Looking Better=Feeling Worse

So it’s finally over. Talk about an anti-climax. You spend a whole year planning and worrying over every detail of a wedding and it is over in a flash. If there was ever a wedding to be proud of though, it would be my sister’s. Even the smallest details added to the overall feel and flair of the wedding. From specially colour coordinated place cards and menus, to a candy theme consistently running though the reception. My sister thought of everything and nothing was missed.

Jordana wanted nothing but an outdoor ceremony and when it started to rain the day of the wedding, we all started to get the jitters. It poured ALL DAY and we started getting ready for plan B….which would have been to have the ceremony in the reception hall and move all the tables out of the way and then back for dinner. It would have been messy and disorganized, but thankfully it stopped raining 25 minutes before the ceremony was due to start. Dad was filled with Pride as he walked my sister down the aisle and I held back tears while my sister and (now brother-in-law) said their vows. The ONLY issue was the officiant. Humanist officiants (who are willing to perform marriage ceremonies without religion) are rare and are especially hard to find in the Kawartha region.

To say the least, my sister settled for an old retired couple from the area that had given her attitude from the very beginning. So on the day of, it was no surprise to me that he gave me attitude as well. The only issue was that it was IN FRONT of 100 guests!!! Here we all were standing up at the front of the alter, waiting for my sister to walk down the aisle and I can see her, linked arms with my father, waiting for everyone to rise so she can start the march. I look at the officiant and he is lazily looking at the crowd saying NOTHING. People start to get ancy and look around and to each other to see what they should do. I look at the wedding party and everyone is starting to look panicked and unsure. I see my sister and my dad shuffling back and fourth, unsure if they should start to walk. I look to the bridesmaids and I ask quietly if I should give the cue and I get a curt nod telling me that SOMEONE SHOULD. So I say “Could everyone please rise for the Bride”. Immediately relieved, everyone stands and turns to receive her as she begins the walk with my Dad. The DICK HOLE of an officiant turns to me and announces loudly- “Hey! That was my line- do you wanna do my job as well?” I swear it echoed over everyone’s head. I am shocked, but angry enough to reply with “someone should!”

Luckily, my sister escaped the drama and her grand entrance took everyone’s eyes from my heated face. She was absolutely glowing! And thanks to her lovely makeup and hair person who made us perdy! (I tried to do my own hair, but that absolutely backfired and she saved the day- with hardly a minute to spare).

So the ceremony was beautiful- never mind the fact that the DICK HOLE had a slight lisp and never took his eyes off the paper in his hand and barked orders to the bridesmaids about taking Jordana’s flowers and straightening her train and signing the documents. I had every intention of kicking him out after the ceremony. NO WAY were we going to invite him to dinner or cocktails. But the man essentially ran from us the moment he was done. With barely a murmured thanks, he was gone and GOOD RIDDANCE. The worst situation after a wedding is to lose the marriage documents. Well the DICKHOLE, before leaving, had handed them off to who he THOUGHT was the mother of the bride, but turned out to be our cousin, who later handed me the documents, unsure why she got them. Thank god he didn’t hand them to a quirkier guest who might have kept them as a memento. Ha ha.

I originally had reservations about being maid of honour. Since my recent weight gain, I have avoided photos fervently. I knew that being in the wedding party would mean a formal wedding shoot and that is my biggest fear. I told myself I would avoid as many informal snapshots as possible, while smiling as true as possible in front of the professional photographer. Any photos I smiled for I asked- “please don’t put it on the internet- I don’t like being in photos.” Most people smiled and nodded, but every day I check facebook with apprehension waiting to see myself. I haven’t been disappointed.

When you see yourself in photos, it is a true slap in the face. Most people can’t TRULY see themselves when they look in the mirror. We see ourselves every day and weight gain can seem subtle. But in photos (which are mostly unforgiving anyway) you cannot escape the image by shifting or smiling….What you really look like to others is plastered there. If you ever lose weight and look back at the photos, you will feel humiliated because you let yourself be that way. If you don’t lose weight, you will still just hate seeing the photos because it will be a constant reminder of the way you wish you didn’t look on your sister’s wedding day. It can ruin a PERFECTLY GOOD DAY! So I chose NOT TO LOOK. So stop forcing me by tagging me in an awful shot or posting a particularly humiliating view of my dancing in shiny orange taffeta. My boyfriend can attest to the fact that I watch the screen and my face will drop and I won’t want to do much of anything for the rest of the day. There is no other mood killer, like seeing yourself look like a gorilla in what you thought was a pretty dress and hairstyle.

ALSO- Just a note to all those people who have NEVER had a weight problem- NEVER COMPLIMENT people on ‘looking better’ or ‘looking so good and healthy compared to before” after losing pounds. It is a backwards compliment. You are saying ‘you look better than you did when you were fat’ and it is just like bashing the boyfriend after the breakup- it’s dangerous because they can always come back!

Telling people they are making great progress is perfectly acceptable…but don’t place a judgment on it. Even at our heaviest, we still want to feel attractive and don’t want to be told we were living a lie after the fact. I have even been told “wow Jamie, you have lost so many sizes. You were big before, but now you are tiny!” …don’t say that. It makes us hate you….ha ha
There should be NO better or worse attached to weight….it is just a ‘different look’….no better…no worse. Health should be the only place where ‘better’ can be applied, but I will say that even at my heaviest, I was still strong, could still run and considered myself in better shape than most of my thin friends. My health is not the issue.

So just a heads up for those who think they are doing us a favour….you’re not. Anyway- I sound entirely too bitter for a post wedding blog. It is summer time and Canada Day! Let’s be patriotic and wear our red and whites. See you at the cottage!

Journal-Me-Author

I have been working on making some short stories. I think diving into a full novel is too ambitious for me right now. I might try them out by posting them to my blog. I am nervous because I already let Stu read one and in his words 'I don't get it' and he didn't seem to get my 'flow'. I like choppy. I write, I speak and I think choppy. I think my biggest problem is 'tense' - whether or not to write in the present, or the past and from what perspective. I figured I would acclimatize myself to writing in an 'authory' way- by turning events in my day into little journal/short story type entries. So here is my first one (note this is fiction, lightly based on personal experience):

I think I knew almost immediately that the child in the clinic was being molested by her father. Children have a way of telling you things without ever opening their mouths. I saw it in the way she slumped in the chair. The way she shied away from his touch. The way her hands lay limply at her sides and the way she chose to sit in the waiting room with strangers, rather than sit in the assessment room with her father and the dentist. Her eyes were brown and too big for her face and lacking in animation. She stared at a spot on the floor and did not move.

The final deciding factor was when I started to see desperation on her face and she began to squirm and l realized she needed to use the bathroom, but didn’t want to have to go into the office to ask her father to take her to the public restroom. I watched all of this from behind my desk where I am a receptionist for a dental office and thanked god that I am not a teacher. Teachers are obligated to ask questions and take action. I was merely an observer of human behavior.

Finally the girl caved and tapped on the door to the room where her father was meeting with the dentist and whispered something inaudible. It was followed by the man leading the child past my desk into the single woman’s washroom and closing the door behind them. Of course the bathroom visit took an excruciatingly long time, but that could have just been my imagination. Once the child returned to her seat and her father to the dental chair, I gathered my courage and asked her girl how old she was. She told me she was five and then asked me what that ‘thing’ was on my nose. I told her it was a nose ring, like an earring, but in your nose. Her eyes lit up a little bit when I asked her if her ears were pierced and she said she was waiting until she was six and could handle the pain.

I remembered thinking she could most definitely handle the pain. Little kids are resilient creatures, especially ones that go through trauma. They always seem older than their true ages. This kids’ eyes could have been the eyes of a 40 year old woman, and not just because they were too big for her face. She was a pretty little thing with a long ponytail. Dark olive skin and long lashes. Her father was speaking Arabic, but her English was reasonable. She was small for her age. Could have passed for a four year old, except for those eyes.

How do you ask a child if they are being abused? Maybe teachers don’t ask as often as they should. They are probably afraid if they ask and the answer is no- that it will get back to the parents and they will get an angry phone call. If I was a teacher, I would just tell myself little kids are moody and I would keep my gaze high and away from their eyes. That’s safest. Or you do one of those class lectures about sexual abuse, to not centre anyone out and invite them to come and speak to you privately if they have questions. That’s funny, you know they always tell children to reach out to people when they are bullied, hurt or abused. They have to tell kids that because they don’t do it. They are naturally secretive little people who value secrets above all else. So maybe they should be telling adults to reach out to kids more often.

So I talked to the kid for a little while. She has a brother who has diabetes. He is fifteen. She asked me a hundred questions about my job and my computer and how old I was. I told her I was 25 and let her play on my computer in Microsoft Paint while her dad was in with the dentist. She had never touched a computer before and it was shocking how fast she learned it. As an adult you don’t get things as fast. Your brain isn’t as ‘spongy’ as it is when you are five. I didn’t pry and I didn’t try to council information from her, but I was her friend for an hour while she was sitting beside me. I hope it was enough.

That's it. Not too exciting. Practice for taking a point of view and picking a tense. I am retelling a story from my past and need to consistently tell it like that. Man. I need to take a writing class. I had this teacher once tell me to stick to art when I told her I wanted to write books. I still remember it clearly. I was in grade 10 and waited until after class was over to show her a short story I had written for my boyfriend at the time. She tore it to pieces. I never gave it to him, but I still have never forgotten the characters or the story line. Oh well, I guess if you want to be good at something you need to practice. I just feel sorry for you poor people that need to read the build up. Ha. All for now...

Wave at the Heat Wave!

‘Record breaking heat wave’ was the headline for this morning’s newscast. I refuse to let myself complain because for as long as I can remember, May 2-4 was always rainy, cold, buggy and miserable.

This weekend was beautiful. Saturday and Sunday had overcast moments, but Monday was unreal. I am completely sunburned all over my body and loving it! As a surprise, my parents bought a brand new Yamaha Wave Runner for our family. It was an absolute blast. It runs fairly quiet and has enough power to tow us around the lake on tubes and anything else we can find. We attempted using a foam block and a blow up raft (but they both failed miserably).
On top of that, everyone bought fireworks and together we created a professional-grade display. It went on for a couple of minutes and was outstanding in a perfectly black sky, with no light pollution to stunt the show. Unfortunately there was no one on the lake to show it off to, except a couple of canoeists camping on an island, but I somehow think they weren’t overly appreciative of our late night antics.

We stayed up to the early morning, just the six of us around the bonfire, roasting giant marshmallows and listening to the radio while draining the car battery. These are the things you resort to when you only have propane power at the cottage. There was lots of food, a fully stocked bar and even some specialty tequila to spice up the evening…and the morning.
I finally started writing my book.

I only have four or five pages, but it’s a start. It is amazing when you finally start doing something you have been dreaming about doing, it sort of sucks the fun right out of it.

For my sisters wedding I am required to get a spray tan,....and in my experience: So for the nex four weeks it is tanning, eating right, teeth whitening and crunches....maybe. Until next time loyal blog readers....if there are any.

What a Beautiful Fever you Have...

The problem when you have a fever is that you look unusually healthy. There is a slight flush to your cheeks, your eyes go extra bright, and you skin has an uncommon luminescence (which is actually just a sheer coating of sweat all over your body). So try telling your new job that you are so ill, you have to leave for the second half of the afternoon, when they have already complimented your appearance. Yup, just my luck! Three days into the new job I am struck with the flue. Like a freight train running clear through my day. Fever, achy eyes and head, sore throat, chills, cough, nasal congestion. And I didn’t even read those off of a bottle of flu meds. So Monday through Wednesday, I fought through my delirium. Feverishly I greeted patients and answered phones, while having an out of body experience ha ha.

By the third day, when the cough turned ugly and doctors and patients were giving me the wary eye and using extra hand sanitizer, I realized I wasn’t doing anyone any favours by sticking around. So off to bed I went. And of course when you get up in the morning and you would give anything to be able to sleep for a couple more hours- when you get a half day to be sick FOR THE PURPOSE of sleeping, you can’t make yourself fall asleep. It took me until almost 9pm before finally drifting off to a fitful slumber. Last night instead of counting on my own internal clock to take me to dreamland, I relied on my good ole friend ‘Nyquil cold and flu’ and Tylenol Cold-Nighttime. I had no trouble falling asleep. The trouble was trying to stay awake to catch the end of Grey’s Anatomy.

This weekend I am picking up my bridesmaid dress. It needs to be altered to fall above the knee and needs to be taken in around the chest (yes, I know, of all the places to need a dress taken in, it should NEVER be there). I don’t really want to try it on. My fear is that I will step into it, hate the way it looks on me and then dread the day of the wedding. So my plan was to alter it based on my measurements and slip into that puppy day of, and never look in the mirror. Let me hold onto my illusions. Meanwhile, the stupid seamstress will probably want me in the dress to pin it. I will just squeeze my eyes shut. This is not my day. It is my sisters. Whether I love or despise the dress (which I won’t know until it is on me), is irrelevant, because NO person in the wedding party can go up to the bride and groom and say “ya, so about this dress? It’s not workin for me…so I am just gonna pull something from my trustee closet”.

Weddings are a LOT of work. Dress & decoration shopping, making the party favours & invitations, the money box, planning the shower/bachelorette, picking the menu, planning transportation & accommodation, making a speech… and that’s just ME! Imagine being a bride? I have decided that any wedding I have will be a backyard BBQ. I just don’t want all the hustle and bustle. And the EXPENSES! It makes me sweat just trying to total up all the costs. Flowers, DJ, food, open bar, attire, venue, gifts, accommodation…it is like a thermometer with ‘Bankruptcy’ being the big ball at the top. God I hope I never have a daughter. And if I do, I hope she is post modern and doesn’t believe in the concept of marriage. I will bleed it into her at an early age. “1 in 3 marriages in today’s society end in divorce, hunny. It is just a money making scheme institutionalized by the government to feed the economy..”

So May 24 is here soon. That means a long weekend saturated with sun, beer and entertainment. You can bet that I will be at the cottage soaking up the rays. Maybe do some fishing , hiking, obviously some spring cleaning, but I will NOT be swimming. Since it is only May, the water will be cold and this body Is NOT bathing suit ready. I think that the surface of the pontoon boat is as close as I’ll be getting to the water. Anyway, enjoy your long weekend and be safe!

Kicked down- Back Up for Now......

I got a new job.

I don't want to risk a description though and 'out' my job. It is sort of like being pregnant. You don't tell anyone until you have been there for at least 3 months. I am nervous. Nothing like being laid off and losing a job to shake your confidence in your abilities. I may have gotten this job too soon. I don't necessarily feel ready to put on a happy face and dive back in. My brain needs a rest and I guess a couple weeks just doesn't cut it. To be honest, I thought my interview skills were a little rusty. I had a couple awkward silences, but apparently they went unnoticed.

I may be able to get my car after all. As for all that self betterment I said I was going to do, nothing like a little bit of borderline depression to squash those ambitions. I have spent most of my time being unemployed inhaling empty calories and lying in bed, catching up on my reading.

So I have been attempting to come up with ideas for my sisters bachelorette/shower. So far I have margarita mix and a penis cake tin. I was going to go all out and go strippers, but I have been informed that women don't always like staring at other naked women. So....transvestite showgirls? Here is my long labour of love- my invitation graphic. I had to cut out each stripper individually...hat and cactus too. Took friggen forever.

My sister and her future husband are in Mexico right now....pre- honeymoon. A trip won from work for outstanding...something or other. So what does that mean for me? Puppysitting....ok, well not me, but Stuart. Right now he is sitting in their house, eating their food, using their vehicles and showers and god knows what else, all under the premise of 'dogsitting'. While I am sitting at home, mentally preparing myself for my first day of work tomorrow. Anyway, since being unemployed I don't have many amusing anecdotes to drop into my blog....aside from my last job deducting my office chair from my vacation pay for wear and tear. Yes, I know....ask me about it, amusing story(thus my facebook name- 'kicked when I am down' for the past two weeks).

So until I have something new to add about my life, I will keep this one short and sweet. Until next time, loyal blog readers...