So for quite a long time a few friends have lovingly referred to me as “skinny bitch”. Its all good. No offense taken. Im not anywhere close to being easily offended. I am built like my Dad’s mother. Small and petite. Genes. I am 5’1” and I do not own a scale but when I go to the doctor I usually weigh 104. It goes up and down by a few pounds depending on what workout Im doing. What many people don’t know is that I suffered for 20 years with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Horrific stomach problems that would leave me house bound for weeks. I never ate out for fear of being sick. There was a time for years when every single piece of food I put in my mouth immediately went through me. Pleasant I know! I got down to 90 pounds and had to have IV’s to replenish fluids. I had 5 colonoscopies (all clear). I tried many MANY different medications. I LIVED on Immodium AD. And I only ate in the comfort of my house. It was MISERABLE. And a tad irritating when people would say “man I wish I had that problem”. No you do not! Trust me.
I never knew until my tummy settled and I can now eat pretty much whatever I want that a person could feel so good. Its called hydration. I have been dehydrated most of my life. Shakeology saved my tummy and Im now good and blah blah blah. Not really what this blog is about…..its about me being a skinny bitch. And my core.
As every single woman on Earth does I look in the mirror sometimes and see what still needs to be fixed. What “problem areas” I need to work on. I am very VERY happy with the way I feel and look at 43. I had two babies, gained 42 pounds with each of them (remember Im 5’1”) and one of those monsters weighed 9 pounds! Yep- I had a 9 pound baby. It did a number on my lower abdominal area. Most women have an issue here. I absolutely LOVE working my core. I believe that a strong core is absolutely a must and vital to being an athlete and having good balance, preventing injury, improving posture, keeping your back healthy, supporting your skeletal system and…it looks pretty good in a swimsuit.
I love the word “core”. It embodies whats CENTRAL to your being. Its not just a physical part of your body but a metaphor for life. You need to be healthy at your CORE and the rest radiates OUT from within. So Ive had a few people “jokingly” (at least I hope they were joking) tease that they “hate me for being skinny” or ask “how the heck are your abs so great”. Its funny to me because I don’t think they are perfect. I barely have a 2 pack let alone “ripped abs”. But I like my core. I like my abs, I like my strength. I like the balance I have at this age. I like the flexibility and the strength that radiates out from my core. Metaphorically and physically. But I want everyone to know something. My absolutely favorite thing about my abs is my shiny stretch marks. They are faint but visible. I see them everyday. My stomach stretched to unbelievable depths to carry a 9 pound kid. Not only that but I had many miscarriages before I had my 2 kids. Late term miscarriages. One of them was in the 19th week! My core has been through a LOT but the shit it went through ended up producing 2 amazing people. I am working towards a 6 pack. I may not get there but I wont stop trying. But even if I got fitness model ripped- nothing…and I mean NOTHING will ever make me as proud of my core as those shiny gray silvery stretch marks! They are PERFECT!
Its late at night (Thursday) and Im sitting on my couch. I was supposed to catch a very early flight Friday morning to go to Lynda’s funeral in Dallas. (My second mom). The snow has been relentless, the roads are terrible. I live an hour from the airport at 7,600 foot elevation and the danger of getting to the airport by 5:30 in the morning led me to cancel my flight. VERY reluctantly. I’ve cried all afternoon. I want to be home and I can’t. That tough girl that picked up & moved away from home to tackle brain rot and life alone aint’ so tough this week. The weather cannot be helped but the guilt I feel is pretty palpable. If I’d never moved away…..
I think we are born with a perfect heart. Ive said this before. A perfectly intact beautiful heart full of love and with no damage. And as boys break them and loved ones pass away and friends disappoint us and we see the ugly side of people and we realize that bad things happen…it breaks a little each time. Mine has taken some hits the past few years. Its a bit tattered, worn, broken and hurting. And 95% of the time my spitfire personality and thick skin keep me going. Smiling. Working. Being happy. But sometimes you get knocked down one too many times and you might be a little slower to get up. As I was crying I realized I hadn’t cried since Lynda died. And I thought…what a stupid thing to cry about- the weather! But it isn’t the weather at all. That was just the final straw that knocked me to the floor. Like bricks. Lynda lived a GRAND life. She was the kindest person I’d ever known. The trajectory of my life changed because I listened to her advice.
So as I told her daughter today, the grief and the sadness is not FOR her. She is at peace and out of pain. Thank God. The sadness is purely selfish. Its because we are left here without her. To miss her. Another void in my life. Another little rip at an already damaged heart. So as always Ive been hard on myself…I should suck it up, be tough, many have it much worse. I know that. Its my motto. But damn it once in a blue moon even the toughest of us hit the floor. So today was a REST day in my current workout program. Thank God. And I needed it. Physically, mentally. So I LET myself cry and feel sorry for myself and curse brain rot and death and cancer and snow and just sit in it. Sit in all the shit. Literally. And maybe I should let the world know I may not be made of glass but Im not made of steel either. All hearts get to a point where enough is enough. So I get to have a time out from life. A brief respite. Going AWOL. And sooner than later Ill stand right back up and grab my courage and dust myself off and conquer the world. But today. I am sad.
It had been MANY years since I’d heard this song. I remember I was 30 years old when this song came out and “my early 40’s” seemed a million miles away and the thought of “Rocky Mountain Climbing” had NEVER entered my brain. So tonight- listening to this song I couldn’t breathe. Every. Single. Word. is my life. And thank you so very much Lynda for teaching me to live like I was dying. Because we all are you know. And even by the end of writing this…thinking of you…I smile. Smiling through tears is one of my favorites. And I know you’d say I don’t need to be there. And I know that. I will see you on a mountain Lynda.
Now…Im going to find a bull named Fu Man Chu. You should too.