BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Tidying Up

I’ve been slimming down. Well, perhaps that’s an overstatement, but I have been watching what I eat and I’ve lost a few pounds. I still have a long way to go to get to “slim” and frankly, I don’t know that I’ll ever reach that status, but I am making positive changes.

The decisions that I’ve been making have been based on what works for me, and they are becoming a little bit easier to make. Yes, I still have some bad habits, after all they are deeply ingrained, but I’m making progress. I like looking in my refrigerator and seeing things that I know are good for me.

I like having a pantry with items that provide me with strength, not empty calories.

A super tidy closet. Disclaimer: not mine!

A super tidy closet. Disclaimer: not mine!

I feel empowered by the control I have over my environment.

Except that I don’t really feel that I have control over my environment at all. The other day I looked around my house, and nearly every flat surface had stuff on it that didn’t belong. I knew it was time to clean it up, in a big way. Imagine how glad I was when the online library I use informed me that The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing by Marie Kondo was available. People have been buzzing about this book, and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

First of all, it was a really quick read. The tone is conversational and it’s easy to follow. There is a lot of content about her own history of learning to “tidy” and her way of thinking about the objects a person has. She believes that our things all want to serve us, but we often have so much that we don’t take care of what we have, or even use it. We should make choices about what to keep and what to discard based on one simple question, “Does this item spark joy?” Just reading that question brought to mind many items that do not spark joy, and even cause irritation. Why am I hanging on to those things?

Her method for “tidying” follows a specific order, and since she’s the expert and I have no desire to argue the point, I decided to try it out on the first item on the list: shirts. The idea is to take them all out of their hiding places (drawers, closet, wherever you keep them) then pick up the items one by one. Each one should “guide” your decision, either it sparks joy or it doesn’t.

I suppose I have a lot of shirts. I have t-shirts and tanks that I fold on shelves, I have blouses that hang, I have long-sleeved t-shirts folded on a different shelf, and I have a few jackets, sweaters, and sweatshirts. So far I’ve only gone through the t-shirts and tanks. I kept about half. I feel lighter already. Tomorrow I tackle the long-sleeved t-shirts. Who knows, I may even finish the tops tomorrow.

When I walked into my closet tonight to get my pajamas, I felt the difference. The t-shirts I kept were happier because they weren’t squished and they had more of a chance to be worn. The whole closet is starting to look and feel a little lighter and better. I can relate!

Just like my weight loss, it will take time to go through the steps necessary to make long-term changes, but it can be done. I’m looking forward to living with less, and enjoying my space more. As Flylady always says, “You can’t organize clutter.” Amen to that!


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Where Were You on September 11?

twintowers1I was getting ready for work, early, and the phone rang.

It was Mom, back east.

I turned on the tv.

Just then a second plane hit.

I couldn’t process what was happening.

A tower collapsed.

All those people.

All those lives lost.

I couldn’t make sense of it.

The sky was empty and silent.

Even the birds were grounded.

I needed stories.

I needed to hear about the people.

It was too big to grasp.

I needed human faces to make it real.

I kept my child away from the tv.

He saw anyway.

He crashed block towers.

Just like the bad men.

I was heartsick.

How could I protect him?

How could any of us feel safe?

September 11 changed us.

September 11 changed the world.


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A Taste of Fiction

Here is a short piece I wrote for a class I’m taking. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism. Thanks!

Fourteen Months and Then Some

            I’m foggy at first, unsure of my surroundings, but a flash of lightning illuminates the cinderblock and I remember where I am. It’s been fourteen months, three weeks, and two days since I last saw them, kissing their soft damp heads goodbye in the August heat. I inhaled their baby powder scent deeply and promised I would be back soon, a promise I knew I couldn’t keep. Still, they looked at me with those big wet eyes, just like always. I turned away so they couldn’t see me cry. I never let them see me cry.

When they were born three years ago, I promised myself things would change. They were four weeks early and so tiny. I spent hours in the ICU with them, stroking them gently, willing them to live. We were alone, even when the room buzzed with activity. Jax and Maddie. Maddie and Jax. The perfect babies I was never meant to have.

All through high school I cramped and puked every month. My mother was a drunk and told me I was a drama queen. I wish. Years later, a pretentious doctor at the free clinic announced that I would never have children. Perfect. I never wanted them anyway. I was sure I would be a horrible mother, based on my own horrible mother. Besides, kids were a nuisance, and expensive too. I had plans, and they didn’t include kids.

Things change, though, whether you want them to or not. I just knew I was pregnant as soon as it happened. God must have been in a funny mood that night, because he gave me two babies to carry. I was pissed. That was not supposed to happen, but it did. Son-of-a-bitch. Those babies made me stop and think, though, at least a little.

I wanted to go back to school, but school costs money, and money is one thing I have precious little of, especially after having two babies in the ICU for so long. There was no money for extras, and hardly any for even food or diapers. Still, I got by. I did some things I maybe shouldn’t of, but I had to. Nobody else was taking care of us.

I suppose it was bound to happen eventually, but I still didn’t expect it. I got caught. I was stupid. I was on the way to pick up my kids when I made a detour, like I’d done so many times before. It was going to be quick. I needed the cash. Too bad for me I let my guard down. Too bad for me I lost my kids that night.

Fourteen months, three weeks, and two days. A lifetime of not seeing my babies. I turn to the wall and there they are, frozen in a blurry photo. Maddie and Jax, smiling without me. I smile back in spite of my self, then wipe away my tears.