ROI

Usually when Brad and I discuss ROI, we're talking about an investment we made in something.  We invest our money as wisely as we can and like to avoid things that don't have a good Return On Investment.  But as we were chattering away on our way home from Carvel tonight I got thinking about that term.  ROI, it's not just in business dealings really is it?

Let me pontificate the point.

Did you ever know one of THOSE people?  They one up you on everything.  I have a neighbor who actually had to do that with her washing machine.  I had just gotten a new front loading washer that could handle 16 pair of jeans at a time I was telling another mom at the bus stop.  I needed it for all of the legs that wore pants in this house at the time.  Well this woman went on to tell me HER washing machine was better.  It could hold 32 towels at a time, mine was nothing compared to hers.

hahahaha, I looked at her like she was from fricking Mars I swear.  I told her I was happy for her and if she wanted to come over and grab 32 of my dirty towels she was welcomed to wash them any time, but I digress.  Needless to say there was no ROI in that neighborly relationship.  Anything I invested was constantly one upped.  I couldn't handle it, I finally stopped talking to her when she had to point out to another neighbor her sprinkler system had more heads than hers and was therefore better.  Just one of those relationships not worth investing your time in.

One of my first friends in VA from 20 years ago was another toxic relationship I had to end.  I tried so hard to keep this friendship going, but again no ROI.  I gave and gave and gave.  This woman gleefully took and took and took.  And her kid was sooooooooooo much better than mine.  My kid can read better than yours, my kid can spell better than yours, my kid got invited to a birthday party and yours didn't, my kid can ride a bike better than yours, my kid can swim better than yours, my kid is a better artist than yours.  I can go on and on, but why?  You get the gist of it right?  I finally got tired of it, I couldn't do it anymore so I had to walk away.  BAD investment with no return.

Then there are the trickier relationships that you really can't cut ties with, as much as you might want to.  Sometimes they are business, sometimes they are family but for whatever reason you can't stop the bleeding and you have to do your best to stanch it.

I have friends that own a business and they have to deal with this crazy person neither of them care very much for, but they don't have a choice because their businesses intersect.  As much as they'd like to say go soak your head, they cannot because it wouldn't be prudent to do so business wise with what pull this business associate has.  They limit their interactions to the bare bones and hope for the best with each meeting.  Minimal return on their painful investment, but worth the effort I suppose.

What happens though, when it's a family member?  We all have those people in our families.  A dear friend of mine from a job I had many moons ago once said to me, "Family, unfortunately, you are born and stuck with.  Friends, thankfully you can chose".  Think about it, makes loads of sense.  I hate that people automatically think you have to put up with them merely because of the DNA and blood that you share.   There are people you should just be allowed to walk away from regardless of ties.  But you never really can.  Another friend told her brother who had gotten a girl pregnant you might as well marry her, you'll be tied to her for the rest of your life through the child you share together.  Ok, maybe wrong idea there, but her point about being irrevocably tied to this woman once their child came was true.  I think his working on a positive relationship with this woman would result in a happy kid, so there is a huge ROI in that particular situation. The mom on the other hand is a total nut ball.  He probably did know that before he got into this situation.  Wear a condom next time.  Consider it a stop loss order for this type of investment.

Another friend has an aunt who is bar none THE most negative woman I have ever encountered.  She has had some major issues in her life, no denying that, but this woman is the glass is half empty kind of person.  There will never be joy in that woman's Mudville and yet everyone tolerates her.  "We have to she's family", I heard the last time I asked why she even bothers to talk to this woman.  If you we're told you were going to have to throw every dollar you make into a furnace, you wouldn't do it would you?  Why let yourself be burned every time by this caustic person??

Don't get me wrong, I don't think all relationships aren't worth the effort.  Far from the truth!

Of course there are my kids too.  I feel like every minute I spend talking to my 16 year old, or reading with my 9 year old or laughing with my 13 year old go into their memory bank.  I hope the Cupid shuffling in our kitchen at random moments, or jumping out and scaring each other when we least expect it, or holding them as they cry because a friend has hurt them so grievously, or sat with them while they were sick, or go over and above to make an awesome holiday whatever the holiday is or help them reach a goal, grab that dream they have been pursuing, will be something that helps them grow into happy adults someday.  There are the moments where I drop the ball, no two ways about it.  Moments when I say the absolute wrong thing, grab an arm too roughly, exclaim in exasperation at something they've done by accident and they feel badly enough about that I add salt to that wound.  All I can do is apologize and move on to a better moment with them.  I hope that by apologizing to my girls, it makes them realize it's ok to make mistakes as long as you correct what the wrong is and make amends.  But my kids are an investment I would make over and over again.  Sometimes the return is less than favorable in the short term, but I am looking long term here.  I keep investing in this 401k.  I will be rewarded with grandkids in my retirement at the very least :)

My marriage is another investment I have reaped more than my fair share with.  Holy cow, I will liken Brad to a penny stock.  I invested almost NOTHING here, except my faith in us.  Penny stocks are sexy, kind of a dangerous investment, you never know how they will turn.  A lot like my relationship with Brad at first.  HUGE risk involved, however the reward can be just as huge.  I didn't know him, met him, fell head over heels and decided to go for it.  Risky, we got engaged in less than 3 months of knowing each other, married less than a year later. That was almost 23 years ago....Huge risk, huge investment best.return.eva...I invest every day and the return is sweet whether it's hearing every time I turn around how beautiful I am, how good I am at whatever it is I am doing, arms around me when I need them, smooches hello and goodbye, I love yous that make my stomach still get quivery every single time I hear them, it always sounds as beautiful as the first time I heard those words.

Hmmm, never fancied myself the type who really "got" all of this ROI stuff, not the numbering kind, but put in the right perspective, I get it.  And the ROIs of this kind are really the important kinds in our lives aren't they?

For each beautiful life that enters this world, one has to leave...

That came from a dream I had.  Or at least I convinced myself it was a dream.  That thought comes to me every time I hear about a precious life leaving this world for the next.

I had this best friend from high school, I still have two, but this girl was my third.  She was someone I will never forget meeting.

I went from a small, Catholic school into our public high school.  I had 32 or so in my class for 8 years.  Same classroom, no upstairs/downstairs.  I went into Glen Cove High which at the time seemed massive.  It had two floors!  It had two cafeterias, it had many, many classrooms compared to St. Hyacinth's.  Anyway one day during my freshman year I saw this girl standing outside one of the science classrooms crying her eyes out.  I didn't know who she was, she was sort of heavy set, had blonde hair and was crying away.  I had to stop, it must have been during class because there was no one in the hall at the time.  I asked her what was wrong, she wouldn't answer at first.  Then she sort of hiccuped at me "it's stupid really, I'm fine",  I promised I wouldn't think it was stupid, she was breaking my heart with how sad she was.  She finally said, "my dog died this morning" and burst into a fresh round of tears.  I hugged her, and promised her I didn't think it was stupid, I have been an animal lover my whole life and I am sure I tried to make her feel better in some clumsy 14 year old way.  But that day started a beautiful friendship.

Her name was MaryAnn, but her nickname was MiMi.  We did all sorts of fun stuff together.  She pulled me into a new circle of friends which was welcomed since most of Glen Cove High School freshman went to middle school together and didn't go to one of the Catholic schools.  She introduced me to Punk and New Wave, two genres of music I was unfamiliar with at the time, and had the neatest outlook on things.  Some of my fondest memories were driving around, blasting music with her.  Or sitting at the beach.  Or going to Depeche Mode, Squeeze, Madness, OMD, insert any 80's new wave band here and we probably went to their concert together.  She didn't look for trouble, she was an honestly good and decent person.  She wouldn't even curse.  She just didn't have a mean bone in her body.

College came and went, she was still one of my best friends.  Brad and I met and she was in my wedding. Brad loved her.  She used to refer to him as "that guy Brad".  "Tell that guy Brad I said hello!"   She was getting her masters in Physical Therapy and when we went home to visit my mom and dad she'd pop us on the kitchen table to practice massage techniques she had learned.  She had me rolling with the stories of the butt massage she had to give to that smelly guy in her class and gross me out with stories about what happened to the cadavers they worked with at school....She was such a pure soul.

When I got pregnant with my first daughter she was fascinated by my growing pregnancy, she called frequently letting me know things I could do to get comfortable with my ever burgeoning belly.  She would lament that Richmond was too far from Glen Cove and wished we could see each other.

I had my baby, she was over the moon about her.  I remember speaking to her, it was before her finals.  When she passed, she would be a physical therapist.  How proud I was of her!  She always loved sports, it was her brother's season tickets to the Rangers that brought us to Madison Square Garden to see our beloved team play.  She was going to make her living taking care of athletes she said.

She told me she would be up to her eyeballs in studying and would call me after her last final to tell me how she did.  She was always an amazing and diligent student. I knew she's rock it I told her. She heard Bailey make a baby noise in the background, I was holding her and cradling the phone, and MiMi melted.  We wrapped up the phone call as Bailey started to fuss to eat.  I remember MiMi saying to me, "Dee, I can't wait to hold her!"  I told her I missed her, good luck, and I couldn't wait to see her and we got off the phone.

Maybe two weeks later, she still hadn't called me about her finals, our mutual friend called and asked me if I was sitting.  I was as a matter of fact, I was watching that Bass/Rankin Little Drummer Boy Christmas special, Christmas wasn't even 2 weeks away.  And she told me that MiMi had been in a horrible car accident.  Someone hit her from behind, she hit the car in front of her etc...many cars involved.  The roof of her car bent like a V, crushed her head and she was on life support.  I won't tell you what it was like until I got the next phone call about a week later telling me she was gone.  She finally flat lined and there was no brain activity that came back after that wreck.  And then, like that feather in Forrest Gump, her spirit blew away to where ever good souls go when they've used their time up here.

My family told me there was no way I could travel to her wake and funeral with a baby that wasn't even a month old yet.  She's too small blah, blah, blah.  Being a first time mom I stupidly listened and didn't go.  I regretted that decision, I still do to this day.  I didn't get to go through the Catholic ritual that I was accustomed to in saying good bye.  I didn't get my chance to mourn with friends we had in common, I didn't get my closure.  After all wakes and funerals really aren't for the dead are they?  They are how the living cope with a loved one dying...

So one night, not too many weeks later, I dreamed of her, the most vivid dream, it was almost real I swear.  She woke me up.  She shook me as I slept and asked if we could talk.  I jumped up and hugged her in my dream.  I cried, I told her how much I missed her, I started babbling telling her I was sorry I wasn't at her wake or at her funeral.  I kept grabbing her and kept hugging her.  Then we sat on the foot of my bed and she held my hand as we talked.

I asked her why she had to die.  She told me that the Lord explained to her we all reach a level of perfection at one time or another in our lives.  When that time comes, the Lord calls us home. Sometimes it's a baby that isn't even born yet, sometimes it's a child, sometimes it's a person who has lived a long life, we all have our time.  When it comes you have to go.  And there are those who just never reach that point, people who are evil at heart and won't reach salvation, they die as well but they don't go where the good people go. Then she said to stop suffering over not going to her funeral and wake. She knew I wanted to be there, she knew how much I loved her and to let it go. She also told me I wouldn't dream of her again for a long time, that she couldn't see me again for awhile.  She said she couldn't watch me sad about the whole situation any longer so she arranged to visit me earlier than she should have, whatever that meant.  I told her I didn't want her to go, but she got up to leave, I knew she couldn't stay.

She said as she was going as she got up, for every beautiful life that enters this world Dee, one has to leave.  With that thought hanging in the air, she was gone.

I have a friend who is mourning a loss right now and it brought to mind those last few seconds with MiMi all those years ago. And those words, they have stayed with me forever.  I know for the beautiful life my friend is mourning, a beautiful one will come to take his place....

Deep thoughts....sort of

As I am still in the throes of my marathon cleaning session, it has easily lasted for two weeks now, I have been thinking.

A lot.

I hate cleaning, the tedium of it all, but it does have a mental benefit for me.  I hash out so much.  I have deep thoughts ala Jack Handy style, but others are truly deep.  For example, today I thought as I was getting coated in dust as I cleaned ceiling fan blades, base boards, under filing cabinets my eyes were feeling fuzzy from it all.  I got thinking I bet I look like King Neptune from the Sponge Bob movie when he sprays the hair in a can in his eyeballs instead of on his head and his eyes sprout furry brown hair.

Next I got thinking of how a simple greeting from a good friend last night, brought a much needed smile to my face.  We had a wedding reception to go to last night, it was at the Country Club of Virginia and we were requested to wear beachy kind of dressy clothes.  I had nothing that I could wear, so I went out last minute, did I mention I was at work up to my elbows in food grade silicon greaser from putting ice cream dispensing machines together, to try and find something.  It was just one of those days where nothing, absolutely nothing, looked good.  I was in a particularly cross mood because there was nowhere to park, I had to walk a million miles to the store I wanted to "just pop over" to and be in and out of so I could get back to work to pick up my girls who were still working, but that idea was nixed pretty quickly.  I go stomping into Cache, after my Tourettes fueled cursing tirade trying to find a parking spot, and start rifling through the racks.  I picked out easily 10 things that would have worked.  Would have being the operative phrase.  NOTHING looked right, good, fit well, just nothing.  I finally took this one dress that had a florally print, blouson top and tight short skirt.  It didn't look as well on me as it does on this lovely model, but it worked.

I got some strappy white patent leather wedge sandals, a chunky gold bracelet and off we went.  But I was tugging at the skirt, pulling at the shoulder, rearranging my molecules non-stop. Not happy at all, still trying to shake the whole shopping experience from my mind, the woman taking my NO dresses away at Cache saying that the skirt "accentuated" my thighs a bit much (which is one feature on my body besides my tummy that I am overly self conscious about) and just look forward to the celebration ahead.

Tug, tug, tug, shift, pull, tug, pull.....Greet friends that you really love hanging out with and never have enough time to see them as much as you'd like.  Sit and have a Sea Breeze, some prosciutto tug, tug, tug, pull....more friends come in, get up to hug and kiss hello.  And as you walk over to a particularly favorite couple you hear the guy say "Hello beautiful" followed by a huge hug. Oh are you referring to me???  And at that, I stopped the rearranging.  I let my molecules be. Someone was seeing me with the eyes I wished I had and I stopped myself.  Let myself have fun, and let it all loose when they played the Cupid Shuffle  and no one was really out there showing them how it gets done.

Then I got thinking of the Cupid Shuffle.  Silly song really, but one that makes my day every time I hear it.  I believe it has to do with Christmas Cookies, Katie's Birthday, my girls in the kitchen as I was making my special Italian Rainbow cookies and Katie put it on.  We all stopped what we were doing and started shuffling together.  It was a rare time when we were together and happy and all was good.  My girls played the song today and we all broke into the dance, I was covered in dust and grumbling about it, it was what I needed to hear.  It changes my mood immediately.

That got me thinking about music in general.  It is such an amazing thing if you think about it.  I have everything from the Carmina Burana, to the Overture of 1812 to AC/DC to Linkin Park to Run DMC to Ludacris on my Ipod.  There is something so interminable about music. There are some songs I listen to that make me happy, some help me through work outs that I think I'll never be able to make it through, some that bring tears to my eyes because the melody is such genius and I am awestruck that someone could weave notes together in such a moving way...Some that are so sensual to me that they are like porn to my ears. Others evoke memories, if I hear Hello by Martin Solveig I break out in a cold sweat and my stomach knots because that song was on before we started our Ironman Florida swim hahaha!  I couldn't live in a world without music to wrap around me.

Then I wondered what my dog thinks when she looks at me or he looks at me with those sweet eyes.  They just come over and look at me like they need something that only I can give them and I ask myself what is it that goes on in there?  Are you loving me at that moment when I am scratching your head as much as I am loving you?  Are you thinking, she might be tasty with barbeque sauce? Are you thinking, are you my mother?  I wish I knew....

I could go on and on, my thoughts threading together today, emptying from my mind like I had a wand and Dumbledore's pensieve...but I have so much more to do to get my house ready and I've rambled enough already.

Maybe cleaning and clearing the dust and cobwebs from my home is a way for me to clear the same from my head.  Cleaning is my mental floss.

Angels come in all sorts of packages.

As I swept up the umpteenth Artemis sized hair ball today, I am cleaning for some special visitors who will be a part of our family this next year almost, I thought of someone.  I don't even know his name, but he helped me one day, probably saved me even and I pray for him every time he comes to my mind.  It got me thinking it's funny how people come in and out of our lives.  Each person, regardless of how long they are there has a purpose and is significant somehow.

It was a dark and stormy night, no, not really, but Snoopy when he is writing on his doghouse always starts his story that way.  I thought I'd give it a try lol.

Geez, I was younger when I met this guy.  I was visiting my mom, dad was still alive too.  Brad couldn't come up with us, but he was going to fly and meet us, he was on a business trip, then drive back down with me.  My family had this thing about me driving alone with the kids, I got enough flak for driving up without him.  Anyway I had to go to LaGuardia to pick him up.  There was tons of road construction going on and there were detours galore.  I was doing alright, but after one turn I got really turned around.  Let me further date myself by saying there was no GPS readily available either.  I kept turning thinking I had it figured out, and then I looked around. *gulp* I wasn't in Kansas anymore Toto. Not even remotely close.  Holy smokes, I was in a pretty rough area.  I kept driving, hoping I didn't hit any red lights, hoping I could find my way out, but it was not to be.  So I did what any good Catholic girl does when she's scared, I prayed.  "Dear Lord, send me a guardian angel.  I have my kids with me and I am so lost"...as luck would have it I hit a red light.  I was scared and confused and trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do.  In front of me was this big, black Mercedes with windows so dark you couldn't see through them.  Suddenly someone got out of this car.  I vividly remember my heart racing, ready to fly out of my chest, he looked a lot like Biggie Smalls

but really tall, he was wearing all black, a black hat, leather duster, the whole nine yards, he was pimping it hard and at that precise moment as I am thinking all of this, he walked to my window and knocked on it.  Let's see if anyone can guess what happened next....insert the Jeopardy theme here....Did I pass out? Scream? Open my window?  Inquiring minds want to know.  

I opened my window and blurted out, before he could say anything, "I'm lost, could you please help me?"  Maybe it was the pathetically small voice I asked in, maybe it was the the tears in my eyes, maybe it was Katheryn (all of one or two) baldish, small and pink in the back seat smiling and waving like a maniac at my new found friend.  But his face broke into a smile. You know you look out of place in a neighborhood when the guy in front of you gets out of his car to ask you if you're lost.  He tried to tell me how many turns back I needed to make, I tried to keep up, but he finally said, "follow me".  I ask you again, what did I do?  Did I take that leap of faith?  Did I say, No, I have your directions I'm fine?  Survey says.....I took a leap of faith and followed him. 

I kept asking myself if I was crazy as we drove.  This guy could be leading me anywhere, kill me, my two girls and no one would ever know. I didn't have a cell phone back then either.  He lead us down this narrow road, there was a basketball court on one side surrounded by a chain link fence and on the other side was a graffiti covered building with cars parked along side of it.  There was the car in front of me I was following and a car behind.  Suddenly the car I was following jerked to a halt.  This is it I thought, I am trapped, no where to drive to get away, I am done for.  My eyes got all welly, I heard myself telling my girls it would be ok, we would get to daddy soon trying to keep my voice from shaking.  Then I saw that a car in front of my black Mercedes had stopped and kids were pouring out of the car running towards mine, GEEBUS CRIPES, I'M GONNA GET KILLED BY A BUNCH OF KIDS WITH BASKETBALLS....Oh, wait, they ran past my car, through the opening in the fence around the basket ball court and started dribbling away.  We started driving again.  About five minutes later my Mercedes stopped one more time.  Biggie got out again, came over to my window and said, "turn at that light and you will see the signs for the terminals.  Be safe in your travels my sister, God bless you".  I shook his outstretched hand with both of mine, and thanked him profusely, but really I don't think I could possibly convey how truly grateful I was.  Then he tipped his hat at me, walked over to his Mercedes and drove away.

Don't know how I got so lost, but I will never forget that man in his black Mercedes.  Whenever I remember him I thank God for sending me the coolest looking Guardian Angel ever.  I pray for him, his family although I don't know who I am praying for.

Makes me think of a line from a Billy Joel song, So many faces in and out of my life, some will last, some will be now and then.................and some will be Guardian angels, in black leather that you never forget.

Yeah, I climb walls, but in a good way.

I don't know if I will be able to follow up my last blog with anything that can even remotely come close to what I wrote.  I touched something in a great many of you.  I received so many PMs, ones that left a lump in my throat, that hitch that makes you swallow and blink a lot and me wishing that I could change things for everyone.  I wish there were a way to pop my eyeballs out and let you borrow them, so you can see you as beautifully as I, and the rest of the world do.  Then I wish you could do the same for me!  This is something we need to work on ladies, any ideas you have, send them to me.  I will craft a blog around them and revisit our issues.  A brainstorming session on how to heal!

But to get back to my subject line, I did climb a wall yesterday, sort of.  It was part of a Crossfit workout.  Basically you're doing a handstand, facing the wall and you scootch down the wall.  That was just part of the warm up, besides this insane ab work, and rowing and inchworms and I'm not even listing everything we did before we actually got to the workout for the day (henceforth known as the WOD)!

Brad dragged me along on another one of his ideas of a good time, like Sharkfest Swim from Alcatraz.  This time into the world of Crossfit.  Let me back up a bit.  My 9 year old was on a soccer team last year and one of her coaches owns a Crossfit box.  He and his wife just added a new member to their lovely family.  When we were at the end of season party someone handed that little angel to me, and well don't get me started on how I feel when I have a baby in my arms...That warm cuddle, the little noises they make, how wonderful they feel cradled in your arms, and I swear the top of their head smells like caramel to me, sweet and yummy.  Anyway Brad said to me, after speaking to Kevin who owns the place, we're doing Crossfit.  At that point of my holding this sweet baby smitten-ness, he could have said, "Oh, yes, after we eat we're doing another Ironman" and I'd have been all "Ok, just let me finish holding this bundle".  The old baby diversion, well played Brad, well played.  In my absentminded-baby holding-fog-on-the-brain-moment, I agreed to what?  I thought after I handed the baby back to his dad.  I had to look it up on YouTube.  I about barfed, what was I thinking??  Obviously I wasn't.  How could I be so foolish I thought?  But Brad committed us and I wasn't happy with Triathlon training anymore so here we go.....

............And here I am, 3 months plus later absolutely loving the workouts.  They are the hardest, most intense things, and that's just the warm up.  I want a shirt that says, "My warm up is your work out".  I get my workout done in an hours time, and I am good for the day.  It's pretty freaking awesome.  And the coaches don't let you have a defeatist attitude no matter how hard it gets.  There are no "I can'ts" allowed.  You can and you will, whether it's a scaled down version of what the WOD is, or it's the WOD as prescribed.  We all walk away feeling a sense of accomplishment, and we all walk away with a workout that is second to none.  My workout being just as difficult for me, as Brad's is for him. The camaraderie, the coaches, every one of them, it just rounds out one of the best work out experiences I have ever had.

This is the place we go to http://www.crossfitmidlo.com/.  Spartan and almost torture chamber-esque in it's decor, no cushy carpets, no fancy locker rooms/ladies room for comfort, no muzak or soft colors.  Just pull-up bars, rings and ropes hanging from the ceiling, weight bars standing at attention in the corner.  Spindles with various weight plates, rowing machines, kettle bells, medicine balls....its really IN YO FACE, WAKE UP AND GITCHA ASS MOVING NOOOOWWW kind of looking.  And it does affect me like that.  I wake up each morning looking forward to what the WOD is going to be.  After I put my eyes on, I reach for my phone and go on the Crossfit website to see what I will be inflicting on myself that day.  I particularly like the jello-y feeling in my belly when the countdown starts for our workout.  That beep, beep, beep and go...

So yes, I climb the walls, I push jerks, I hang, clean and snatch hahaha, had to put those together what a kid I am, but I can so there, among other crazy things I thought this old, gray mare wouldn't be able to do.

Now it's time for this old lady to head to bed, starting in 3 (beep), 2 (beep), 1 (beep).

I wish I could see what you see....

A friend of mine reminded me that I haven't blogged in a long while.  Life has been so crazy, I just haven't had the time or inspiration.  But as I looked at myself in the mirror this morning I thought to myself, "I wish I could see what Brad sees when he looks at me".  And a blog post was born.

See, I have this problem, when I look in a mirror I don't see the me of today.

I see the me of yesterday, the me in elementary school who was overweight.  The me of high school and my first year in college that needed so desperately to take care of herself, lose weight, stop smoking, so many things I would change.  But that is what I see.

It's funny some days it's elementary school Danielle.  The girl who boys like Kevin and Tommy picked on so mercilessly.  I can remember every single awful name ever thrown at me, the fat cows, pigs, hippos, horses, whales used to taunted and hurt.  I subsequently turned into a rather nasty kid.  My brother would step in and kick the living crap out of the boys that picked on me, because only HE could call me names.  Celia Cellulite being one of his more creative ones.  I do remember when one of the two above boys mentioned came up to me and told me he couldn't wait for my brother to graduate from St.Hyacinth's because he was going to get me.

My mom finally put me on this diet she saw in our local paper and I lost weight one summer.  Almost 20 pounds.  I was thrilled to go to school and get measured in front of everyone for my uniform, (yep they measured and called out sizes and everything, not one of my favorite days), thrilled to show them the new me.  That was my 7th grade year and the first year my brother wasn't in school with me.  I was even a cheerleader for the basketball team with my new found confidence.  Eighth grade came and the teasing started again.  Not sure why, I hadn't gained weight back, but that Tommy kid just couldn't stop with the names.  I finally had enough on our 8th grade class trip.  After a fun day at an amusement park we all got on the bus, went to get in our seats and he was sitting in mine.  In kid world it was a good one, near the back where all the cool kids sat.  I asked him to move and he refused.  Then he started in with the names.  I guess how many years of name calling finally caught up to me and I had had enough.  So I took him to the back seat, beat the ever living hell out of him myself (see my brother decided I needed to learn to defend myself in case those boys ever tried to hurt me) and broke two fingers in the process.  I can still remember his buddy Kevin screaming at him, are you gonna let a girl do this to you?? Hahahahaha!!  Like he had a choice.

Needless to say no one bothered me again.  The story I told my Nun was I fell and landed funny on my fingers when I asked if we could get some ice to stop the swelling.  Tommy didn't say anything about what happened, I guess the humiliation of having his ass whooped by a girl would have been too much for him.  Enough of that though, wow did that bring back some memories I hadn't intended on writing down...should they stay or should they go, I don't know.  I guess I'll see.

Other days it's High School Danielle, the yo-yo dieter.  I was up, I was down, I had jeans I wore when I  was heavy, I had my skinny jeans.  This was back in the day of Jordache, Gloria Vanderbilt and Sasson.  I'd leaf through 17 magazine and wish to look like those girls in their awesome outfits, flawless skin, perfect hair and smiles.  Here I am the day after my Sr. Prom at Jones Beach with some friends, this was a down weight time for me.

At least the name calling stopped though.  In high school it was a different kind of shunning you got, you watched as the skinny girls got asked out on dates, asked to prom, the ones the boys fell over themselves to get noticed by *sigh* never happened for me.  I'd have dates here and there when I lost weight, and I did manage to screw up the courage to ask a boy to both my proms, but for the most part I didn't have a boyfriend and dates were few and far between.

Or, I see the freshman me of my college days.  Which one is me in this lovely photo??

Oy vey, the freshman fifteen everyone is supposed to gain?  Try the freshman 40 for me.  Pizza, buffalo wings and beer.  Might work for some, definitely not for me, but something miraculous happened my sophomore year.  I blew my knee out yet again (no that's not the miraculous part.  I did that every year since I turned 14 duh) and I had to have surgery.  After I had my surgery I had to do physical therapy and work it out.  I did that all summer until I went back to college for my Junior year and people didn't recognize me I had dropped so much weight and gotten in such good shape.  I pretty much kept it that way by doing aerobics and laying off loads of the junk food.  When I met Brad my senior year, I was still a size 6.

He saw me the way I really looked.  He liked what he saw.  But I still didn't see what he saw.  I didn't see the person one of my college friends was referring to when she said to me, "Look at you Skinny Minny", the first time she saw me after my surgery summer.  I tried but I didn't.

Fast forward to the Triathlon me.  Ugh, the me having to wear spandex, the fear and discomfort I felt having to wear something that form fitting, and let's add insult to injury, I had to wear a bathing suit pretty much year round if I kept up with my swimming.

Bathing suits and me, a totally hate relationship, I can't even say love/hate, just hate.  Even when I was training for the IM, and was in pretty amazing shape I was told, all I saw was the pooch of my stomach or my back fat.

But how do I stop this?  I say to Brad all of the time, I want to see what you, and every one else sees.  I want to see how I really look, not the flaws.  Do all women do this to themselves??  Do we all treat ourselves so poorly?  What kind of example am I setting for my girls?  I try to be careful and not do it in front of them, but they know.

I frustrate the heck out of Brad with the way I criticize my image when ever I look at myself.  I find fault immediately.  I will say I look squishy, or soft.  I have been doing Crossfit with Brad since May I think it is and today as I looked at myself getting into the shower all I thought is, I see such change in Brad, me I see cellulite-y thighs, my poochy stomach and a muffin top.  I got in the shower with all the negatives, I was back in grade school again, that teasing ringing in my head.  Does this look squishy to you?

One time after my father died, I was looking in the mirror and I swore he was standing right behind me with his hand touching my shoulder.  He was smiling, and for a dazed split second I believe he stood with me.  When I did a double take, of course it was just me in the mirror.

There are times, far and few between where I'll catch a glimpse of myself and like what I see.

I think to myself, THIS is what Brad sees.  It reminds me of that day with my dad behind me.  I'll do a double take and that image is gone.  And like that day, I keep looking, wishing for that image to come back.....I still do.