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When you love to eat, you've got to move.

Posts Tagged ‘body image’

What a difference 5 years makes!

Posted by pjcloud9 on October 21, 2010

Check and see how 100 lbs magically transferred from me to my son.  I lost it in one year.  Took him 5 to take it on in height and weight – wow!

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My hip (said in tone of the lady who has fallen and can’t get up)

Posted by pjcloud9 on October 21, 2010

Just ran the second half marathon of my life, precisely one year later.  Same race:  IMT Des Moines Marathon/Half-Marathon.  I don’t know what the hell I was thinking that a year later I could beat my time.  I mean last year, I was not working a full-time job and could train all the time.  This year, not so much, I basically have done a long run on the weekend all summer leading up to this, with my longest training run a couple of weeks ago of 12 miles.  So I came in at 2:02 versus LY of 1:59.  3 minutes, and yes I was disappointed.  I am pretty much over it now, sorta.  Looks like I am going to have to run another half-marathon now to prove I can finish in under 2 hours.  And that is just proving it to myself.  I really don’t care what all y’all think.  No offense.

So one of the issues I am experiencing is in my hip.  When someone says their hip hurts, doesn’t that sound like the great-granniest-gray-haired-90-year-old crap?  Seriously, it is as if I need a Medic-Alert necklace.  It is hurting pretty bad when walking and is going to take a while resting to recover.   My chiropractor said she thought I was limping.  UGH.  Will see if I can resist running through the week (weather is making it difficult, gorgeous autumn out there).  Has been a week or spin & swim so far.

If anyone has some ideas on recovery, stretches, etc. please let me know.  I am too young for a granny hip.

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Reunion

Posted by pjcloud9 on July 17, 2010

I recently attended my high school reunion back in the Iowa town that I lived in from ages 8 thru 18, smack dab in the decade of the Eighties.  The formative years; those ten years certainly were.  How can ten years of your life seem so relevant and so immaterial at the same time?  Relevant in that even the little decisions made, or not, back then have had a huge influence on who I am today.  Relevant in the fact that I rocked some big hair, neon, plaid, and innumerable other fashion statements along the way.  Immaterial in that I had not seen anyone at the reunion in ten years – if not twenty – and I seem to be doing OK with that.  Immaterial in that I had not even been back to that town since the last reunion ten years ago and all that I could tell had changed was the size of the trees on the main street as I drove into town.

Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I chose to go to the reunion.  I was excited about it, nervous driving there solo, hoping certain people would be there and other certain people would not.  I was feeling pretty confident and poised going in, having successfully ballooned to the fattest in my life conveniently in between the 10 and 20 year reunions.  And for this 20 year reunion, I was several sizes smaller then the 10 year and back to high school size.  Damn, could not have accomplished that more effectively if I had thought about it – that felt good.  Everyone is still the same age as one another – that won’t change.  Seems obvious, but this is a huge benefit to taking some competitive edge off the reunion gathering.  Time ain’t standing still for anyone!

I had fun catching up with as many people as I could, learning about where they are today in their lives.  The reunion event itself was pretty low key with about 1/4 of the classmates in attendance, the majority there with their spouse in tow.  The spouses were mostly drinking more then the classmates – understandably.  Feels now like a lot of hype leading up to the event.  All we really did was get as many classmates as possible in the same room back at the old Country Club.  We chatted, ate a creamy, carb loaded meal out of chafing dishes and drank a keg of beer and generic cocktails served by “boys” (they really looked young!) in golf caps.

I am back here as well, after a several month hiatus.  So this is a reunion of sorts for me with my blog, my voice.  In relation to the high school reunion, I have to say this one is much sweeter.  I have been putting a lot of things behind me day by day and finding inspiration from the new and the possibilities before me.  Being a future-focused person, the thoughts of what may unfold are far more exciting then holding on to the past.

Bye-bye Boone High – again – and everything in between.  Hello now.

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Cankles

Posted by pjcloud9 on July 29, 2009

Hey Urban Dictionary, usually I think you are pretty funny, true that.  Yeah, I am a follower of your “Urban Word of the Day” direct e-mail shenanigans.  Usually I LMAO.  Oftentimes I use the word you present in a sentence in conversation that very day.  Periodically, offending or pissing other people off.  I happily take the hit – for you (plus it’s fun).  But seriously, the way you chose to start off my week on Sunday was not appreciated.

My Inbox, Sunday morning:

Subject: Cankles: Urban Word of the Day

“The area in affected female legs where the calf meets the foot in an abrupt, nontapering terminus; medical cause: adipose tissue surrounding the soleus tendon, probably congenital, worsened by weight gain and improved in appearance only by boots. From the English “calf” meaning wide portion of the lower leg, and “ankle” meaning slender joint of leg with foot.

If I didn’t have cankles, I might be able to wear those Prada loafers with my capri pants.”

Cankles.  Cankles?  You had to go there, didn’t you?

Sure, I have used the related word thass.  Yes, right here on this very blog, as a part of the writing process, in an effort to try and release the body image issues that have haunted me my whole “big girl” life.   I look to unite others, especially us emotional women, around acceptance of who we are, what we can change and what we must accept.  This e-mail, this Sunday morning ambush, seemed to be a vicious reminder that if I don’t stand half of a chance in impacting my thass, then there is no way in hell that I will be able to affect the cankles.

Yes folks, the cankles have been with me my whole life.  Somehow, the combination of the Czech/Irish/Scottish DNA and I believe the environmental effects of hard farm & ranch living on my ancestors has made them all the more sturdy and tree trunk-like.  As a child, I was unaware that I was sporting cankles.  I knew I was a more sturdy girl in comparison to my fair sisters and friends, but I did not have an awareness of the ankle region at all.  I am thankful for that as I look back, being that today it is not uncommon for an 8 year old to discuss their need to diet at the dinner table.

I think the awareness hit in that junior high-ish, awkward time of life.  Oh, and it was the Eighties.  Mini skirts, cropped pants, tight rolling, anklet socks, ballet flats – much of the fashion of the Eighties did not allow to cover or enhance the appearance of my cankles.  What is a girl to do?  I was self-assured enough, and naive, to just go with it.  I did not hide.  I am proud of that.  Everyday in front of my full length mirror, I carefully smoothed, tightened, and arranged that day’s chosen outfit.  I practiced the best stance, the most flattering view of the cankles and hoped that I could pull it off at critical moments throughout the day.  I was masterful at minimizing them through a sort of special effects approach.  One of my favorites was just to make my hair bigger.

As mentioned in the “definition” of cankles above, the condition can be “worsened by weight gain”.  Word.  I have experienced that many a time in the past decade.  While I was working full time downtown, commuting from the ‘burbs, going to night school for my masters, the weight gain was upon me.  In those four years, the cankles (and other parts) ballooned.  I primarily went after masking it by wearing boot leg pants and super long skirts.  Heels helped as well to lessen the obvious appearance of straight from calf to ankle lines.

As you can see, I have become very strategic about cankle camouflage from a fashion perspective.  And even though I am in the best shape of my life right now, the cankles still rule me.  I do not wear skirts.  I do not wear shorts.  I am the girl who wears CAPRIS in triathlons!!!  (The longest pants I can swim in!)  I wear pants and jeans and keep the cankles to myself.  It is really not about me, I have simply decided it is best not to subject others to this unfortunate “adipose tissue surrounding the soleus tendon” that I have been given.  And I am OK with it, really, it is the “abrupt, nontapering terminus” I have been dealt in life.

And based on that rant, I will now get back to my body images issues and working on those bit by bit every day.  Join the club.

But really?  The definition of Cankles standalone, out of the blue, in a Sunday morning e-mail.  Of all the words, ouch – that hurt.

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