I wore a bikini to the beach...

Ok, so two questions probably came to your mind when you read the title:

1. Why?
2. Why are you telling me about it?

I'll answer both of those for you (you probably have many more than that, but I'm not a mind reader).

I didn't wear a bikini to the beach because I look like a super model. I didn't wear a bikini to the beach because I have a perfect body. I didn't wear a bikini to the beach because I have super high self esteem and I didn't wear a bikini to the beach because I love every inch of my body. (I have never met a woman who does love every inch of her body, we all have a hang up or two.)

I wore a bikini to the beach because I wanted to prove to myself that I could (plus this pasty white tummy was just screaming for a little color). I'm insecure. I'm a girl, I think we are all born with at least a little insecurity bred into us, the media helps take care of the rest of our insecurities. I have stretch marks and cellulite. I have freckles and uneven skin tone. I have a belly, sagging skin and my thighs touch. I'm not photoshoped or air brushed... (I know, shocker!) Even the medical field adds to it, according to their BMI calculators, I'm currently over weight and have been obese most of my life.

But here's what the bikini doesn't show (or my BMI for that matter)... I can do 90 minutes of hot yoga without stopping. I can bike 14 miles at a 12 mile pace. I can jog a 5k. I can spend the day doing manual labor. I can keep up with my 3 year old (most days). I am fit, even if my body doesn't show it. 

Want to know what I learned from this experience? No one ran from me in sheer terror. No one pointed and giggled. No one stared and whispered. No one even gave me a double take. I'm not sure what I thought would happen, but it was ridiculously uneventful. Well, aside from the fact that I opted for no sunscreen because we had a canopy up and I got fried, on that pasty white tummy that I am sure has not see much of the light of day.

Now, on to why I am telling you about it. Well, because if I can do it you can do it... conquer your fear that is. Your fear may not be a bikini (and by the way, it was very tasteful suit, no tiny bikini's), but it can be conquered. I'm not saying that it has to be a huge fear that you conquer, start with the small ones. Then the big ones don't seem so unattainable.

I know I sound extremely superficial and/or narcissistic, but if you ask my hubby, you'll see what a real fear this was for me. No matter how confident I come across in person, I am a big ball of self doubt at home. I am working on just loving me.

I even remember the first time I felt heavy. It was Easter and I was about 7. My great-grandma gave me a cute, stuffed, yellow Easter bunny with fluffy white cheeks. She said that she got it for me because it reminded her of me, chubby. No, she meant that in the most loving way, but that's what sticks with a 7 year old girl. I'll have to find the picture of me from that year to share.

Let me know what fears you want to conquer... :)

to the moon and back,

I'm not a hugger

I'm not a hugger, never really have been. I don't think I got that gene. I read an article about the benefits of hugging and I thought to myself... "Meh... whatever..."

I think most people are born with an innate ability to appreciate hugs. Not me, I'm not touchy feely, just ask my husband, it drives him crazy. I feel like I should be a hugger. It would probably make things so much easier, especially since my hubby's love language is physical touch.

"What's this 'Love Language' you speak of?" Well, if you have to ask, then, apparently, you haven't read the "5 Love Languages". The basic idea is that everyone "speaks" a different language when showing their love. So if your love language is gifts and your spouse's is quiality time, it doesn't matter how many gifts you give him, he won't see it as love. It's like speaking English to someone who only speaks French. The 5 love languages are:

• Acts of Service
• Physical Touch
• Words of Affirmation
• Quality Time
• Gifts

My primary language is Acts of Service. Fifth on my list? Yep, you guessed it, Physical Touch. I don't know why I am that way, I just am. It's probably because I didn't come from a huggy family. Generally, if you got a hug, it was at a funeral or on a holiday. 

I have gotten better about receiving hugs, especially after having Moose, but I'm still definitely not a giver in that respect (except for with Moose). I think it's because I'm an awkward hugger. I'm not a good judge of when it's a good time to hug and what type of hug is appropriate. Should I go in for a full hug? A half hug? A half hug with a pat on the back? A hand shake hug? There are too many choices and quite frankly, I'm too indecisive for that mess.

If I do decide to go in for a hug, I end up switching the type of hug mid way and I sorta come across as creepy or grabby.

I am not above personal growth. So in an effort to teach myself how to be a hugger, I scoured the internet for tips. Here's what I found:

I think that's a good starting point. I like #6 the best. I think I can pull that one off.

Moral to the story, if I don't hug you, it doesn't mean that I don't love you, I'm just not a hugger. Just think you could be caught up in a super awkward half shake, kiss on the cheek, full on hug and no body wants that. However, if you hug me, I will hug you back or kick you in the shin, it's a toss up.

to the moon and back,

I am called to love...

I am called to love

I am not called to judge

There is no grey area

Your sin is no greater than mine

I am called to forgive

I am not called to hold harbor anger

You need the same forgiveness as I

You were given the same forgiveness as I

I am called to be satisfied

I am not called to be jealous

Material things are not lasting

Our rewards will come

I am called to accept

I am not called to condone

My heart is open all

But I am not here to enable

I am called to love the person

Regardless of race

Regardless of sex

Regardless of sin

I am called to be like Him

He who ate with tax collectors

He who did not judge the prostitute

He who died for all sinners

I strive to just love

These words have been swirling in my head the last few days.

to the moon and back,

Pasta-less Lasagna Recipe (sort of...)

Ok, I know I'm not the only one who loves Italian food but doesn't want the carbs from pasta. Soooo, I threw together a recipe using no pasta. I use the term "recipe" loosely because as anyone who knows me knows I never follow a recipe to the T and if I'm winging it, I don't write it down. It drives my husband crazy, because we never get the exact same meal twice.

Here's how I feel, though, food is a feeling, you just have to go with it. I find that I improvise a lot depending on 1. my mood and 2. what's in my pantry/fridge/freezer....

Anyway, I came home from work and I knew that if I didn't use the eggplant that I got the other day, then I'd be throwing it away. Jon has been asking for pizza lately, so I thought lasagna was a good compromise. This could also easily be a vegetarian meal if you omit the ground turkey.

So here it my best attempt at a recipe (this makes 4 generous servings could be 6 if served with a salad or something):

Pasta-less Lasagna

Sauce Mixture (throw it all in a skillet minus the sauce and cook until meat is cooked thoroughly, you may need to add a splash of olive oil for a little fat. Once the mixture is cooked, add the sauce and heat through.)
1/2 lb Ground Turkey
1/2 Medium Onion Chopped
4 oz (or 1/2 package) Sliced Mushrooms
1/2 Chopped Frozen Spinach (or 1 Cup Finely Chopped Fresh Spinach)
1/2 Chopped Broccoli Florets
1 Jar Classico Tomato Sauce
2 Cloves Minced Garlic
Salt & Pepper to taste

Cheese Mixture (while the above is cooking, mix all of the following ingredients together in a mixing bowl and set aside.
1 Cup Low-Fat Shredded Mozzarella (set aside about a 1/4 cup or so for the top of the lasagna)
1/2 Cup Part Skim Ricotta
2 Cloves Minced Garlic
1/2 Tbsp Basil (I used the stuff in the squeeze tube found in the produce section)
Mrs. Dash Tomato Basil Blend, Oregano, Salt & Pepper to taste

Pasta Replacement
1 Medium Eggplant Peeled and Sliced into Faux Lasagna Noodles (not too thick)

Preheat oven to 375. Take a baking dish (I used 9x9) and add a layer of the sauce mixture, then a layer of raw eggplant "noodles", then smear a layer of the cheese mixture on top of the eggplant then another layer of sauce. Repeat until you have either filled your pan or run out of ingredients. Top with a final layer of sauce and a layer of mozzarella cheese. Bake until cheese is nice and brown!

Ok, here's a secret, you don't want the eggplant sliced to thin because they will over-cook and be to mushy, but you downy want it sliced too thick because it won't get done. There's a fine line, but you do still want it to have a little bite so it mimics al dente pasta. It's also nice because this lasagna recipe doesn't get watery which is sometimes a problem with lasagna.

Enjoy and feel free to improvise! Live a little!!

to the moon and back,

Most Days I'm OK

Most days I am ok, lots of days I'm great, but some days my miscarriage still gets to me. I guess that's normal, it's only been a few months, but some people seem to move on so easily. Or at least on the surface they do, I guess I don't know their heart.

Anyway, some days it doesn't even cross my mind, and some days I think, I'd be almost 7 months now which means we would have definitely known what we were having. Some days, I wonder what it would be like.

Those days are fewer and farther between than the beginning, but on those days I beat myself up a little more. Was it the theraflu that I took when I was 4 weeks along because I felt like I was dying from the flu? Did I work out too much? Was I too unsure about it? Was it because I wasn't bonding with the baby or was I not bonding because God wouldn't let me?

I have gotten to where I really love babies, but on those few days, I don't want to talk about babies or baby things. I don't want to hear people complaining about their babies (even though on a normal day it's perfectly fine, moms need to vent).

I don't like having to answer the question "So, are you going to have any more?" by someone who doesn't know. I then feel some absurd need to explain to them how we had tried but I miscarried and now I need a little time. They don't need to know that and I'm sure it makes them feel bad.

Mostly, on those days, I feel bad for feeling bad. I get this little voice in the back of my head that says "Why are you even sad, there was no baby? No baby even developed." Now, I know that regardless of whether there was a baby or not, I was almost 10 weeks at the time and my body was pregnant, but on those days, Satan, gets a foothold and tries to pull me down.

I know that some of these thoughts are still hormonal changes, and to help with that I am doing some natural remedies (acupuncture and Chinese herbs) that I'll blog about later. I know that these are normal thoughts (or at least I think they are) and yet, that doesn't make me feel better at the time.

I'm feeling this way a little tonight, but it will pass. Like I have said before, this blog is more for my therapy, than it is for anything else.

Thanks for sticking around even when I'm gloomy! :)

to the moon and back,

Meh.

Ok, this may come as a shock to some of you, but I'm not a very passionate person. I greatly admire anyone who is, but me, meh...

It takes a lot of time and energy to be passionate and lately, I haven't had much of either, but that's besides the point, my attention span is much to small to be passionate.

I love people who are passionate and utterly and completely committed to a cause or way of life. Well, as long as it's positive, there are some pretty passionate hateful people out there. You know, like the KKKK, Ku Klux Klan for Kats, if you watch Glee you get it (not that I watch Glee much, but that part cracked me up and so did the line about Dolphins being gay sharks...). I just can't for the life of me understand how people can put sooooo much energy into hating someone or a group of someones. If I don't like someone, I'm like "meh..." and I move on. I have too much going on to focus on no liking them.

Anyway, I have a friend who is passionately against Monsanto and GMO's (I know that sounds negative, but if you read about GMO's at all, you'll see why it's a good thing and why you can't eat anything anymore).  Anyway, I look at her and I'm like, "I don't think I could ever be that passionate about anything." Not only is she passionate about it, she lives it. She's unwavering and I think that's awesome.

There have been occasions where I have been moderately passionate about a topic, but here's what happens, I get really excited, tell everyone about it, try to convince everyone how great (insert idea, product, supplement, TV show here) is and then I sort of forget about it. Then inevitably someone asks me, "Hey how's (whatever it was) going?" and I'm like, crap.... "Who are you, my accountability partner?" Well, not really, I wouldn't actually say that, but that's what I'm thinking because no matter how great whatever it was is, I eventually get to the point of "meh."

That's terrible, I know, but "meh." I can't even get passionate about not being passionate. :)

to the moon and back,

My thighs touch

Life gets heavy (as my cousin-in-law states in her blog) and I feel it's been extra heavy lately, so I am here to lighten it up a bit, at least metaphorically, because I'm talking about thick thighs and technically, that, too, would be heavy...

Last night, I had planned on writing this blog but switched topics when our dinner out was derailed by an oblivious mom. So, even though you were probably hoping I forgot, I am going to take on this highly controversial topic because I am a giver. Guys (if there are any guys who read this), you can stop reading here. You won't understand and it will probably make you uncomfortable.

And now... without further ado here's what I think about my thighs touching...

I hate it, but probably not for the reason that you think. I don't need that gap between my thighs that uber skinny girls get to validate my existence. (If you have the "gap", yay for you, I ain't hatin') Also, I'm not saying that I am fat (10 or 20 lbs heavier than I'd like to be, yes, but fat, no). (Note: this post is riddled with sarcasm, it's who I am, people!)

Reasons why I hate that my thighs touch:

1. It that means I can't actually wear running shorts to run. Why? Because A. my shorts creep up (yea, I know TMI, but you asked) and I'm constantly fighting a losing battle to keep them down and B. because running, with thighs that touch, with out some sort of chaffing cream or ointment (ugh, that word grosses me out) is super uncomfortable and jeopardizes future runs because of injury. So... it's yoga pants or running capri's for me.
2. I can't wear my running shorts when biking. Why? See the answer to #1. Believe it or not it happens while biking too.
3. I can't wear shorts any shorter than mid thigh, which is generally appropriate in most situations, however, when I go to the beach, shorter (not micro) shorts would be nice so I can get a little sun. Why can't I? See the answer to #1.
4. Summer dresses are uncomfortable. Why? See the answer to #1B. That means that pantyhose (nasty invention) or some sort of spanx are in order to prevent chaffing and then, really, what's the point? Summer dresses are supposed to be cool, and all of those undergarments kill that idea.
5. Corduroy pants are out of the question... Can we say "friction fire"? Ok, so there haven't been a lot of corduroy pants that I just couldn't live without, but I'd like the option in case I want to try to fit in with the preppy set of the 80's or the grunge crowd of the 90's.

That's all I can think of for now. I don't actually sit around all the time criticizing my thighs. All of the points above actually came about from a conversation with friends the other day. 

And finally, Taylor, this one's for you...

to the moon and back,