Adina’s Cute & Perky Blog!

I was on the phone with my friend  Shane yesterday while I was at the store.

This man, who I do not know, saw me walk  in.

He comes right up to me while I’m  still talking and says, “You got a minute?”

Literally the phone was in one hand, while my other hand steered the  buggy.

“Huh? Do I know  you?”

“No.”

I ignore him and go back to talking.

Again he says, “You got a minute?”

“For what?”

And just like a  bad movie he slides his hands across his non-muscular, non-hot body and says yet  again, “You got a minute for this?”

Sadly, this was not a joke.

I  looked him over.

Top to  bottom.

I have no doubt that I rolled my  eyes when I said, “No thank you. I do not have a  minute.”

I’m southern. I know the  thank-you was not necessary where some of you are from, but it is in the  south.

Even bad manners do not dictate  bad manners in my neck of the woods!

I  went back to my conversation with Shane. He’s my classmate from California. I  don’t like it when people infringe on my time with him….or her. He cross  dresses. I’m not really sure!

But the  random, unfortunate stranger just stood there.

Why? I do not know.

He  counters my no thank-you with, “I can’t believe you don’t got a  minute.”

He doesn’t know that I used to  teach English, and I am circling his grammar mistakes with the red pen in my  head.

It began to sink in that he wasn’t  going to leave, and he was standing a little too close for my comfort. He  was….in my zone.

Then it occurred to me:  what good have I done if I cannot take the lessons of the gym and apply them to  my life?

Someone wants to take my gym  time? No, they can’t.

Someone wants me to  eat off plan? No.

Someone wants me to go  back to my old ways? I just don’t think so.

Because I learned that I don’t have to let anybody mess with my  healthy lifestyle.

So, it stands to  reason that nobody should mess with me.

The old Adina would have said, “OK. I’ll skip the gym this one time  for you.”

Or, “OK, we can go eat  out.”

But this Adina remembered and  applied yesterday…

Because…

I told my classmate,  “Hold on.”

And then I looked up and said,  “I’ve already told you three times I’m not interested in anything you have to  offer. I don’t have a minute to spare, and even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to  you.”

I left him standing there,  muttering something about minutes.

And  like with everything else, I didn’t look back to see what became of what I left  behind.

I just walked  on.

Because some things, like bad food,  bad habits, and even bad people, are better left in the  past!

And believe it or not, I saw him at  the gas station a few hours later.

I did  not have to say a word, because I had already taken my  stand.

And yeah, he was still muttering  about minutes.

Evidently, I have passed the point where everyone expected me to  keep the weight off.

I was at Jonah’s  Open House.

I used to work at this  school. It was back at my heaviest weight. In fact, the smallest they ever saw  me weigh was 240 pounds. (Yikes!!)

The  first year I came back for Open House, they were a little  shocked.

By the second and third year  they were just telling me I looked good.

Last night was the fourth time.

I wasn’t thinking about my weight or weight loss at all when I  walked through the doors.

It was a little  bit of a milestone for me. I didn’t fret or worry about what I wore. I just went  as I was. I didn’t rush home to put on my skinniest outfit. 

I was just a  mom.

There to see my son’s  teachers.

But…

No sooner had I walked in when someone shook her head and said, “You  still look good. Every time I see you, I’m just so proud of  you.”

I thanked her, blushed, and went  on.

Wasn’t expecting  that!

Two doors  down.

This time, “Wow. You still look  good.”

Through the main hall, “I can’t  believe you still have your weight off.”

Still.

I lost track of how many  times I heard that word.

I had a count at  first, but I lost it somewhere along eight or nine.

Jonah even had to ask, “Why do people keep saying  that?”

And, as a person rarely short for  words, it pained me to say, “I don’t know, son.”
Because I didn’t. And I still don’t.

I thought about it that evening, and I thought about it this morning  when I woke up.

It didn’t overtake me or  anything.

I still thought my usual, happy  morning thoughts this morning.

I  pictured the face that makes me smile.

I  got the boys up and ready.

I did my usual  things.

But every once in a while, I  would think…still.

Are they  expecting me to fail?

Or are they  genuinely surprised I have not gained?

Who knows?

It doesn’t really  matter.

What matters is that I made  it.

And I am not surprised that I am  still here!

Now, that doesn’t sound like something you should have to try to do, but for me it was.

It was a small, indoor one…

And it wasn’t meant for a woman my size.

One of my truly humiliating moments along the way.

My ex thought I wasn’t allowed to ride, because we didn’t pay extra for me to ride with Micah.

But I had heard the bell go off.

And I saw it in the operators face as he walked over to me.

I cut him off before he could say it or my ex could hear it.

“I can’t ride, can I? I need to get off, don’t I?”

He was a teenage boy trying to be kind. He had a look somewhere between compassion and laughter. He didn’t laugh at me then, but I know he did later when he told his friends.

And I could not blame him.

I was allowed to stand next to Micah as he rode, but I was not on one of the animals.

It was the longest ride of my life.

Longer than any drive I had ever taken.

I have driven from Nebraska to Texas in one day, but somehow, this seemed longer.

When the ride stopped, my ex was waiting to get Micah at the exit.

“That was rude. I can’t believe he didn’t let you ride.”

“It was because of my size, Marty.”

“No. It couldn’t have been. I think it was because we didn’t…”

I cut him off, not wanting to hear it. “I know the reason.”

And I walked on.

Past the sporting goods store where I could have gotten clothes to work out in.

Past the bookstore, with aisle after aisle of books, CD’s, DVD’s, and magazines to give me hope when there was none to be found right then.

And past the health food store with food to heal my body, my soul, and my broken spirit.

And like an alcoholic thinks he needs a drink, and an addict needs his next high, I stopped at The Great American Cookie Company.

I needed my fix.

And I didn’t just get any old cookie.

I got a Double Doozy.

Two giant chocolate chip cookies with icing in the middle.

Eaten quickly and washed down with a Large Dr. Pepper.

A quick snack that easily hit over a thousand calories.

And before I knew it, my stomach was too stuffed to feel anything but the feeling of fullness I just created.

I could not think of shame, humiliation, or embarrassment with a stomach that stuffed and that miserable.

And that walk would last several more years.

We all have defining moments. Moments that click in our head and make us say, “A-ha! I get it! I got it! I understand it!”

That could have been the one for me.

Could have been.

But it wasn’t.

I let an a-ha moment! simply remain a bad day.

Those moments are all around. They abound.

They scream at us through our ear muffs.

Some are disguised as bad days, horrible memories, or even pity parties.

But they are there, if we choose to accept them.

I have been known to say, “All diets work.” Because I believe they do.

From the craziest crash diet, to the most sophisticated calorie counting, they all work when followed correctly.

I should know, right?

But I did go on to read the study anyway.

The bottom line was that diets don’t work over time.

Over the long run.

And…well…hmmm???

I’ve been at goal for roughly three years now.

And didn’t I get here by…dieting?

I thought about that for a long time.

Then I remembered a conversation from long ago.

I’ve told you about it before.

From back in the day when my friend Kevin told me, “Woman! You can’t eat like that.”

Six months after reaching goal, I was still eating a dieter’s diet.

And that’s what wouldn’t work.

Because…

I was doing what I could not do forever.

Had I kept going, I would have crashed and burned.

And who wants to do that?

So, I guess the answer really is, “No. Diets don’t work.”

But…maintenance does.

It works all day long.

Reaching goal is only half the story. Because after that, you have to create a life you can maintain.

I wanted to dive head-first back into my cheeseburgers and fries.

I wanted to go back to KFC where they knew my order by heart.

But I also wanted to maintain what I lost more than I wanted any of that!

And just like learning to diet, you have to learn to maintain.

You have to find a way of eating and exercising that you can maintain for life.

For me personally, I had to let go of the idea that if I behaved long enough, I could go back to the way I used to eat.

That was the weakest link in my chain. The idea that I was fixing myself just long enough to go back.

And there is where bodybuilding entered the picture again.

I had read enough to know that bodybuilders don’t lift so that one day they may stop lifting.

They lift until they look the way they want to look, and then they too have to figure out how to maintain.

But, I have to disagree with that study.

Diets do work.

They work for losers.

And maintenance works for winners!

That makes me a winner and a loser any which way you look at it!

Sadly, this is true!

I’m not even talking about fun-flavored little packets of oat-y goodness.

I’m talking plain Quaker Oats. The old-fashioned variety. (I don’t like the quick cook – blek!!!)

Here’s the irony of the whole situation.

I remember, at best, maybe two dreams a year. I remember so few that I could probably tell you them all if I sat and thought about it long enough.

But what a disturbing picture that would weave!

And y’all don’t have time for that anyway…unless you want to hear about that recurring dream in my kindergarten years (I know, only one year there, but it just sounds so dramatic)….Big Bird had kidnapped me and we were being chased in his flying nest by the witch from that Puff and Stuff Show.

But anyway…back to my oats and the irony of it all.

I have been having oats with protein powder for meal number two this week. The protein powder is Oatmeal Cookie flavored, so it just seems like the right thing to do.

And I cannot remember to bring a measuring cup with me to work to save my life.

So I took a Styrofoam coffee cup and made a little hash mark. It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. It’s just double the water. So, whatever amount of oats I put in, I need to put two waters and some salt.

Well, that first day…I made the biggest bowl of oats I’ve personally ever seen. We’re talking even Big Girl Adina could not eat this gelatinous pile.

The second day, I made a baby-bear-sized portion.

And all week long I battled the bowl.

You see, I know what a cooked portion should look like, but I don’t have the dry down.

And I just couldn’t remember that cup.

And about mid-week, fret sets in.

You see, I’m very stuck on the knowledge that ninety percent of the people who lose, gain their weight back.

And that weight doesn’t come back over night.

Think of Kirstie Alley fighting her battle in the public eye. She gained it back in about the same amount of time she lost it.

And I’m sure it started with something small…giving in “just once” to something she shouldn’t.

So, I keep this thought in my mind…don’t give in to the small things. Small things lead to big things.

But I didn’t know how fully I kept this thought in my mind until last night when I dreamed of oatmeal.

You see, I finally made a hash mark I think is right on that cup. (I think!)

And in my dream, I had brought the cup home to check the measure. (Disturbing that even in my dream I cannot remember to bring the cup to work. I actually brought the Styrofoam home!!!)

And…I….was….WRONG!

In my dream I was eating too much oatmeal. I woke up doing the face-palm over this knowledge!!!

But don’t my dreams tell the tale, no matter how silly they are?

To really get to where you want to be, you have to live it.

The lifestyle has become so much a part of me that it even infiltrates my dreams.

And while I’d like to think I was dreaming about my hot friend Kevin, Victor Martinez, or my world peace speech at the Miss America pageant…

I’m just dreaming of plain old Quaker Oats.

But the good news is…boring food and boring dreams means….an unbelievably fun life! Yea for me!!!

And I’ll take my Quaker Oats dream over gaining my weight back no matter how you serve it! Just no butter and no sugar, please!

I hated her in the worst way. She was my fourth grade science teacher.

She got on to this one boy about picking his nose, and I am sure he is still not over it to this day! It was traumatic, y’all. I swear it was.

But that wasn’t the reason I hated her.

No. It went far deeper than that boy’s finger.

She would not give one hundreds. No matter how good your paper was, you got a ninety-nine. A big, red ninety-nine in a big red circle.

To a shy fourth grader, this was nonsense. Utter madness.

No matter how hard you studied, you could not break the magical ceiling of ninety-nine.

She was old. I’m sure she taught for fifty years.

You could beg, you could plead, you could flick a booger on her, but the reply was always the same, ‘Nobody is perfect. There are no perfect papers. If I had time to look, I’m sure I could find something wrong. An ‘I’ not dotted. A ‘T’ not crossed. Nobody is perfect. Only Jesus.”

Now how do you argue with that? She played the Jesus card. As our teacher she already held a hand full of aces, but she had to go and say that.

As a fourth grader in the Bible Belt of America, that argument could stop a girl cold, y’all! I ain’t even playing!

Oh, it was a good lesson…the whole concept that nobody is perfect.

But it was a lesson I was not ready to learn in fourth grade science class.

It would be a few years later before I would be ready for that one…or, well maybe a few decades later!!

And it would be that damned one hundred again. Only this time the one hundred in question was how much I needed to lose, and Mrs. Hudson had no control over it. I held all the cards, even the Jesus one!

It was a daunting number to face.

So I made a plan to lose it over the course of a year. Ten pounds a month. That sounded reasonable to me.

Right?

But often what sounds reasonable is not exactly feasible. And for me to lose that much in a year just wasn’t.

I made a chart.

I drew one hundred empty circles.

I thought it would be fun to color one in every time I lost a pound.

But I made no plan for when perfection was not reached.

I made ten pounds the first month plus some.

The second month I barely scraped by, and that was only because the two months together made twenty.

And I wasn’t ready for that third month when perfection was not achieved.

I recalculated what I would have to do to make it in a year.

For some reason that was important to me.

But attempt after attempt failed because I refused to face the inevitable.

I cannot lose one hundred pounds in a year.

When I decided to try one more time, I made no charts, no graphs, no time frame plan of any kind.

I decided that at least getting a few poundsoff was better than none. Believe it or not, I had no ultimate goal. I just wanted to get under 200 pounds and at least make it to a size sixteen.

And it’s amazing what can happen when you let go of perfection.

Although I had not made a chart full of little circles, I was making a life full of them. Coloring them in one circle at a time.

It took me two years to lose, and a lot can happen in two years.

If I had kept that chart, I would have colored in so much more than numbers.

I would have colored in circles for facing my fear of the gym, letting go of what hurts me, jogging a mile without stopping, entering a 5K race….

And you know what?

There were WAY more than a hundred circles to fill. I needed more than a year. I had a lot to work on.

Although the numbers seemed to portray that I could do it in a year, the life lessons did not.

I learned one of the biggest lessons while stuck at 203 pounds for three months. No circles colored for pounds lost, but certainly circles colored for sticking it out no matter what and willpower!

And in the end, Mrs. Hudson was right.

Nobody is perfect.

Whether we set out with a goal to compete, lose, write, race, make a film….whatever it is, the journey there will not be perfect.

But if the journey was always perfect, no life lessons would be learned…and that boy would still be picking his nose. And I’m glad he doesn’t pick his nose, y’all. No one really needs to do that. Not in public, anyway.

God rest Mrs. Hudson’s non-perfect soul!

Mean Girls.

Yes. We watched it.

While you would like to think I was off writing my Blog, answering my E-mails, being a mom, or doing something deeply moving, I wasn’t.

I was watching Mean Girls with a grown man.

Now, we did stop and discuss what color hair Lindsey Lohan looks better with.

Oh, and we both think she’s too thin now.

And I told him how I like people with freckles. Especially guys.

So, there was some deep, meaningful conversation going on, I can assure you.

The thing is, we were watching it on TV. We have a favorite quote from this movie, but we did not figure we would get to hear it.

Being on regular TV, we thought it would be bleeped out.

Oh, yes. The quote is that bad.

But it’s our favorite.

We say it.

We text it.

We torture people who have not seen the movie with it.

The big gym scene came, and we were braced for them to skip right on over it.

Stuart looked up at me as the moment got closer,rubbing his hands together, “It’s coming!”

“They won’t say it.”

“I know it, but it’s still time for it!”

The moment came…and…

They didn’t bleep it!

And we fell out laughing.

Now, I’m not being symbolic here.

We actually did fall out.

Neither one of us was in the upright position any longer.

We just weren’t prepared for it.

I was in a balled up fetal position, snorting.

Yes, I said snorting.

He had his head on the arm of the couch, and there were tears streaming down his face.

Looking up at each other only made it worse, because by then I was crying AND snorting.

And for the next ten minutes I had to fight off little uncontrollable spasms of laughter.

And if I even looked at Stuart, we would just break down again.

It’s funny that we had seen it and said it a million times, but that didn’t lessen our enjoyment.

Each day doesn’t bring an opportunity to try something new, but each day does come with an opportunity to look at the same old thing in a different light.

I can’t really tell you why.

He had to walk over rocks…and sticks…and stickers to get to my car. You would think this necessitates shoes, but putting them on just wasn’t worth the effort for him.

Oh, he had them.

They were in his hands, so we put them in the trunk.

You know, it was late, and he would have had to untie them to put them on.

See…trouble!

Midway home, he springs the news on me that he needs a disposable camera for the very next day.

Church camp.

Now, this is not a big deal. I want him to have fun and take pictures. Gives me more fun things to write about and yes, I know, more therapy to pay for in the future!

But it’s 9:30PM in a town that shuts down tight at 9:00! If you have a hankering for something after 9:00, you best go on to bed!

Oh, yeah.

And I’m in a swimsuit. I forgot to mention that, didn’t I?

But, you know…it was just too much trouble to put my dry clothes on. I was just going to run pick Jonah up from his dad’s.

And of course, Jonah’s step brother comes out helping him carry his bag for camp.

And there I stand, in all my swimsuit glory!

At least it’s one of those good ones that holds everything in. It works better than sucking in and holding your breath at the same time!

Y’all. I ain’t gonna lie. It’s the best swimsuit ever made!

So, anyway…

We pull into a gas station. Our only chance of getting a camera. As I put the car in park, I say, “Jonah, run in and see if they have one.”

“Have what?”

“A CAM-ER-A?!”

“Mom! I don’t have shoes on!”

Amazingly he was able to walk through grass, sticks, and all things of nature a few minutes earlier, but this he cannot do.

So it’s my job, as his mom, to snap him into reality.

“Jonah. I’m in a swimsuit. Do you REALLY want me to go in there?”

Sadly, I would have, y’all! I have no shame.

But I just had to laugh when he looks at me in utter panic and says, “What are we going to do? Should we wait until the morning?”

And…OK. We were to be at the church at 5:30 in the morning. Mama ain’t getting up early enough to grab a camera on the way.

So I take off my flip flops and say, “Here. Wear these. They’re unisex.”

And y’all. They weren’t.

He knew it, and so did I.

And I did feel bad when I peered through the window at him. I just said a quick Dear-God-please-don’t-let-them-look-at-his
-feet prayer.

He comes back out with news that is both good and bad.

They have one.

But I pay with my debit card, I’m still in a swimsuit, and Jonah has my shoes on. I’m going to have to call that one 0 for 3.

And he’s just standing there looking at me.

So I go to the trunk and get my contingency workout pants from the car. By contingency I mean, in case there are no pants any other place in the free western world that fit and are clean and I MUST exercise right that very second.

And so, in the parking lot of the gas station I put those nasty pants that have seen not better days, but better years, over my swimsuit.

And no, they did not match in any way, shape, or form.

And of course, next I have to tell Jonah to take off my unisex flip-flops!

They go from his feet to mine. He is once again barefoot.

God love him, in complete bewilderment he utters, “Now what do I do?”

“Well. If it were me, I’d sit in the car, lock the doors, and hunker down really low in case someone you know drives by and sees your mother dressing in front of the gas station.”

The color drains from his face, and he does just that. I mean to tell you he hunkered low!

And offering no explanation to the attendant, I walk in with my head held high and bought the camera!

All of this brought about because I was too lazy to put on my dry clothes, and Jonah too lazy to put on his shoes.

So whatever you think you are too lazy to do today, just do it.

Do it, or you’ll end up barefoot at the gas station with a swimsuit on.

And there really are no winners there.

Y’all thought I forgot those chicken stories, but I did not…thank you very much!!!

Jonah goes to his dad’s house most days to feed and check on the chickens.

We have one more since I wrote about them last. His or her name is Doty. We can’t tell yet. And since Kevin is a girl, and Andrea is a boy…well, it’s probably a boy!

It stormed here in Texas the other night.

I didn’t hear it. I just knew it because when I woke up I could tell there had been one.

And according to Jonah, it was a BAD one. A worry-about-your-chickens bad one!

He woke up earlier than usual, and informed me he had had a terrible nights rest.

“Mama, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Why? What was on your mind, son?”

“I was worried about my chickens. I was worried their dog house turned over in the storm.”

Yes, the chickens live in a dog house.

Now, it’s a modified dog house, but it’s a dog house nonetheless!

Or domicile recycling as I like to call it.

But my Jonah had such a look of worry on him that I had to fuss a little bit.

“Jonah! Why didn’t you wake me up? That’s what moms are for! To be with you when you’re scared or worried.”

And this is what he said…. I swear it, y’all!

“I didn’t want to wake you, because you looked so peaceful.”

OK…… AWWWWW!!!

So in my now weepy state, I was reminded how I used to rock him to sleep singing the same little chorus over and over again until he nodded off in my arms.

I’ll love you forever.
I’ll like you for always.
As long as I’m living,
My baby you’ll be.

And even though he’s only 13, he switched over for a moment. He took care of me by letting me rest.

But at some point we all have to switch over and reverse the rolls.

I can’t approach healthy living like a baby all my life.

At some point, I have to reverse the rolls.

Someone taught me how to eat one time, but I can’t expect them to call me on a daily basis and tell me exactly what to eat every day, every meal! That’s crazy!

Someone taught me how to lift. At some point I had to let go of his hand and plan my own workouts. He even told me one time when he walked across the gym to correct my form, “What do you want me to do? Spoon feed you?!”

Of course not!

Babies were meant to grow up….even babies in fitness.

While it’s hard to let go sometimes, you can sure go a lot farther when you do.

I mean a REAL smile.

Uncontained joy.

I took Micah to get his drivers permit on Friday.

I knew he would pass the test, but of course he had his doubts.

We like to tease and have fun at our house, so I expected him to emerge from the room with the look of failure. I figured he would tell me he failed, then pull his permit from behind his back.

But I was wrong.

The child emerged with the biggest smile I have ever seen on him!

No, really! I mean he was grinning from ear to ear.

He couldn’t pull off a fake failure if he tried!

And my heart melted to see him smile like that.

Don’t we live to see those moments of joy of the faces of the people we love?

I was weepy, or course.

It’s hard to give those babies over!

And of course moments like that make you think back…

I remembered the first time he drove.

We were on our way back from visiting my grandmother in Nebraska.

In a no-time-like-the-present moment, I decided to pull over and let him drive for the first time.

“Mama, no! I can’t do that!”

“Yes, you can, son. Get in.”

And in great fear and trepidation, he got behind the wheel.

Through the months it got easier.

He soon asked to drive…all the time!

And of course he had to listen to my driving rules and lessons like, oh, a thousand times!!!

Everything building to the day of the test.

He studied all day that morning, and asked numerous times, “What would you say if I failed?”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“But what would I tell my dad? Would I have to tell him?”

“I’m not worried about that either.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve prepared for this moment. You’re ready.”

And twenty minutes later, with permit it tow, we headed to the car where he could drive legally for the first time.

He didn’t know when he faced his fear and got behind the wheel that first time where he was headed.

He just knew he conquered a fear.

And like with so many other things in life…

Conquered fear leads to joy!

And oh the places he’ll go!