Holly Hobbie Flashbacks

I found this little vintage Holly Hobbie plaque during one of my thrift store jaunts and hung it on the wall right in my line of sight at work.  It says “The time to be happy is now”.   I have fond memories of Holly Hobbie. Happy, warm fuzzy thoughts flood me whenever I see her at a thrift store or on Etsy.  She feels like an old friend who knows the real me of my childhood {the messy, sad, emotional me; the mean, catty, hurtful me; the quiet, troubled, mortified me; the happy, creative, content me.  The me that spent weekend upon weekend cuddling under a Holly Hobbie quilt that my mom {or maybe an aunt} made for me when I was a baby.  I saw the fabric recently…it took me back.

 When I was growing up I had two families….a child of divorce like so many others.  When I was little I lived primarily with my Dad, step-mom {Mom^2}, and older sister {and later, foster kids and their adopted kids}.  I spent weekends and school vacations with my mom {another hero of mine}.  Until I was 13 I was my mom’s only kiddo and the fact that we only spent weekends together made the time we spent mostly fun.  Mom didn’t have to be the heavy because weekend time was fun time: roller skating, beaching, playing, watching movies, playing video games, visiting family.  She didn't get to experience the crabby kid who didn’t want to do her homework and eat her vegetables, who acted like a jackass when she didn’t get her way.  Mom got weekends filled with fun me - and although we both look back and wish we would have had more time…the time we had was pretty much {fun party} mom and me time. 

As a chubby kid with few friends I realized the fake friends were the best because they couldn't call you four eyes and thunder thighs {yes it rhymes…pair that with the last name Gross and you've got the makings of good strong old school verbal bullying}.  Holly would never say things to hurt me or make fun of me because I would rather hole up and read a book than explore the neighborhood for real kids.  Holly Hobbie was the bomb.  She wasn't skinny, perfect or trendy.  She didn’t wear Guess Jeans, Tretorn sneakers and Benetton polo shirts.  She didn't make fun of me for having ugly corduroy pants pink and grey saddle shoes {God, I loved those shoes}.  I didn't care about those things and mostly still don’t {although I might find it gratifying to squeeze my butt fanny backside Gammon ass* into a pair of acid washed Guess Jeans- ooh! maybe I should make that a goal}.  And most of all you rarely saw her face…that {not so swanky} prairie bonnet hid it all.  All the hurt, all the sadness, all the hunger was hidden from the world. She played in the fields, on the beach – with her many cats and kind friends.  

I loved her so {still do really...}.  My prairie bonnet was not literal….it was of a culinary nature.  Hurt, hide it with ice cream.  Sad, hide it with candy.  Angry, hide it with donuts…cookies…potato chips… french fries…

I don’t blame anyone in my childhood life for all the anger and sadness.  Shit happens.  It does.  I had LOTS AND LOTS of happy, happy things.  Things that I did with each of my separate families making lifelong memories: midnight trips to Rapid Ray’s for a burger, fries and chocolate milk, heading to Brunswick for family visits and playing on Papa’s big rock with Stacy, lobster bakes, Halloween as Wonder Woman (4 years in a row) swimming, taking Bobo for a Sunday run in the cemetery, crafting with Mom, Mom², and Grammie Alma, video games and movies with Aunt Jeannie, Popham and Small Point with Mom and later Ashley {Lil' Ditdor}, jumping on Tammy {Little Big Sis} to wake her up, tickle torture, Wormwood's with dad, Home Interior assistant job with Mom², Florida vacations, Gammon Girls bathroom gatherings - just to name a few bunch.

The first step to embracing NOW {the time to be happy} is realizing that calories can’t fix emotions.  OK – got it…..onto the next step.

* the Gammon Ass - if you have one you know what it is....if you don't you wish you did.  

The sun is shining and I'm on my way....

...to therapy {let's pretend its a tea party...because those are fun}   Haven't been since July 31st.  Every WLS {specifically Roux-en-Y Gastric Bypass for me} prospect needs to have a psychological evaluation.  Had mine.  I must have passed - because I'm getting the surgery.  I decided not to stop at just the evaluation.  I'm digging my heels and jumping in full force - tea parties twice a month for me!  I'm going try to get my brain on the right track too.  After all - my brain {AKA my in-house saboteur} tells me to overeat.  He {saboteurs are always male} tells me that one two FOUR candy bars don't count if no one sees me stuff them in my face {hiding in the bathroom}.  I should probably find out why and work on changing it.  This is going to be fun right?  I'll be drinking tea and finding out why my saboteur hates me so much.  Fun....

 

As I'm driving to hang out with the hostess of my tea party I think about my propensity for foul language and how at these tea parties and on this blog I should try to curb my cussing.  Because well....because...I wouldn't want to offend anyone.  Guess what I learned at today's tea party.  It's not my job to make sure everyone else is OK with what I do and say.  I shouldn't be mean but.....

 

So here's a warning.... I will swear, I will use inappropriate language.  I am surrounded  by defense attorneys day after day...so yeah... It's how I talk.  I'm not that bad and I'm probably better than what you are imagining I will be.  I remember my dad saying {insert sarcasm here}how very proud he was of his daughters....and how they spoke like truckers {or sailors ~ it depended on his mood}.  Well... this blog will occasionally make him proud - because sometimes the only way to convey what I want to get across is to drop an FBomb. 

 

You have been warned.

I got fatter......

I've been tired for almost 5 years.  Fat and tired. And emotional.  And crabby. And unhealthy. My dad, my hero, got sick and died in 2009 and IT SUCKED SOOOO BAD.  And I went from fat and happy - to fat and sad.

Now - I've never been skinny.  Never.  In high school I was chubby.  In college I slimmed out for a minute.  Then I fell in love and got fat again in quick succession.  Got married. Got fatter.  Had a baby.  Got fatter.  Had another baby while the first baby was still a baby.  Got fatter.  Then - because the love of my life {LOML} and I did things bass ackwards - we raised our toddlers {T & J}  into children while working and going to college full time.  I had a great job in Florida and was successful and well liked by my co-workers.  I was good at my job, a good mom, good wife, good daughter, good Girl Scout leader, good friend....good, good, good.  I had a good self esteem.  I knew I was fat.  But I was ok.

 Would I like to have lost it all back then....when I had so much less to lose?  Of course.  I said back then I would never have this surgery... It's a cop out.  It's for the weak, the unmotivated, the lazy.  I could do it - on my own. And every year I said I would.  And every year I didn't.

At that point- T&J are no longer toddlers, both full fledged kiddos in school and everything.  LOML and I pack up and journey 5,000 miles North to Alaska.  Jobs {my current one my favorite so far}came, home ownership came and went, holidays came and went.  T&J grew and we settled into a groove.  Then January 2009 took the wind out of the sails and in 6 short months cancer stole my hero.   I flew a lot that year and learned to ask the flight attendant as I boarded to bring me a seat belt extender (because pushing the button after we were all seated was mortifying).

I got home from my hero's funeral and was different.  Always emotional but never the medication needing chick- I became the medication needing chick. Then my physical side started reacting to my emotional side.  Thyroid meds, antidepressant/anti-anxiety meds, vitamin D,  pre-diabetic metabolic syndrome meds..... And I went from the weight I had stalled at for years....a weight I hated but didn't let it make me hate myself - to a weight that made me hate myself.  No more good, good, good.

So 2013 rolls around and a dear friend says <I think I'm going to try this weight loss surgery {WLS}.  Wanna find out about it with me.>  I say < Hell no, that's not for me>!   Then I don't sleep for 3 nights....all I think about is WLS.

Fast forward to right this minute.  I sit here thinking - in one week I'll be recovering from WLS.  HOLY SNAPPING ASSHOLES!!!!  I'm doing it.  So this here is a record of my journey from Fat Chick to Healthy Hen - join me if you'd like.  I won't promise anything.  I may post daily, I may not.  This won't be an obligation for me - it's just my journey.