She was pulled from training when they realized the stress fractures had returned. She was looking at possibly another year of rehab if they didn’t ultimately dismiss her from service.

My own story started about 2 weeks into actual basic training (reception was the first 8 days). My right knee began to swell up and so I had it checked out and was put on profile for the next few days. I was banned from doing the Victory Tower sealing my fate of going back to red phase if I was ever pulled from duty because of an injury. You can’t graduate basic without having completed the Victory Tower.

Well, as the weeks went on my swelling knee became a gigantic right calf. I didn’t even notice it until one of the girls pointed it out when we were in the shower. The look of disgust as she pointed to it was actually pretty amusing – “What the hell is wrong with your leg?” It had grown to almost the size of my thigh. I wish I had taken a picture for posterity.

This lead me back to the doctor and forced an overnight stay with the “sick” company so the DSs wouldn’t harp on me and I could focus on reducing the swelling by keeping ice on my leg. I was pretty much on crutches from that point on which screamed “pick on me.” Once I returned the next day and he prodded and poked my leg he determined that more than likely I had stress fractures at least in my right leg to which my eventual physical therapist would unofficially confirm was starting in my left as well so I had a choice to make. Get the problem officially diagnosed then treated but get pulled from training and go to rehab for the next 6 months to a year or go home now.

Keep in mind that you are still a piss ant while you are in training. Until you finish basic training you are unworthy and treated as such by everyone who has any sort of rank around you. Also, remember I stated my fate would have been sealed for returning once I was cleared to do so. Whatever phase you leave in would be the phase you return to and though I was pulled from training during white phase (they earned blue phase status literally the next day) because I hadn’t completed the Victory Tower my already 7 weeks of basic wouldn’t have mattered – I would have returned to day one. I had been officially serving in the Guard for almost a year by this point but, I had literally gotten married 4 months before I left for basic training and while none of these reasons are necessarily good excuses for leaving they are my justification for the choice I made. I wasn’t going to hope for the best during rehab having nothing but bi-weekly 5 minute phone calls and daily letters from my new husband to start over at day one of basic to once again get pulled at 7 weeks because the stress fractures had returned. I chose to walk away with the hopes of one day returning if I was found fit to do so.

It would be over a year later that I would have a different physical therapist inform me that I had minor scoliosis which resulted in my right leg being shorter than my left. This is what caused my knee and leg swelling and why combat boots are pretty much worthless to me. I will always have issues with my knees and legs because of it, but the one thing I regret is not getting my chance to serve. It was ultimately my choice and I take responsibility for it, but it is hard wondering what might have been. I’m not bitter. It is a part of life and having a name for the problem gives me some peace since I know now I probably wouldn’t have been able to continue much longer even in rehab.

Not being able to serve has pushed me in many endeavors. I’m happy to serve in other capacities that are more behind the scenes and I support our troops at every chance I get. Before my head DS dropped me off to my out processing company (the Rejects as we were so fondly nicknamed) he told me “I’m going to salute you one day.” While I may not be lucky enough to see that happen I can at least push myself to be worthy of those words without the rank and uniform.

Pumped for the Fight

I consider myself someone driven by sound. Silence denotes a calm that only ambient sounds of home life can compliment. If I just want to be at peace I need no other sound than my son scooting his blocks along the floor. Though not my choice of audio for meditation because the distraction of it can flinch you quickly to your feet and across the room when that sound turns from blocks on the floor to sobs or the even scarier no sound at all.

Meditation in the traditional sense is not something I generally take part in. For that all I need is a pen and paper and the creative juices flowing from them to truly put my mind in a state of ease. My preferred form of meditation involves gloves and a heavy bag – something I was lucky enough to receive as a recent birthday gift. As a friend of mine eloquently put it, my offering to the Gods is my blood, sweat and tears and my ultimate form of spiritual connection is partaking in the adrenaline rush of a “fight.” Lucky for me, it’s also good for cardio and muscle building.

Because I respond strongly to auditory stimuli music can truly ignite the fire to unleash that first blow. I would say I have a fairly eclectic taste in music, but the heart pumping type is pretty standard; heavy metal and hard rock. I have a play list that acts as a timer for my workout as well as guides me from warm up to full out hardcore to cool down. It contains various songs through out my life that got my blood boiling or helped me release that aggressive energy that would build up from whatever happened through out the day or simply because I woke up in a bad mood. I choose not to deny what some consider the negative emotions because, as humans, they are emotions we are intended to feel. Why deny them? As long as they don’t drive us to negative actions I say put them to some use!

Right now my playlist is just over 30 minutes long. I need to start slow and work my way up. Eventually I am hoping to work up to an hour adding more songs to the current playlist and creating others so I don’t get bored along the way. A lot of these songs were popular when I was in high school and since I only rarely listen to the radio these days, well, call it nostalgia or simply recognizing that high school was an emotional time. Whichever you prefer – it gets the heart rate up and the fist connecting.

At the current moment, I can put this song on repeat and it’s all I need to get me in the mood:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLrxT8Vu978

FULL PLAYLIST:

     1)   Youth of the Nation – POD 4:18

     2)   Whatever – Godsmack 3:28

     3)   Never Again – Nickelback 4:17

     4)   Bodies Hit The Floor – Drowning Pool 3:19

     5)   Monster – Skillet 3:07

     6)   One Step Closer – Linkin Park 2:35

     7)   You’re Going Down – Sick Puppies 3:07

     8)   Break Shit – Limp Bizkit 2:46

     9)   Last Resort – Papa Roach 3:33

    10)  Children of the Korn – Korn (featuring Ice Cube) 3:52

 TOTAL: 33:52

Make The Decision

I find that my journey is no different from anyone who needs to lose weight. There is a moment in your life where you say “I need to change this.” I am overweight and it started with my pregnancy. I was laid off from a job where I was constantly active and on my feet then placed on bed rest for a portion of my pregnancy, and then it all went down hill from there. I would sit in bed not being very active at times and just eat whatever I felt like eating. Prior to my pregnancy and for the first few months of it I was exactly where I wanted to be weight wise and I had the nice flat stomach I absolutely loved. Here I am now, fifty pounds overweight and my son is almost two years old.

I have had friends that had children around the same time I did and within nine months had lost the weight just by no longer being pregnant. I attributed my inability to do so to genetics as my mother has had issues with her weight since giving birth to us and left it at that. It was when I began getting run down and having no energy to do anything and yet the will to want to that I knew there was something more going on so this took me to the doctor. He put together all my symptoms and we decided that taking a synthetic hormone could help my mood and it has, in some ways, though in others maybe I’m just not taking enough or what have you to alleviate everything. Some of my symptoms have gotten slightly better and others have not. There isn’t much of an exact science in this case and so figuring out the right dosage will have to be part of my journey as well.

My story isn’t unlike a lot of other women, but my path very much is. Since the birth of my son I have found a renewed strength in my faith. My religious beliefs are very alternative and are even alternative within the sub-sect that I practice within. As a Celtic Reconstructionist I practice a religious tradition that perhaps only a few hundred others do. While it fits into the larger scale of paganism my tradition is a minority within a minority. This has pushed me to “put my money where my mouth” is in regards to what I believe and practice. There is no one else to lead the way for my child so if I don’t set the example he will have no understanding of the tradition I put all of my heart and soul into.

In my tradition there are various different positions one can hold just as there were in the ancient times. Within the Celtic tradition one can be, amongst other things, a Bard, a Healer, a Druid or a Warrior. I am the later. Some could say it is by choice and in some ways it is, but for the most part, just like anything else in faith, my thriving to be a Warrior is a calling. As such it’s time to put my money where my mouth is and stop putting off the practice and training that I have always wanted or intended or sort of done before and I am hoping this public proclamation and documentation will keep me on that track. Sadly, I make this decision right at a time of celebration that usually involves lots of eating and drinking so while I am starting this blog now, the journey truly begins once everything calms down. To quote Lao-tzu, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” so here it goes.

Blackbird
205 pounds

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