Alone.

I dont deny messing up. I dont deny that I made a mistake. 

I wasn't worth working it out. That hurts so deeply that there are no words to describe it. I'm not saying that I don't understand why he left me. I do. I didn't want the divorce. I didn't want to sign the affidavit. Took me two trips to the courthouse to have enough courage to do it. Oh how I loved him...still do. That doesn't just stop.

Today is my first day home without him, without his stuff here. Walking in the house wasn't hard. I lost it when I walked into our room and his closet was open...and empty. When I was able to stop crying, I went to the bathroom to go potty only to notice that my toothbrush was the only one in the holder. I lost it again. I started to leave our bedroom and sat near the door to weep. When I thought I was going to be able to compose myself, I looked around our room. Hanging above our bed is our wedding picture. It's the most beautiful picture I've ever seen. I remember that very moment that the photographer snapped that picture. It was the first time we had gotten to really speak to each other since the ceremony. We were out on a ledge, on a beautiful balcony.  He was standing directly behind me. I looked over my shoulder and said "now, I'm your wife". A tear ran down his cheek. The picture was taken when I reached to his face to wipe the tear from his cheek. 

I'm still sitting in the floor by our bedroom door typing this. I'm gross. I've cried and cried typing this. I've wiped snot and tears on the sleeve of my blazer. I deserve this. I deserve to hurt. I deserve to be alone. Alone. I've never lived alone. Ever. I've always had children or been married. I can't sit here in the house alone. 

I should have been a better wife. I could have worked less. I could have quit one of my jobs. I could have done more house work. I could have mowed the yard. I could have taken my son to practice more. I could have not had an affair. I could have done so many things differently. I could have been a better wife. I could have relied on him less to do things. I could have done it all better. I'm not a good wife. Aside from loving him, I guess I didn't do any of it right. I didn't know I wasn't a good wife. I definitely deserve this. It hurts really bad. It hurts so so so much. I knew this day would. I knew I would be crushed the day he actually moved out. I think in a way maybe I thought he wouldn't do it.  Maybe somewhere deep inside I thought I was worth staying for. Even though I know this is best for both of us. His heart will never forgive me. He shouldn't have to live like that.

I know I'll survive. I know I'll move on. I know this will one day be behind me. I hope he's ok. I hope only the best for him. He deserves it. Was he the perfect husband? No. No one is. People can love each other so deeply that everything just works and feels right. You can love someone so deeply that your entire body needs them, but not one of us is perfect. Not one. I've had some not so nice responses on my blogs. Got an ugly email. A quick turn off, have a Christian tell you that you're being prayed for and that sin is ugly, and you need your heart cleansed. Yeah, that's awesome. I know I'll be ok. I know he'll be ok. I hope he finds someone a million times better than me. He's a really fantastic guy. I will miss him. 

This will be the last time I blog about him. I like blogging because it gets my words out if my head. It helps me sort out my thoughts and emotions. I needed to vent this. And right now, I will get up off this floor. I will move forward. I will not feel sorry for myself, after all, I did this. I deserve this. Yes, it will hurt. Yes, I will be ok. Yes, people are going to continue to judge me. Yes, I'm going to remember God's grace. I'm going to remember that my sin isn't so big that Jesus' blood can't cover. My sin isn't so big that Jesus died for nothing. I'm not the first one in history to have an affair. I certainly won't be the last. I am ending here. I'm getting off the floor, pulling myself together and figure out what's next for my life. 

~Darla

Step out of your normal

I am by no means what someone would call "normal".  Guess what? No one else is either.  There is no normal.  There is no set pattern or standard that makes normal. Normal is actually just another word for typical. We are all unique. Not one of us is the same.  Our life experiences, choices and circumstances whether negative or positive will help build the person that we will be tomorrow.  We are so very different from each other.  I think that people in general are like chameleons. Stay with me for a minute on this one. When we are young, we learn to adapt to our living arrangements.  Some kids grow up with only one parent which seems "normal" to them.  Kids that grow up in poverty feel that is "normal".  Life circumstances are what surround us everyday to form a comfort zone.  That comfort is what you would call your "normal".  The same thing happens when we date, make friends, get married, work, have children.  In all of those instances, we are intruding outsiders to our "normal".  We conform to a new normal to include the differences in the new person coming into our normal.

There was a movie called The Runaway Bride.  It had Julia Roberts and Richard Gere in it.  In the movie. Julia Roberts character, Maggie, has left several fiancés at the alter.  A New York reporter, Ike, played by Richard Gere, comes to do an interview with Maggie.  He meets with her ex-fiancés to find that with each person, Maggie has adjusted her interests to please the fiancé she is with at the time.  She is engaged again and set to get married.  When Ike digs deeper into learning who Maggie really is, he also fall in love with her.  Ike poses as the groom to help Maggie with her fear of getting married.  They end up kissing at the wedding rehearsal and pouring out their feelings to each other.  The groom punches Ike.  Ike and Maggie decide to get married since it's already set up, and of course Maggie leaves Ike at the alter.  After Ike's findings for the interview, he tells Maggie that he thinks that she is conforming to someone else's interests and therefore not really knowing who she actually is.  After leaving Ike at the alter, Maggie spends time figuring out who she is.  See, during the interviews of the ex-fiancés they each told Ike how Maggie liked her eggs...only the answers were all different.  The part that I remember most vividly is Maggie sitting at the table with like 10 different kinds of eggs trying them all.  She was trying to figure out who she was.  She was trying to figure out which eggs she actually preferred.  I think in a way that we all do this to some extent.  We have to when we combine two people's "normal".  We do it whenever we bring a new person into our normal. 

My childhood was not amazing.  It wasn't what should be called normal.  I think that I have made some life choices because of my childhood, and I also think that I made some life choices in spite of my childhood.  I think we can all agree that life is hard.  We get lost in this world and forget who we are, or maybe we never figure out who we are.  I have rescheduled my Mastectomy and oophorectomy for 2016.  I have one year before I do that.  My divorce will be final in January of 2015.  My daughter is an adult, and my son lives with his dad now.  This will be the first time I have lived alone.  I have always either had children or been married.  I want to figure out who I am. I want to try new things.  I want to figure out my likes and dislikes.  I want to do things that I've never done before.  I want to do the things that bring me joy.  I have decided to spend the next year of my life working because I enjoy both of my jobs.  I am going to take one weekend off each month to just not work.  I know, that's crazy for me and totally out of character.  I am going to actually write down my bucket list and mark things off. I am going to go to my son's baseball tournaments.  I am going to volunteer at the food bank.  I am going to volunteer at the soup kitchen in Austin.  I am going to hand someone a $100 bill for no reason.  I am going to do some traveling, nothing over the top. 
This is a list of things that would like to do (most of these I've never done):

• hot air balloon
• go to New York
• skydiving
• zip line
• go on a hike
• snow skiing
• take pictures of lightning
• water skiing
• drive a boat
• wear a tutu
• ride a city bus
• ride on a train
• ride a subway
• see the Redwood Forest
• fly to Washington and see my friend Sarah
• take my sisters to Vegas
• go on an Alaskan cruise
• see Niagra Falls
• go camping
• kayaking
• dance in a rainstorm
• see the Grand Canyon
• go to a major league sporting event
• do a 5K
• go on an off shore fishing trip
• pet an alligator
• explore Texas sites

These will take years and years to mark off of my list, but I have written them down.  I want to encourage anyone who reads this blog to make a bucket list.  Write it down.  Learn new things about yourself.  Step out of your normal. 

Judge me if you feel the need

     I haven't blogged in a while because I really didn't know what to say about things going on in my life.  I spent quite a bit of time crying, analyzing, and being consumed by work.  When I get upset, I tend to hide.  I have several things that are typical of me when I'm having a tough time.  I bury myself with work.  I sit in the floor of my kitchen and cry with my back in the corner of the cabinets.  I pray a lot.  I sit and look at the picture of my mother that was at her service.  I talk to it.  I have friends, but they're busy, and I don't want to burden people with my life complains. I try to keep in mind that tomorrow is another day. It's hard to remember that each chapter in your life does have an ending.  As humans, it is in our nature to worry and fret.  It's so very hard not to.  That's when I feel that the praying, crying and burying my self with work will help until the moment, day or life chapter is over.

     This is not the place for this, but I am an open book.  I always have been.  I am going to blog about the chapter in my life that is closing.  This will shock people, and this will upset some.  I just think that if my life story can help one person that It was all worth it.  I don't necessarily think that my life is anyone's business, and I certainly don't think that my life deserves anyone's judgment. I am not a judgmental person.  People have to answer for their own actions.  I care about people and want the best for them, and I don't have to agree with their choices.  No matter what choices a person makes, I have no right to judge them.  God has plans for each of us.  When we make poor choices we have to believe that we can turn to God and the he can make good things out of it.  He can redirect us.  He can guide us back, but we have to keep our eyes on Him. 

     November of 2013 I was told that I have a BRCA2 gene mutation (Google it or read my previous blogs).  When that happened, I took my time deciding what was best for my life.  I opted to schedule a double mastectomy (removal of breasts) and an oophorectomy (removal of ovaries).  I've had many doctors appointments in the past year.  My grandma went to one with me.  My husband went to one.  I went to the others alone.  I really wanted my husband there.  I wanted him to want to be there.  I felt that he started distancing himself from me.  Emotionally and physically he became withdrawn from me. I would cry, and he would not respond.  In the beginning he did, but something changed.  I would cry and he would get more distant.  I was having such a hard time doing this without my mother.  I would have days that I missed her so very much.  I've cried knowing that she won't be there to hold my hand before I go into surgery.  I needed my husband to be there for me.  I needed him to try to understand.  I needed him to hold me when I was sad. I couldn't understand what changed.  I even wrote him letters telling him that I really needed him, and explained how.  I work in the automotive industry, so my work friends are mostly guys.  I talked to two of them about my surgery...I shouldn't have had personal conversations with people at work.  I know better than that.  Work and home are to be kept separated.  These are not my friends, they are coworkers.  That's hard to remember when you spend 10 hours a day with people.  I messed up.  I had an affair. I could sit here and type out why.  I could tell each step that happened that led up to, but there is nothing that justifies my actions. I could tell you how he actually asked about an appointment that my husband forgot about.  I could tell you that he hugged me when I began to cry about missing my mother.  I could tell you about the conversations we had in which I thought I was just venting to a friend.  I can tell you that I had no idea it would become what it did.  I can't justify that I had an affair.  I can't.  It was wrong.  I cried a lot from guilt.  I felt horrible.  When our spouses found out they both wanted a divorce.  I believe his wife filed before it happened. Our spouses started talking to each other.  They even met for drinks one night.  My husband filed for divorce shortly after finding out.  I was 100% in the wrong.  Our one time affair wasn't worth damaging two families.  I can't take it back.  I am so very sorry.  I know this will shock people.  I am not a cheater.  This is so unlike me.  I know my mother would be disappointed.  I know that I have shamed my family.  I know that I hurt my kids.  I think about it EVERY day. I know that I am a horrible person, and made an irreversible and destructive choice. I know that.  I understand my husband wanting a divorce. I broke him.  I destroyed his heart. I feel awful.  I love that man so very much.  Things were already getting rough with us with the emotional and physical separation.  When my son moved out in July we (ricky and I) realized that we have nothing in common.  Nothing.  Looking back, it's possible that we got married out of convenience.  We wanted the best for our children and I feel that we did that. Our children have close relationships, and will remain that way for the rest of their lives.  I know that we didn't make a mistake getting married...I think that we could have been married forever.  Ricky said recently that he didn't think we were happy.  He said that he thought we were comfortable.  I feel like that's the same thing.  I could be totally wrong. 

     You are welcome to judge me if you feel the need.  I have beat myself up about this for 2 months now. I can never take it back.  I can never right my wrong. I admit that I messed up.  I admit that I ruined all of this.  You can judge, you can email me, you can text ugly things to me.  you can do whatever you feel necessary to "give me your opinion" on my life. I am not proud of what I did.  I assure you of that.  I really hope that this blog helps someone...I don't know how that's possible.  I also think it's good to just get this off my chest.  It's a horrible secret to keep.  I live in a tiny town where people know every time I pass gas, and they insist on letting everyone else know.  I am sure this won't take long to make to the front page of the local paper. But, I'm not going to sit back and pretend to be perfect or without sin.  Not one of us is perfect. Again, feel free to tell me what a horrible person I am.  I actually deserve whatever befalls me.

     I am not going to lie and say this is not the most uncomfortable blog I've ever written.  I'm so very sorry for hurting people.  I am sorry for those of you I disappointed, and let down.  I have failed many people with my action and my choice.  I decided to cancel my surgery.  I will reschedule for January 2016 in hopes that my life will not be as chaotic then, and I can plan better for the surgery. My divorce will be final the beginning of January, and that's a week before the surgery was scheduled.  I'm just not prepared to take all of that on at the same time.  I so very sorry if you are one of the people that I let down and disappointed. 

    I have no idea what is next for my life, but this chapter is closing.

Shank them like it's a jailbreak attempt

     Today I meet with the plastic surgeon at 4:00.  She said the next time that I see her to bring pictures of good boobs and bad boobs according to my Google searches. :)  I have them in my phone. I am not gonna lie it was awkward when Brian (my 12 year old son) went to use my phone, and the web pages that were up were boobies.  He said, "Uuuhhh, mom, there's a lot of boobs on here."  Hahahahaaa! I told him why, and he understood.  I showed him some of the "bad" boobs so that he understood what was scaring me. I remember the day I first told him about being BRCA+ and what it meant. I let him ask what questions he felt he needed the answers to.  He asked a couple of questions, and that was it.  It's been 18 months since the "spot" was detected in my left breast.  It's been 10 months since I was diagnosed as BRCA2+.  About a month ago, when Brian saw the boob images on my phone, he decided to ask some questions. 
     It was so much easier to explain the surgery to my 20 year old daughter.  She's a grown up (sort of) and she's a girl.  Trying to explain this to my 12 year old son...whole different ballgame (this was about a week before his 13th birthday). He asked if I was scared.  He asked what they do in the surgery.  He asked what happens after the surgery.  He asked if it would look like the pictures on my phone.  My first response to him was, "Brian, this is all medical.  This isn't about boobs. I can explain this to you.  Are you okay with hearing about your mom's boobs? I understand that might seem weird."  He thought for a second, "and said yeah, I'm fine.  I want to know what's going to happen".  My next question (so very awkward for me) was, "Are you oaky with me using the word nipple?". I couldn't think of a way to explain this without using that word.  Maybe I'm the weird one, but that's just not a word I have grown up hearing in conversation. His response: Mom, every body has nipples.   He wasn't weird.  He wasn't grossed out.  I explained each step of the surgery, why I chose to have it done, that I didn't want to the possibility of seeing me go through what Nanny (my mom) did.  He had questions, and we chatted for about 45 minutes about it.  I'll admit that I had been nervous for some time about talking to him about it.  I just wasn't looking forward to trying to have a mature conversation about boobs with my 12 year old boy. He didn't giggle even once. :)
     I was accepted to a private FB group for BRCA positive people. The support of others that understand has been so good for me.  I have learned that the mixed emotions, the rollercoasters are totally normal.  Other women are experiencing doubt in their decisions for a day or so.  They experience days with lots of cry fests. They experience anger, confusion, and blah days.  It's private, so we all just throw it out there, our fears, our experiences.  It's nice to be part of a group that will be honest, and support you, and wont say "well, at least you'll have perky boobs when your old".  If I have to hear one more person say that...I'm going to shank them like it's a jailbreak attempt.
     I have my appointment at 4:00 today....I don't get as much work done as I'd like to on the days that I have appointments. I just have a lot on my mind on those days.  I have a lot of quiet time those days. Today will not be any different.  I will work getting some old stuff off my desk.  I will barely speak. I will leave work an hour before my appointment.  I will arrive 30 minutes early and read magazines in the lobby.  I will feel better when talking to the doctor.  I will go to my car and cry for about 15 minutes, wipe my snot on my shirt and drive home. I will spend the evening editing photography stuff and staying to myself.  This is what happens on the days of my appointments.  It's a routine I have fallen into.  I have no idea why.  I really like the doctor that I will see today.. She is the one that I mentioned in a previous blog that was my height, so I felt an automatic connection to her.  And yes, I realize that is strange, but so am I. :)  She makes me feel like no matter what, she gonna give me some boobs that won't later plot against me. She's great.

Learning to dance in the rain...

     One day I will have it all together!  I seriously thought this during my childhood. HA!  Wow... What does that even mean?  Having it all together...that's an interesting phrase.
     I do not and probably will not ever have it all together. I've had a hard time with my mother's death in the past few weeks.  I know that people think "she should have moved on by now", "Darla is taking this harder than she should", "I can't believe she's still grieving".  A piece of my life is gone. Gone.  Mothers don't judge you. Mother's are the only ones that have your childhood stories in their head. Mother's are the ones that patch your BooBoos no matter how old you are.  When my first husband left, my mother held me (more than once) while I cried.  When I told my mother that I thought I had a drinking problem, she didn't judge me. I have so many things I really need to talk to her about.  I know I know.  I have friends that will listen to me ramble on. I have family that will too.  But they're not my mom. The last movie I watched with mom was The Lake House.  The last thing I ate with my mother was Chinese that we brought into the hospice hospital.  The last words she said to me were "I love you, Baby".  I can still hear her voice. I wonder so often what she would think right now.  Would she be proud of the photography stuff I'm doing?  She always liked to look at them.  Would she be disappointed with my work habits right now?  Would she support my decision for the double mastectomy? Would she pet my head before I go into surgery? Would she be holding my hand at each appointment?  What would she say if I just put my head on her shoulder to cry?  You don't move on.  You don't ever finish grieving. You learn to live with a piece of your heart, and your life gone...missing.

     I got the date of my surgery set.  That was nerve wracking and a relief at the same time.  I'm still nervous.  I'm having so many mixed emotions. One minute I'm sad, and the next I'm frustrated and mad.  I can't seem to find a happy medium. I think it's just that there is so much in my head...so much running through my mind.  I have so many tough things that I'm going through right now.  So much more detail than I feel comfortable blogging about.  I have a friends sister that committed suicide last week.  One of my friends is an affair (she's single).  One of my friends is having an affair that is destroying her emotionally.   One friend is in the hospital.  One friend is going to marry a man that she doesn't love. One friend is having severe depression and having a hard time separating herself from her past.  One friend is financial trouble and seems so very depressed.  My sister has a drinking problem.  My dad's been coughing up blood for 2 years and won't go to the doctor. I have so many appointments.  I'm working 12-17 hours per day at my day job.  I'm actually down 3 employees right now. I miss my son. I miss having the kids at home.  One of our girls is thinking about moving out of the state. I'm buried at work.  I have a friend who's girlfriend is battling breast cancer and doing chemo. I have a friend who's thinking about divorce. I've needed a hair cut for months. I'm worried about all of this.  And when one thing seems fixed...some other chaotic thing replaces it. This again is why I wish I had mom to talk to.  Don't misread my emotions.  I have a ton of things to be thankful for as well.  Please do not assume that all I do is complain.  It's not like that.  I have a ton of things in my life that I am so thankful for. I really do. :)
     I think life is like that for everyone.  There are always life storms.  Learning to dance in the rain...that's the hard part, and the fun part. :)

~Darla

Who's gonna wipe my hiney?!?

     I am really thankful that I am able to blog.  I know this isn't everyone's thing, but it is such a release.  When you have no one to talk to...blog.
     Last week I had a follow up appointment with Cassie.  She is the surgeon that will be removing the breast tissue during the first surgery.  As I have said before, she is fantastic!  I love her demeanor, her calming voice, and her ability to explain things in a way that I understand....minimal medical terms.  She even draws pictures if she needs to. :)  The appointment went well for the most part. So far after each appointment I have walked to my car with a smile, and then I sit in my car and cry.  I let it all out. I just sit there pray and cry.  No one knows this.  This is the first time I've admitted it. It's not because I'm sad.  This is just a lot.  It's a lot of information.  It's a lot to understand.  It's a lot to accept.  It's a lot to carry everyday. It usually takes me back to my mother.  I saw a video the other day on The Pink Ribbon FB page.  It was a girl the day of surgery and a few days following her double mastectomy.  I always have so much respect for those people who document their journeys.  Anyway, I cried.  Not because of the pain she in, not because I was going to go through that same pain, not because I felt sorry for her.  I cried watching her mother hold her hand.  It's selfish, and it's jealousy.  I know it's wrong to be jealous, but she had her mom. My mother won't be holding my hand when I go into surgery.  Don't get me wrong!! I have plenty of people who love me and will be there with me.  There will be way more people than need to be there, but none of them are my mother.  I wonder if they will let me keep my pocket angel in my hand during surgery?  I'll have to remember to ask.  I have really gotten off topic....back to my appointment.  Sorry.  So,  Cassie explained to me that the incision will not be under the breasts.  It will be in a () shape around the nipple.  It will be two incisions one above the nipple and one under that  connect on either side and make a rounded diamond shape.  They will remove all of the breast tissue through this "hole".  When they begin removing the tissue on the second breast, the plastic surgeon will come in and install the "bag" (it's called a tissue expander) on the first breast.  There will be three people working at the same time to get done as quickly as possible so that I am not under anesthesia longer than necessary.  This process will take 4-5 hours. When the "holes" are sewn together it will be a straight line.  It will be 5-6 inches across each breast. The drains will be located on the outside of the incisions. There will be two tubes from each breast.  One is a drain tube, and the other is a tube in which the fluid will be injected each week.  It's quite possible that the surgery will be the first week in January.  That's only 14 weeks. 
     The first week following surgery will be very difficult.  I will be unable to use my arms.  The bandages will need to be changed.  I will have to wear a special cami-shirt that fastens in the front.  I will have to wear front buttoning shirts as well since I won't be able to do over the head things with my arms. This is going to so very difficult.  Who's gonna wipe my hiney?!? One of the first thoughts I had.  I know that I shouldn't have a problem with this, but this is a big deal for me.  Other than my mother, NO ONE has ever had to clean my goodies!! I don't even pee in front of my husband.  How do I think that I am going to let him help me with this task? This is a very big concern for me.  I know there are people that will do it...I can name several: my grandma, my husband, my sisters, my daughter.  I know these people will do it.  I don't want them to.  I want to go pee alone, and wipe myself! Uhg!!! How awful.  OH my gosh!!! It just occurred to me:  what if I'm on my menstrual cycle?  *blank stare*  I am done with this paragraph.
     I have so many things in my head. There are so many concerns.  There are so many ideas bouncing around.  I can't keep focused on one thing.  I replace all of these thoughts with work.  I have started working more hours.  I get up at 4am with my mind running a hundred miles per hour.  I get to work by 5am, and work work work until 6,7,8pm. When I get home, I edit.  I keep my mind busy. Lately we have been going to dinner a lot which gets me out of the house and away from editing & working for a little bit.  It's good for me.  I know it is.
     It's so hard to be at home.  A while back my son (Brian) decided that he wanted to go live with his dad. We waited until after the spring season of baseball because our lives revolve around baseball.  I moved him to his dads this summer. That was a very tough day for me.  Now I walk by his empty room, and sometimes I stop to cry on his bed. I miss him so much.  I still talk to him.  I get him every other weekend, but after having him for his entire 12 years of life...it's hard to not have him at home. He was honest with me in this decision.  He said that he had prayed for a long time before the topic had come up, and he was certain that this was what he wanted to do.  I know it doesn't mean that he won't come back home.  I hang on to a glimmer of hope that one day he may decide that he wants to come home, but I also realize that's not fair to his dad who has missed so much in Brian's life since we separated in 2006. This too runs through my head all the time. 
     I am worried about so much that is going on in my life. I am not a worrier.  Not typically.  Some days my brain is in over load.  Most days. Some days there is so much in my head that I don't voice, and that makes me feel so alone sometimes. Do not get me wrong...I know that this is one of the many times in my life where there is only one set of footprints. I am so thankful for a God who loves me so very much. More than I can possibly fathom. That is comforting in itself.
~Darla

Everyone's "dream body" is different.

     Let's talk about my weight history.  Let's talk about personal goals.  I love blogging all of this stuff...because one day I may want to look back and remember these things.
     I have always been firm in my belief that if you want something bad enough, you can obtain it.  I realize there are exceptions to this belief.  Let's say my goal is to have a date with Dwight Yoakum. That's not gonna happen.  For one, I'm married, and that's completely inappropriate.  Secondly, he's doesn't know I'm alive nor will he ever.  I suppose if I wanted it bad enough I could be a groupie, and travel the country to be at his every concert. I could stand outside his house, and wait for him to meet me...or wait to be arrested.  The fact still remains.  If you want something bad enough, you will anything to obtain it. Make sense?  You can pick just about anything and figure out the order of events that would need to happen to obtain it.  If you want it bad enough. :)
     So, now lets talk about my weight. *rolls eyes*  Through high school I was always 120-125lbs.  I am 5'1", so that's not rail thin.  I wore a size 5.  I've always had large thighs. Always.  I'm not pear shaped, just evenly proportioned.   I, like a lot of people, gained weight after high school.  I was still a runner as an adult.  I love to run.  I love winter runs with the cold air in my chest.  I love the way my legs feel like jelly after a long run.  At the age of 23, I got married to my first husband (we don't all get it right on the first try).  I weighed 130.  I didn't run as much, but I still ran.  I've been a vegetarian as long as I can remember, so I eat mostly healthy. My enemy: rice and pasta.  I love rice.  I super love pasta. Pasta is the easiest way to make a vegetarian meal and be full. Starches in general are not healthy unless you are really exercising.  Running 3 miles a couple of times a week was not burning it off.  I was not a soda drinker.  I have never been a big fan of sweets, so I was able to maintain a healthy weight without a lot of exercise.
     Right before our first anniversary, I was in a pretty bad car accident.  I rolled a Ford Explorer on a gravel road on my way home.  I hurt my hip really bad.  I had no seatbelt on because I was only driving a few miles from the post office in town to our house out in the boonies. I remember the first few flips.  I held the steering wheel as tight as I could.  The first flip broke all of the windows on the drivers side.  As I was holding the steering wheel my whole left side hit hard on the gravel road.  I did not have skin on my left side from upper hip bone to my knee. There was no way I could run.  It was months before I was able to.  I put on weight. Not a ton, but it happens slowly.
      I got pregnant with my son right after our first anniversary. I weighed 143.  I was so sick with him through the entire pregnancy that I only gained 7lbs.  I weighed 150lbs when I gave birth.  I left the hospital weighing less than when I got pregnant.  When my son was 5, my husband left me.  No hard feelings.  We were not terrible together, but we had our problems.  All these years later, we are still friends.  He's a great guy, but we just couldn't make it.  No, this is not what I wanted, but I understand why he left.  It takes two people to make a marriage work.  Both people have to want it.  It is NOT a one sided commitment. Enough about that.  So, I was hurt and angry that he left me.  I'm not sure why I was shocked, I wasn't a good wife.  Cleaning and dusting are not my strong suite. :) When he left, my eating habits became horrendous. I was eating anything I wanted.  I wasn't trying to be healthy.  I didn't care any more.  I had no one to impress.
      In the first year after he left I gained weight. Not terrible.  I was 155ish and wearing a size 11. My weight was still evenly distributed...I was just bigger all over. Again, don't get me wrong. This is not a bad size.  I knew lots of people that would have liked to be a size 11.  This was my first time in a double digit size. I wasn't particularly concerned.  After all, I was a vegetarian.  Pssssh.  Vegetarians are some of the most unhealthy people because they don't do in a healthy way. I wasn't a vegetarian because I just love Bambi, cows, and chickens.  I really just don't care for the chewing part.  I know that's weird. It's the fleshy tearing part that bothers me.  I periodically like a hotdog if I'm in the mood.  I've been known to eat sausage wraps after a couple beers and a Red Flyer wagon ride.  That's a wild story...for another time. :) 
     So, I was 28, single, eating crap, not exercising, and not caring.  By the time I was 30 I weighed 195.  I didn't realize that I had put on that much weight.  It was around Christmas time, and my mother insisted on a picture of all of us girls and our partners on the front steps of the house.  In the picture I was big.  I was the biggest sister.  There are 6 of us girls, and I was the fat one.  I know that 195lbs doesn't seem like a lot.  I know there are people out there that would love to be 195.  I know this.  I do not think that heavy people are gross.  I see the beauty inside and out.  Little known fact about me:  I am a chubby chaser.  I date heavy people.  I love them.  I love the way weight looks on people. I am not the only one out there that is like that. This is not an absurd obsession.  I love sexy rolls on men and women.  I love heavy people.  I really do think that curves and rolls are sexy.   However, looking in the mirror, I didn't like them on my self.  I did not feel sexy.  I felt that couldn't pull off clothes that were in style.  Girls that were bigger than me were wearing these cute clothes, and looking fantastic.  I didn't feel good about my self.  I started wearing clothes that were big and flowing. I wore baby doll shirts way after they went out of style.  When I met my second husband he was 300lbs.  I love every single pound of it!! 195lbs is not a bad weight.  It would be a fantastic weight for someone 5'7".  At 5'1" I was not carrying the weight well.  I started noticing things that were more difficult to do.  I hadn't even tried to run in at least 2 years. I was still eating crap food.  Lots of fast food, vending machine cuisine, tons of soda, and lots and lots of salt. Mexican food was my go to.  Oh yes, cheese enchiladas, rice, beans, guacamole, and a basket of chips and salsa.  This alone is about 2,000 calories. I would eat this for one meal.  So, it's possible that some days I was easily taking in 5,000 calories. I was eating 2 breakfast tacos each morning.  Potato and egg breakfast tacos...200 calories each.  Mexican food for lunch because that was really the only restaurant in the town I worked in at the time.  Dinner was whatever.  A large can of Ravioli, Pasta salad, usually Italian food because it was cheap and easy to make. I maintained 195 for a while.
     I met my second husband when I was 33.  Actually we had known each other since the 5th/6th grade.  He was a year ahead of me in school.  We will skip all of the details on how we met up again.  I'll blog about that at another time.  :)  When we met, nothing had changed with my eating habits and exercise. I weighed 190.  I was wearing a size 18. We dated for almost a year when he asked me to marry him.  We both wanted to work on our weight before we got married. He lost almost 40 pounds, and I lost 15.  We were both using the My Fitness Pal ap.  That was huge for me.  I really had no idea how many calories a person was supposed to eat.  I certainly had no idea that I was eating 3-4xs my daily caloric allowance.  I had a really hard time with this. Pasta is 200 calories for one cup.  I could easily sit down and eat an entire box of Mac and Cheese by my self. One box is 1200 calories. My problem was not just what foods I was eating, but also my portion intake.  It was a real bummer to only lose 15 pounds in 8 months.  I felt again like a failure. My weight through the first 3 years of our marriage fluctuated between 170-185.  After my mom died last year, I was eating crap again.  I was really fed up with life, my body, just everything. Depression was probably not as far off as I'd like to think it was.
     Sometime late last year, I mentioned to my daughter something like "blah blah back when I was a size 7".  She said, "I don't ever remember you being small".  Ouch.  My kids only remembered having a heavy mom. I don't care for the word heavy...I prefer chubby, but whatever.  This year, 2014, was the year.  I was done. I was not going to live like this anymore. Ricky was fed up with his weight as well.  It's hard to be intimate when you feel disgusting. We were being intimate in the dark only. No daytime hanky-panky. Hiding away from intimacy and avoiding affection because you are uncomfortable in your own body is damaging to a relationship. I can understand how one could become depressed being overweight and hating it. So, in January, we went to the gym and bought a one year membership.  Oh yeah, big commitment.  January 1st 2014, I weighed 187 lbs.  I was wearing a size 16 at the time. We were going to the gym and working out at least 5 times a week.  I was still using My Fitness Pal.  I was really really careful with portions and food choices.  This time was different.  I had weighed more than I did nine months pregnant for the last 7 years. I was determined to get under my 9 month pregnant weight.  I was almost 30 lbs heavier than I was at 9 months pregnant!! This was going to be hard, but I wanted it bad enough.  I wanted it really bad. I was talking to a friend one day about wanting to lose weight.  She is heavier than me.  She actually got upset with me for talking about being overweight, and how I needed to let it go because a lot of people would love to be my weight.  She told me that I was not overweight, and I needed to let it go.  She said that I actually "piss her off" when I talk about it. I had no idea. I seriously had no idea. I was actually a bit in shock.  All people are different.  Everyone's "dream body" is different. I quit talking about my weight to anyone that was bigger than me.  I certainly didn't mean to offend anyone.  I would never intentionally offend someone. Well...not about that.   Anyway, back on topic.  So, by March we had really been working out almost every day. We were eating better, and reasonable portions. Ricky drops weight faster than me.  I think males in general lose faster than women. He was really slimming up.  In late March I weighed 173lbs. I was doing it!! I was losing weight!! I had lost 14lbs in 3 months.  Not really as fast as I was hoping, but hey! It was happening. 
     It was in April that we fell off the wagon.  Lovely.  We quit going to the gym.  Life was crazy.  I was working 70-100 hours per week. I was eating out of the vending machine.  I guess I didn't want it bad enough after all.  In June, I had put some of the weight back on.  I'm not sure how much because I wasn't recording it at that time on My Fitness Pal.  In July, I tried to put on a pair of my bigger jeans.  They were a size 16.  They were too tight to be comfortable. How could I have not wanted it bad enough?!?
     In early August, I was done (again) with this weight problem.  This time I did something completely different.  I prayed.  I cried and prayed. I told God that I was sorry that I was not respecting His temple.  If my body is a temple of God's then I was shaming His temple.  I felt terrible about it.  I asked him to take away my want for crap food, fast food, and vending machine cuisine.  It was an entirely different outlook on my weight. I started going to the gym without Ricky.  I was working out harder than ever. I started taking B12 on a regular basis (which my mother always said I needed to take). The first few days I noticed an increase in energy, and loss of appetite.  I chalked that up to stress at work and lack of time to eat.  I remember a time that I had gone to the vending machine and nothing looked good. Nothing. I instead had a huge thing of water. For the first week, I couldn't figure out the loss of appetite.  One night really late at work probably 9pm or so, it hit me.  Maybe it was the B12??  I searched loss of appetite with B12. BINGO!! Apparently at weight loss clinics, they actually inject patients with B12 to help with weight loss and hunger.  Really?? Duh!  Should have totally researched it before popping those things like TicTacs. I was taking 3000 micrograms per day. Prior to this I was drinking 10+ Diet Cokes per day for energy.  The need to have sodas was gone. I love the taste, but no longer needed them for the caffeine boost. I drink maybe 1 a day now.  I haven't had on in three days, and haven't needed the caffeine. I feel fine.  The energy is level and healthy.  I know about the loss of appetite now, so I have to actually think about eating.  It's unhealthy to NOT eat.  I am eating small portions, still going to the gym, and taking 2,000 micrograms per day of B12.  I am spreading it out through out the day.  I start the day with 1,000 micrograms.  Then I take 1,000 more after lunch.  I am still hitting the gym hard. My eating choices are so much healthier. I don't want fried foods. At all.  I don't want pasta.  I don't like the way it makes me feel. If I do have pasta, it's a very small amount. I've only had one cup serving of pasta on the last month.  I eat vegetables.  I actually crave them.  They are fantastic for energy, and easy for the body to burn.  I quit eating salads.  The salads I was eating were high in salt and calories. If I want a salad I eat some lettuce leaves and a few tomatoes.  I really feel that God heard me and is helping me.  He has taken away my craving for all of my favorite foods, potatoes, fries, rice, salt, butter, soda, fried anything, bread, and so many other things.  I almost feel swollen after I eat bread. I had a half of a biscuit yesterday at lunch.  It didn't even taste good. It tasted like...dough...or flour. It wasn't good.
     My husband is not happy with this.  I think he feels that I am starving to death.  I'm not. I am eating.  It's just not what he is used to seeing me eat. I am by no means suggesting that anyone try this.  I am not a doctor, and I am certainly not a health expert. I did talk to my doctor, and I am not overdoing the B12.  Someone else at work started taking B12, and has discovered the same thing.  He actually has to remember to eat something during the day.  Another person said that it did not change anything for them.  They mentioned it to their doctor during a routine physical in which the doctor told them that B12 is good for energy but only for those who are B12 deficient. So, it's not for everyone.  Last night I went to the gym.  For the first time in as long as I can remember I was able to wear a shirt that was snug on my body.  I've been wearing tee shirts, but they are all way to big and hard to work out in.  I was wearing a fitted tank!!! I can't ever remember a time in my life when I was able to do that. 
     I was not going to blog about this in fear of offending someone because I felt big at 187.  I figure that I write this blog for myself and my life experiences.  I want to make it very clear that I am not PC.  I speak what's on my mind without a filter.  I have always been like this. I just speak what I feel.  I hope this doesn't end up on some media page where it goes viral and people bash me for my choices and opinions. Who is anyone to judge my opinions? Yeah right, it happens all the time...to all of us.

I would like to finish up with saying that today I weigh 157lbs.  My size 14s are too big, but I'm not in a 12...yet.  I do not have long term goals...I am just marking my goals at 5lbs at a time.  My goal is 5 more pounds by Friday of next week.  Small goals are so much easier to work towards...for me.

My apologies for this being the longest blog I've ever written...I just like to talk.  :) I can talk on here to myself for as long as I want to. :)