So, it's been a while since I posted anything, but I'll explain that later. I've had some Saturdays off due to family obligations; one for my my daughter's birthday and another for the 66th Annual Greene Reunion which is always held on the last Saturday in July. My mother-in-law is a Greene...her father was a Greene as well as his 13 brothers and sisters. They all got married (not to each other of course), made more Greenes, and so on, yada yada yada, and hence, the Greene Reunion.
I've missed the last 2 reunions, which I was reminded of when I showed up this year. Several people came up to me and said that they hadn't seen me in a while. Well, I have a family too (albeit a crazy one), but we too occasionally are required to come together and do family things. And since I gave 30 days notice explaining why I was going to be absent, I was excused and forgiven.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
The Train Station...(aka The Bridal Diaries)...It Is What It Is...
I wish I was playing basketball right now. That's the random thought that popped into my head as I stared at the cement wall, stretching out my burning thigh and trying to catch my breath. I was at the gym, in the middle of a tortuous workout (with my trainer Zack) that was kicking the crap out of my legs.
We started this whole blessed event with knee lunges. This is where I take a step, dip one knee down to the ground, then stand back up, step out with the other leg, dip the knee and stand back up, all while holding ten pounds in each hand. I must do this about half the length of the gym and back again...three times. I really shouldn't complain; Zack lets me do other miserable exercises in between, to show me that there are even more ways to make my thighs feel like jello.
Rapidly following the lunges are the ever-so-lovely aerobically-challenging step up...step downs (on and off a stool) while carrying ten pounds in each hand. Thirty times I must do this process...three sets. But just to spice things up a bit between sets, I get to do wall-sits for 30 seconds. Of all the things that could make me swear, those dang-nasty wall-sits are at the top of the list. I absolutely hate wall-sits. This is where you have to lean your back against the wall then sit real low as if in a chair. Oh, the burning and the trembling...and the pain...oy vey! This is called muscle overload and apparently you want this to happen. The muscle tissue has been ripped and torn apart, and now must work to restore itself, thus requiring energy...aka burn calories to do so. I guess there is some truth to "no pain...no gain."
I finished up the whole brutal thigh-beating with a 50 minute walk-run. Ok, it was more walking than running, but it's hard to do any movement when you can't feel your legs.
Any who, in my year's journey to a better me, I'm finding out that I'm a lot stronger than I thought I was...emotionally, physically and mentally. When Zack did my measurements about 2 weeks ago, I lost inches everywhere (except my calves...I've always had big muscular calves) and I gained 3 inches in flexibility. Total weight loss...(drum roll please)...4 pounds (wha...whah).
I knew that my weight hadn't changed much and I really didn't care at this point. I looked different, I'm wearing smaller sized clothes now (rather hip, I might add), and I feel more confident. I felt like "Mike", the green one-eyed creature from "Monsters Inc.", when he saw himself on the cover of the magazine. It didn't even seem to bother him that most of his face was covered up by the UPC label...he was just so excited to be "on...the...cover...of... a...magazine!"
The fact that I didn't lose any significant amount of weight didn't bother me at all; I just relished in the fact that I lost a bunch of inches...I was shrinking...and I was doing it the hard way...blood, sweat (tons of it) and tears.
I was expecting the "disappointed with you" speech from Zack. It would be hard to hear, but I was ready to own my lack of eating better. After all, I thought to myself, 'it is what it is.' But you know what? He was really cool about it. Although he did say that he had expected to see more weight loss, he was proud of me. He looked at me with those piercing blue eyes and told me that tomorrow was a new beginning.
Aw...that softy. I wanted to smack his arm and say "you like me...you want to train me....train me and like me", but I didn't, on account that it would totally freak him out. Instead, I've been bringing him salads, made with lettuce, cucumbers and onions from the garden. And I've been trying to be more responsible in eating better. I'm coming to grips with the fact that eating well AND exercising is the only real healthy way to lose weight...who knew?
As I continue along my path to health and healing, I will allow myself to enjoy food though. I'm not going to become obsessed about my weight. I'm almost 43 now, and my goals are different then they were when I was in my 20's or 30's. I must be kind and forgiving to myself and not be pressured to fit a specific mold.
I must take better care of myself, though, and Zack is helping me with that. More importantly, God in his unfailing love and mercy is showing me that it's ok to love myself...for in doing so, I can then truly love others with the same love that I've received.
However, me loving me is a very foreign concept; but I must allow God's grace to show me how. To allow myself to see me as God does...his beautiful creation, created in his image, and loved beyond measure. I have to tell you that doing all this is really hard for me; believing that God cares about me and wants to be involved in my healing process.
We started this whole blessed event with knee lunges. This is where I take a step, dip one knee down to the ground, then stand back up, step out with the other leg, dip the knee and stand back up, all while holding ten pounds in each hand. I must do this about half the length of the gym and back again...three times. I really shouldn't complain; Zack lets me do other miserable exercises in between, to show me that there are even more ways to make my thighs feel like jello.
Rapidly following the lunges are the ever-so-lovely aerobically-challenging step up...step downs (on and off a stool) while carrying ten pounds in each hand. Thirty times I must do this process...three sets. But just to spice things up a bit between sets, I get to do wall-sits for 30 seconds. Of all the things that could make me swear, those dang-nasty wall-sits are at the top of the list. I absolutely hate wall-sits. This is where you have to lean your back against the wall then sit real low as if in a chair. Oh, the burning and the trembling...and the pain...oy vey! This is called muscle overload and apparently you want this to happen. The muscle tissue has been ripped and torn apart, and now must work to restore itself, thus requiring energy...aka burn calories to do so. I guess there is some truth to "no pain...no gain."
I finished up the whole brutal thigh-beating with a 50 minute walk-run. Ok, it was more walking than running, but it's hard to do any movement when you can't feel your legs.
Any who, in my year's journey to a better me, I'm finding out that I'm a lot stronger than I thought I was...emotionally, physically and mentally. When Zack did my measurements about 2 weeks ago, I lost inches everywhere (except my calves...I've always had big muscular calves) and I gained 3 inches in flexibility. Total weight loss...(drum roll please)...4 pounds (wha...whah).
I knew that my weight hadn't changed much and I really didn't care at this point. I looked different, I'm wearing smaller sized clothes now (rather hip, I might add), and I feel more confident. I felt like "Mike", the green one-eyed creature from "Monsters Inc.", when he saw himself on the cover of the magazine. It didn't even seem to bother him that most of his face was covered up by the UPC label...he was just so excited to be "on...the...cover...of... a...magazine!"
The fact that I didn't lose any significant amount of weight didn't bother me at all; I just relished in the fact that I lost a bunch of inches...I was shrinking...and I was doing it the hard way...blood, sweat (tons of it) and tears.
I was expecting the "disappointed with you" speech from Zack. It would be hard to hear, but I was ready to own my lack of eating better. After all, I thought to myself, 'it is what it is.' But you know what? He was really cool about it. Although he did say that he had expected to see more weight loss, he was proud of me. He looked at me with those piercing blue eyes and told me that tomorrow was a new beginning.
Aw...that softy. I wanted to smack his arm and say "you like me...you want to train me....train me and like me", but I didn't, on account that it would totally freak him out. Instead, I've been bringing him salads, made with lettuce, cucumbers and onions from the garden. And I've been trying to be more responsible in eating better. I'm coming to grips with the fact that eating well AND exercising is the only real healthy way to lose weight...who knew?
As I continue along my path to health and healing, I will allow myself to enjoy food though. I'm not going to become obsessed about my weight. I'm almost 43 now, and my goals are different then they were when I was in my 20's or 30's. I must be kind and forgiving to myself and not be pressured to fit a specific mold.
I must take better care of myself, though, and Zack is helping me with that. More importantly, God in his unfailing love and mercy is showing me that it's ok to love myself...for in doing so, I can then truly love others with the same love that I've received.
However, me loving me is a very foreign concept; but I must allow God's grace to show me how. To allow myself to see me as God does...his beautiful creation, created in his image, and loved beyond measure. I have to tell you that doing all this is really hard for me; believing that God cares about me and wants to be involved in my healing process.
Well, gotta go now and put my words into action...as in walk/run/jog/walk/run/jog/ then a whole lot more of walking on the treadmill. I have higher powers to which I must answer; the one WAY high up...and the one with the piercing blue eyes.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Train Station...(aka The Bridal Diaries)...Once Upon a Time...
After Mindy's divine encounter with Carrie, the rest of the day was pretty quiet. There was this cute blond that came in with her friend, asking if we had party or "reception" dresses. Let me expand on this term. Apparently, the current trend in regards to wedding dresses is that one is not enough. Now, women need one dress for the ceremony and then one for the reception, hence the term "reception" dress. I guess weddings of today are more like Taylor Swift concerts with outfit changes between sets.
This little chick-a-do explained that her wedding was next month (July) and although she already had a dress, she felt that she would be too hot in it, since the ceremony and reception were going to be held outside.
Here she had already spent $800 on a dress and now is willing to spend more for another one. And, with the wedding less than three weeks away, she would have to buy something off of the rack since it was too late to order anything for her.
She picked some dresses out and fell in love with the first one she tried on. Literally, she LOVED it. When she came out to the three-way mirror, her whole countenance changed. You know why? Because it was the dress she was meant to have. There she stood in a billowing fairytale gown made of layers of soft dotted-swiss netting. It was perfect for a naturally beautiful young girl. It was very romantic and youthful, with a bit of whimsy, like her. The color was ivory, but it was more like buttermilk and was so pretty against her fair skin. I didn't know much about this girl but I knew this dress defined who she was at heart. And the cherry on top was that it fit her perfectly...no alterations needed except for a bustle.
Now, the girl who was with her was a true friend because she tried to keep this distracted bride from making another bad decision. It's not that she didn't like the dress; she was truly worried about the cost.
The bride-to-be did come down from the clouds enough to tell me that she had bought her original dress last August from a bridal shop that has since gone out of business. She had the dress with her and I asked if she could bring it in and put it on for me and Mindy.
When she walked out with her dress on, I didn't say anything right away. Standing there in front of the mirror, she looked pretty. It was a completely different dress than our dress, so I couldn't really compare the two. It was strapless, sweetheart neckline, A-line, in white satin with crown-shaped gold embroidery all over the dress. It fit her curves very nicely, but it just seemed too formal...too old for her. I kept wanting to say "Anastasia...oh my Anastasia!" Give that girl a velvet robe and satin gloves, and she's ready for her coronation as queen.
Still, I found myself obligated to talk her into keeping this dress. Some bridal associate I turned out to be; I should be trying to sell her a dress...not talking her into keeping the one she has. I brought out a gold satin sash that had the same pearls and crystals on it that her dress had and tied it around her waist. BAM! It was the perfect accessory...as if it was meant to go with it in the first place. Man, I'm good. Then Mindy and I played dress up with this life-sized barbie, picking out earrings and necklaces and hair pins and flowers to go in her hair.
After we were done playing barbie, the overwhelmed bride did feel better about keeping her dress. She was going to order the belt, but later. She and her friend thanked us and left the shop, with the original dress in hand.
About a half hour later, the girl came back and proclaimed that she had to have the fairytale dress. She couldn't stop thinking about it. She tried it on again and was transformed into the woodland fairy princess (minus the wings) that had danced out of the dressing room an hour ago.
Mindy and I once again played barbie, accessorizing our fairy princess from head to toe. I got so caught up in the moment that I suggested that she put her hair up in a messy bun, accentuating it with a white silk flower hair clip above her ear. I went to show her how to do this style but stopped suddenly, with a wad of her hair still in my hand.
In the midst of my excitement, I totally forgot about the fact that I had no clue how to style some one's hair.
I just plunged forward with the notion of showing this girl how a soft loose bun would compliment the romantic beauty of the dress.
I had the picture in my mind and I had the (unusual) self-confidence to do it. It was the realization that I didn't know HOW to do it that made me stop. If she would have asked me if I knew what I was doing...I would have said "No, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night."
The awkward moment ended when I opened my hand and let (the now) tangled ball of hair drop to the girl's shoulders. I regained most of my composure by diverting her attention to jewelry. I'm pretty ok with jewelry.
It was settled. This cute little apple-cheeked young lady was walking out of the shop with a new dress. Mindy, being the caring Mindy that she was, knew of a seamstress who sold dresses on consignment. She called the woman who was willing to take the dress.
So, as if by the wave of an imaginary magic wand, I witnessed a young woman enter as a plain jane but leave as a fairytale princess...minus the mice, the pumpkin and the midnight curfew.
Hopefully, she'll live happily ever after.
The End.
This little chick-a-do explained that her wedding was next month (July) and although she already had a dress, she felt that she would be too hot in it, since the ceremony and reception were going to be held outside.
Here she had already spent $800 on a dress and now is willing to spend more for another one. And, with the wedding less than three weeks away, she would have to buy something off of the rack since it was too late to order anything for her.
She picked some dresses out and fell in love with the first one she tried on. Literally, she LOVED it. When she came out to the three-way mirror, her whole countenance changed. You know why? Because it was the dress she was meant to have. There she stood in a billowing fairytale gown made of layers of soft dotted-swiss netting. It was perfect for a naturally beautiful young girl. It was very romantic and youthful, with a bit of whimsy, like her. The color was ivory, but it was more like buttermilk and was so pretty against her fair skin. I didn't know much about this girl but I knew this dress defined who she was at heart. And the cherry on top was that it fit her perfectly...no alterations needed except for a bustle.
Now, the girl who was with her was a true friend because she tried to keep this distracted bride from making another bad decision. It's not that she didn't like the dress; she was truly worried about the cost.
The bride-to-be did come down from the clouds enough to tell me that she had bought her original dress last August from a bridal shop that has since gone out of business. She had the dress with her and I asked if she could bring it in and put it on for me and Mindy.
When she walked out with her dress on, I didn't say anything right away. Standing there in front of the mirror, she looked pretty. It was a completely different dress than our dress, so I couldn't really compare the two. It was strapless, sweetheart neckline, A-line, in white satin with crown-shaped gold embroidery all over the dress. It fit her curves very nicely, but it just seemed too formal...too old for her. I kept wanting to say "Anastasia...oh my Anastasia!" Give that girl a velvet robe and satin gloves, and she's ready for her coronation as queen.
Still, I found myself obligated to talk her into keeping this dress. Some bridal associate I turned out to be; I should be trying to sell her a dress...not talking her into keeping the one she has. I brought out a gold satin sash that had the same pearls and crystals on it that her dress had and tied it around her waist. BAM! It was the perfect accessory...as if it was meant to go with it in the first place. Man, I'm good. Then Mindy and I played dress up with this life-sized barbie, picking out earrings and necklaces and hair pins and flowers to go in her hair.
After we were done playing barbie, the overwhelmed bride did feel better about keeping her dress. She was going to order the belt, but later. She and her friend thanked us and left the shop, with the original dress in hand.
About a half hour later, the girl came back and proclaimed that she had to have the fairytale dress. She couldn't stop thinking about it. She tried it on again and was transformed into the woodland fairy princess (minus the wings) that had danced out of the dressing room an hour ago.
Mindy and I once again played barbie, accessorizing our fairy princess from head to toe. I got so caught up in the moment that I suggested that she put her hair up in a messy bun, accentuating it with a white silk flower hair clip above her ear. I went to show her how to do this style but stopped suddenly, with a wad of her hair still in my hand.
In the midst of my excitement, I totally forgot about the fact that I had no clue how to style some one's hair.
I just plunged forward with the notion of showing this girl how a soft loose bun would compliment the romantic beauty of the dress.
I had the picture in my mind and I had the (unusual) self-confidence to do it. It was the realization that I didn't know HOW to do it that made me stop. If she would have asked me if I knew what I was doing...I would have said "No, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night."
The awkward moment ended when I opened my hand and let (the now) tangled ball of hair drop to the girl's shoulders. I regained most of my composure by diverting her attention to jewelry. I'm pretty ok with jewelry.
It was settled. This cute little apple-cheeked young lady was walking out of the shop with a new dress. Mindy, being the caring Mindy that she was, knew of a seamstress who sold dresses on consignment. She called the woman who was willing to take the dress.
So, as if by the wave of an imaginary magic wand, I witnessed a young woman enter as a plain jane but leave as a fairytale princess...minus the mice, the pumpkin and the midnight curfew.
Hopefully, she'll live happily ever after.
The End.
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