Monday, December 12, 2011

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.-Albert Einstein

The hardest thing about breaking a pattern is breaking it.

I know, I know. That’s some deep, metaphysical shit.

Here’s the dilemma: The reason you are in a pattern is because you are doing things the only way you really know how. To break a pattern, you have to do something different, something outside of your comfort zone or maybe something you haven’t even thought. It is so hard to see outside of your world. It is really hard to do something you haven’t tried or yet conceived.

In doing a lot of in depth, soul searching, I have discovered my whole life is patterns.  I have amazing ideas and poor follow through. I fall in love (practically instantly) and ignore red flags for the sake of my perception of some cosmic connection. I get bored easily. I rely on others for my self-worth. I will put just about everyone and everything before myself. I park in the same place every day (OK…let’s be honest, this one is so I won’t lose my car. I can remember all the artists and titles of every song ever written, but I can’t find my fucking car on a daily basis). I workout daily at the same time, to the same music on the same machines. I still sleep on “my” side of a king size bed (granted I replaced a man with a large dog on the other side…so my options are limited). What things should I change to break my patterns?

That’s not a rhetorical question. I genuinely don’t know how to change. I know (or like to think I know) a lot about a lot. In fact, many people don’t even WANT to hear my opinion on things (I am as shocked as you are).Self improvement is NOT one of my strongest traits. Going through as many life changes as I am…I had better figure it out.

There is a theory in Psychology by Leon Festinger called Cognitive Dissonance. Cognitive Dissonance is a discomfort caused by holding conflicting ideas simultaneously. The theory of cognitive dissonance proposes that people have a motivational drive to reduce dissonance. They do this by changing their attitudes, beliefs, and actions (thanks Wiki for the description). My description is a little easier:  Change your thinking and your behavior will follow. I have deduced that conversely, if I change my behavior, my mind will follow. In others words, if I play the role of the girl who has her shit together, eventually my shit will come together. Make sense?

(Dear Mom and Dad…aren’t you glad you paid for college? That little nugget is worth about $17,000)

SO…that brings me to the next question: Where do I start? Should I switch to the other side of the bed? Should I say, “No” when everything in my mind, body and soul is screaming, “Yes”? Maybe change my workout routine to some Country music (OK…that’s NOT going to happen)? Go after things I wouldn’t have gone after before OR leave things alone that I would have regularly perused? AND…really…to whoever is good enough to read my verbal diarrhea thus far, I would love your input. Where to start?

I think in the mean time I will start with the George Costanzia Theory of Everything: Whatever I think I should do, I’m gonna do the opposite.

One last word to Jenn: Tippy-god damn-Toe!

Monday, November 7, 2011

“Run Like Hell” -- Pink Floyd

It’s time to get my head caught up to my body.

I was running on the treadmill the other day in a Holiday Inn in Meridian, MS. and realized I had spent my all my free time running. I haven’t even sat down to write in too long.

I am not really sure if I am running from something or running to it? Eight years in a relationship with someone who just used me. Twenty years trapped in a body that doesn’t feel right. Eighteen years raising babies when I was a baby myself. When can I stop running? Or maybe I just need a direction change?

DIRECTION CHANGE: I have a lot of Pink Floyd on my Droid. I love to work out to The Wall and Darkside of the Moon. I am not sure why. When you think of heavy cardio, psychedelic rock is not the first thing that comes to mind. In fact, when I was in high school, the only people I knew who listed to Pink Floyd were stoners who couldn’t get laid unless mind bending drugs were in play. I just didn’t get it. I love them now. I love Zeppelin, too. …just never got it in my younger years.

I guess my tastes have just changed. I wonder what that makes my future look like? I replaced Color Me Badd with Floyd, so, clearly, I am making better decisions. I know that my future comes with a new found joy of life and a continuing comfort in my body. Hopefully, that means I can find someone else who would like to come into my body ….minus the mind bending drugs. (Dear Mom: That was only a literal joke. I am still a virgin.) What scares me is how will I react to someone new? Will I run to or away from them? And…even worse than that…why am I even thinking about it?

I swore I would be single for awhile before I even STARTED to look for someone. That’s hard to say in a “couples” world.  It is good that I am out of a bad relationship, but where does that leave me? Maybe I’ll be like Forrest Gump when Jenny left him…and just take off running across the country.

It’s scary to approach life single. It’s a marathon and not knowing if anyone is going to be there waiting for you at the finish line is a daunting. In the mean time, I’ll keep training, keep running. Maybe I’ll look up one day and see someone there running next to me. In the mean time, is it too much to ask for a training partner?

I have to warn you though…I am pretty competitive J

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

The Big Three-Oh!

The changes are unstoppable and unavoidable. They just keep on coming. So far, this month I have:  had a child move out, got out of marriage limbo, had major surgery, changed offices, changed my hair color, started eating a completely new way, started a new workout routine, looking for a new place to live AND lost 27lbs. For those of you math challenged, that’s three pounds away from 30 lbs. lost.

This got me thinking about 30.The age of 30 was a big year of changes for me, too. It was the year I left Texas.  I left Friday’s and joined Safeco.  I moved in with my mom and moved out six month later into my very first home of my own (with Ty & Kyle, of course). I met my best friend, Jenn. I met my soon-to-be ex-husband. I went through a total transformation. I guess I shouldn’t ever be surprised by the amount of change I can handle.

I am just a little over a year from turning 40 but have decided to stick to 30. I have nothing against 40…but I am not there yet. I am starting over at 30 again. This makes total sense to me. 40 seems too old for major life changes. I haven’t even had a chance to get stuck in my ways!

What does 30 year old Kristin look like? Smokin’ hot, healthy body; cute, little house in a trendy neighborhood (goodbye Highlands Ranch HOA Gestapo); happy, healthy boys leading fulfilling lives (not living with me), fabulous career and Seth MacFarlane….OK…well, maybe not THE Seth MacFarlane, but a sexy, fun, Liberal, Atheist, movie/TV/music/book/trivia buff, with a strong sense of humor who actually gets my jokes without additional explanation. Wealthy and well hung are nice to haves, but not a requirement (actually …on second thought…wealthy is a nice to have, well hung is a requirement!)) I figure I can afford to take my time and be picky right now. I have promised myself (and Jenn and my Mom)  I won’t start my search for Mr. Perfect until I am at goal weight. I figure I can’t expect my version of the perfect guy until I am my version of my perfect self. I owe Seth MacFarlane that much.

In the mean time, I will “roll with the changes” as REO Speedwagon so eloquently put it (BTW…I am pretty sure this is the first documented time “REO Speedwagon” and “Eloquently” have been used in the same sentence.) I will embrace all the good things that are happening and turn the bad into a learning experience.

The one thing that has been constant through all of this is my amazing friends and family. I am so blessed (and you know I *NEVER* use that word) to be surrounded by friends, family, co-workers, FB friends and on and on. You guys are what make change tolerable. You are the ones who give me strength and keep me smiling.

I hope you all plan to join me in Vegas January 2013 to celebrate my 40th 30th birthday! Until then….roll with the changes!

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

What a Difference a Day Makes!

I woke up today determined to make the choice to be happy…no, THRILLED…about my current situation. I reread my last blog entry and got really pissed at myself. What a fucking cry baby I am! I should be celebrating right now, not lamenting the loss of KFC, Ben and Jerry and Dr. Pepper. I look around me and see so many things to be overjoyed about. I have been very lucky in my life. I am ashamed that the thought of not being able to binge on wings and fries would get me down. I am better than that!

I decided to list the things I am grateful for….and I just had to add some things that annoy me because this all can’t be whimsical.

Things I am Grateful for (in no particular order):
  • Grooveshark
  • The dog park
  • My boobs (I hope I get to keep them!)
  • Target
  • Whey Protein
  • My new car
  • Mommy
  • My beautiful home with kick ass party decks (oh yeah…I have two!)
  • My Boys (please see this under things that annoy me, too)
  • Droid
  • Seattle
  • Fantasy Football (specifically, my QB Aaron Rodgers)
  • My friends and family
  • Sugar free popsicles
  • Bath and Body Works
  • Jimi Hendrix
  • Seth MacFarlane (will he ever know how much I love him?)
  • Pedicures
  • Jenn (these are in order…because I know that bitch’s feet need some attention, too!)
  • Scented candles (anyone who’s been to my house knows this is an addiction)
  • George St. Pierre

Things That Annoy Me (in no particular order)

  • People who use "literally" incorrectly. That, literally, makes me want to stick my pen in my eyeball
  • Any modern pop singer
  • Not trusting a fart
  • People who don’t know how to use the self check-out
  • Teenagers
  • People who use quotes “incorrectly”
  • My Boys
  • People who stop in a merge lane. Fucking MERGE already!!!
  • Texting and driving
  • “Plus size” Halloween costumes
  • People who drop in to see me, but are really only there because the bathroom outside my office is closed for cleaning and they are just really waiting to pee. You don’t fool me. 

I am sure there is more but I really wanted to focus on the positive of the day. I am down 22lbs. I think that number made it all worth it. Now…I can’t WAIT to get make into my full workout routine! I will see that number drop more AND I will fell stronger, sexier and more confident

If I could only trust a fart….life would be perfect.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Sucks and the City

One week down, a lifetime to go.

At this time last Tuesday I was waking up in the recovery room with a bad ass high and the feeling that I had just been shanked. Today, the bad ass high is gone but the feeling I have been shanked (physically and emotionally) is still here.

I don’t think I was fully prepared for the next steps. I was so focused on my ultimate result that I never considered the transition phase; the actual hard work that comes with this level of transformation. I feel depressed and lethargic. I don’t know if it’s the lack of calories, lack of social interaction or just plain, old detox that I am going through, but it sucks!

And speaking of sucks…everything I take in has to, theoretically, be able to pass through a straw. Yup, two weeks of liquid proteins only.  Now, usually the thought of sucking liquid protein  would appeal to me, but for two weeks straight? Ugh! I have actually considered what a blended Whopper would taste like. So far, I have decided against the pureed burger approach, but by next week I may change my mind. My dietician recommended pureeing meat with a broth or low fat gravy. Are you fucking kidding me? That skinny bitch actually suggested this. Mmmmmm…prime rib au jus frappachino!

So…between my Beef Carpaccio slushies, emotional crying jags, lack of sex (sorry, Mom but it’s true) and general bitchiness…I have to ask myself: Is this all worth it? This is not me! I am happy and joyful and positive. Oh Shit! What if this is the person I am becoming? What if I am a total negative asshole? Would I rather be fat and happy or a thin asshole? I desperately hope this doesn’t last.

I am waiting for happy to happen. Is happiness a goal weight or size? Is it wearing 6’’ Christian Louboutins? Is it competing in another triathlon or completing a 14neer? Or maybe it is just the choice I make every day to do better for myself. Damn it! Happiness is not passive. It is something I have to focus on and choose each day. As lost, alone, sad, hungry, deprived and down as I feel, I have to choose to snap out of it! I have to push through as part of the overall transformation.

Or…maybe I just need a hard, long, think tube of liquid protein. 

Monday, September 26, 2011

“Breaking up is hard to do” - Neil Sedaka

I know this is a very public, perhaps embarrassing, way to tell you this, but it’s time.

I know what we have is amazing. I have loved you my whole life! Nothing makes me feel like you do. You have some sort of spell over me. I think about you all the time. You come to me in my dreams. You invade my soul and take over my body. Just the anticipation of feeling you inside of me makes me giddy. Your smell, the way you make me feel, the rush of ecstasy you give me are all intoxicating. I fantasize about a secret redavouz with you. No one has to know. You sneak into my bedroom and seduce me. When you come to me I am covered from head to toe in a rapture of passion that is cosmic. I am completely, wholly and uncontrollably addicted to you. I will always love you with everything I am. BUT…you are so bad for me

I have to end it. I know this is going to hurt me so much more than it hurts you. You have so many other women. What am I to you but just one other notch on your bedpost? You have used me up, hurt me and changed me into someone I don’t like or even recognize. I am weak around you. I make horrible choices around you. I lose the strong, beautiful, wise woman I am constantly striving to become. I give in to anything you want. So, I am walking away from you. You probably won’t even notice I am gone. You don’t give a shit. WE ARE OVER!

In 24 hours, I will be taking the first steps to say goodbye to you forever. I am reclaiming my body from you! I will be thinner, stronger and more confident. I refuse to let you take me over ever again! I will find others...others who are better for me. They will treat my body right. Better yet, they will treat me right. I will be healthier for having them. Soon…I won’t crave you anymore. I will find satisfaction and fulfillment with ones who truly love me.

So, Chunky Monkey, Cherry Garcia, Chubby Hubby and all your friends….peddle your wears elsewhere because we are through!

Friday, September 23, 2011


I took a different route to work today due to emergency responder exercises going on in the middle of my commute. I guess they have their reasons for choosing the Park Meadows “shopping resort” (their words, not mine) for these drills. I mean, if terrorists what to attack Abercrombie & Fitch, who am I to argue with Allah? What’s the worst thing that could happen? A&F is destroyed.  Now, I can walk through the south end of the mall without my sense of smell being bombarded and possibly permanently damaged by the smell of shitty cologne and sweaty balls wafting from the store. Ultimately, those guys (and gals) are hard at work protecting our high end malls and I had to take a detour.

My live has taken many detours. I believe those different routes are the reason I am who I am today: good, bad and ugly. I think about decisions I regret and wonder what they really mean. Why should I regret anything if those choices got me where I am today?

An obvious detour would be my teenage pregnancy. How would my life be different without having a baby at 19? Would I have gotten married? Would I have had my second child by 21? How about the rather spontaneous choice to leave Boise? I regret that choice everyday of my life. But I could never regret my amazing boys. Why do some decisions that seem so benign (getting drunk and hooking up at a party at 19 years old) lead to such a dramatic life change? Why are other changes that seem so right at the time (moving to Texas from Idaho) lead to daily regrets? I guess we can never truly know where our detours will take us.

So…I have made a MAJOR life decision. As of Tuesday, there is no going back. I can’t turn around on this detour. Where will this road take me? I have to say, this is the scariest part. I am not afraid of anesthesia. I am not afraid of pain. I am not afraid of recovery or my post-op diet. I am afraid of not knowing what’s ahead. This seems like a great change…..but can we really, really ever know if the new route is better than the old?

It seems fitting to me that my surgery will fall on the Equinox as it arrives in Denver (September 27th). I really am at a crossroads. I choose (by random fate) the day the night is exactly equal to daylight. I am a complete skeptic but part of me believes that day is a good day to take a major detour.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

“You are gonna be so HOT!”…..

……and other compliments that aren’t really compliments at all.

OK, I get it! Fat is not HOT. There are no fat chicks gracing the cover of Playboy, Maxim or any other men’s magazine I read for the articles or the occasional devastating blow to my self esteem. There are no chubby girls in videos, print ads, on the runway….Hell…even the Lane Bryant models are a size 12 at their heaviest…..which brings me to a quick digression….

WhyTF! Do I have to be relegated to a totally separate department on a totally different floor when trying to shop for clothes? For those of you who don’t know what I am talking about: Fat girls are not allowed to shop with the skinny girls. In ANY department store the “plus” size section in usually upstairs, in the back of the store, near the shitty rest rooms and customer service. There is usually an elevator near because the escalator is just too much physical exertion for us lards. Nordstrom’s is good enough to have a snack bar up there for us in case that elevator ride depleted our biscotti reserves. No one else I know has to shop in the back of the store like us fat people. Even the men’s “Big and Tall” is in the same men’s department as the other dudes. I guess the only group of people that can understand this phenomenon are men who dress in drag. But, they have an entire department store dedicated to them in Patricia Fields (the Queens are gonna love that joke).
OK…so back to my original point. Why do people say to be, “Oh, after this surgery, you are going to be so (insert compliment here)”?  For me this isn’t about being hot or sexy or pretty or thin….it’s about fitting into my body. You see, I am TransPhysique.

Yes, my friends, I am out of the closet. I am a skinny girl trapped in a fat girl’s body.  Some of you may be thinking, “Doesn’t everybody what to be thin? Isn’t fat a choice? You said it yourself, Kristin, ‘Fat is a choice!’” Ummm…actually I said MY choices made me fat, not “Fat is a choice”, so stop misquoting me. Now, I am exercising my choice to escape this body that doesn’t fit.

This is a HUGE lifestyle change. Not only will by mental view and physical body change, but so will society’s perception of me. How will I be received? What if I don’t feel comfortable in my “new” body? What if I just don’t look right like Star Jones? What if my head is too big for my body (HEAD! PANTS! NOW!)? There is so much to process. Sometimes it’s hard to get your head around it. This change is happening in less that a week. I will start a new path. I am nervous, scared, excited and ready to see where it leads…..
But to end where I started: “Compliments that aren’t really compliments”. I have to leave you with an actual conversation:

Co-worker #1: I hope when you get thin you don’t turn into a bitch!

Co-worker #2: She’s already a bitch…but I mean that in a good way.

Co-worker #1 Yeah, but don’t be a *skinny* bitch!

Me: I totally get what you mean.

And I did.

Monday, September 19, 2011

The Gospel According to Lyle

My Mom was one chastised by a friend of hers for doing me the great disservice of not “raising me up with God”.  Her response was I would be able to choose when I was an adult. So, I thought about her philosophy of life, how she raised me and if not knowing “God” was really a hindrance in my life.

She told me to love and care about people. She taught me people are people, despite age, race, sexual orientation, etc.. She is the most empathetic person I know. She can read just about anyone and know their character. She also has an uncanny ability to call me just when I am about the break down, often telling me she, “just had a feeling” she needed to call. She showed me how to take care of my own children, home and pets. I watched her grow-up with me. I watched her stay strong through the worst circumstances. I’ve watched her inspire greatness in other people. I have always been in awe.

I remember she used to come out and play with all the kids in the neighborhood. She once caught a garter snake and held it for all of us to touch. She is the bravest woman EVER! In the third grade, the class bully (Amber) made me cry. She told me if Amber didn’t want to be my friend, it was her loss, which made sense to me because I had the Barbie Townhouse with working elevator. Who wouldn’t want to be my friend with assets like that in my room?! I was afraid of monsters in my closest. She calmly explained that Grover was a monster, so how bad could monsters be? She never missed an AWFUL band or choir concert and was secretly relived when I pursued sports (something I was actually good at) instead of singing or playing an instrument. She never missed a softball game. Her whistled could be heard for miles! She was there through my first broken heart and told me if he didn’t want to be with me, it was his loss. I still had the Barbie Townhouse, but didn’t think that would persuade him. She was right though, it was his loss!

I think she is disappointed I don’t believe in a higher power. But…the thing is: I do! I believe in her and everything she taught me. She has been my rock, my strength, my greatest cheerleader, my most constructive critic and ALWAYS there. …for real.… the flesh. So, no, I don’t believe in a fictional “God”. I believe in people. I believe in her. That doesn’t take any faith at all.

I know she is scared for me. In a week I will be going under for surgery. That’s scary for a Mom. But, please, DON’T pray for me! Send thoughts to Lyle. She needs them more than me J

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Training vs. Coaching

I had to speak to a group of people this week about Training (learning a whole new skill) vs. Coaching (reinforcing known skills or behaviors) . I also had my final nutrition class prior to surgery. Now, I understand these things are totally unreleased. Well, at least, at first glance they seem unrelated. However, after a glass of red wine, a hot bath and double dose of my muscle relaxers last night, things became a little clearer to me. People who know me well will totally get how drugs and alcohol can make me MORE coherent.

Part of my “lifestyle change” is asking myself, “Why am I fat?”  and giving myself an honest answer. I mean, I could argue passionately about genetics (I *AM* the daughter of a huge football player/coach) or environment (I have to feed two, huge, growing teenage boys, so I cook for us all) or really any other excuse (I had two pregnancies in a row that fucked up my hormones, thyroid, prostate, whatever…) What I learned last night is it is ALL choice.

As our lovely, skinny-bitch Dietician began to explain to me that high fructose corn syrup is really added sugar (no shit) and that complex carbs are better than simple carbs (REA-he-LLY?! (sic)) I thought, “But I *LIKE* simple carbs and corn syrup”.
My epiphany was just this simple: While I have not actively chosen to be fat, my choices had made me fat. I mean, unlike being gay, fat is NOT a choice (had to throw that out there for my HUGE Tea Party and Evangelical following).

This brings me back to the class I was teaching. I listened to the class complain about their employees are just not as nice as they could be and we should have some training around that issue. I don’t think I can train someone to smile or be nice. I assume their mother taught them that.  So, they KNOW how to smile. They know HOW to be polite. They are just not doing it and all of the training in the world will not solve that. They are CHOOSING their behavior. Just like me.

 I was rolling my eyes at this beautiful, ditsy, thin, Dietician and thinking, “I’m not a fucking idiot! I know HOW to read labels. I know HOW to calculate my MHR and what the difference between anaerobic and aerobic is. I am a MENSA member, damn it Why the HELL am I sitting in this class!”

So….I *AM* smart. I do know how to eat, how to exercise, what the capital of Iceland is and how to solve for X.  I guess I don’t need training. I need a behavior change. I need coaching. And more than that…I need to stop fucking complaining and making up excuses and just do what I know how to do!

13 days and counting, my friends! September 27th is quickly approaching!

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Last Supper

After three years of fighting insurance companies and finally giving up, I am doing it. I am getting "banded" as people in the know call it. Yes, lap-band surgery. The surgery I only thought weak, morbidly obese people get. I guess it never occurred to me that I could be one of those people. I am excited, nervous, scared and wondering what this could mean for the second half of my life. It's a pretty major change like getting married, divorced or changing gynecologists. I have had the same person looking at my vagina for eight years...but I digress.

My surgery date is September 27th. The anticipation is like that of a first date with a guy you really like. You are balancing the same fears of, "Will he like me?" "Will I like him?" "Will I get laid when this is over?" Clearly, that is the real goal of this surgery. I want to look good naked. Hopefully, that's a reasonable request!

I went to Texas de Brazil for my "Last Supper". I gorged on various meat and pork products to the point of illness. Damn it! I love food! Am I ready to give up the occasional buffet of overindulgence for my looks? And don't give me that bullshit about my health. I have been obese (I hate that word...but it's true) for 18 years. I have not had one, single health issue due to my weight. I am doing this for the looks and that's it. Is that an OK reason? starts my journey. A fat girl's quest to be born again as a skinny girl!