The Year of the Phoenix

The end is near. Or the beginning. Depends on your viewpoint, I suppose.

Tuesday starts the month of November. (Can we all just take a minute to collectively say “What the fuck?!? Where did the year go? Did I accidently discover warp drive on my minivan and wind up in the future somehow?………..Ok, now we can ignore that outburst and resume discussion.) Coincidentally, it also starts my 30-day NO GRAIN OR SUGAR CHALLENGE which somehow sounded like a good idea a few months back but now seems insane. I’m doing it as a way to kick-start weight loss, but I seem to have forgotten that I have no willpower and November marks the official start of baked goods season. Also, pumpkin spice lattes are back at Starbucks. Yeah, I’m really dumb for trying this.

But if I can actually stick with it and avoid the crap during this feasting-intensive month, my hope is that I can actually end the month 10 lbs lighter, which is a pretty lofty goal, but it would go a long way toward my self-esteem building. I reallyreallyreally want to be thin again. Well, not thin, I’ve never been called thin, but in good shape. There was a time when guys checked me out in stores and I could wear nice jeans and shirts that couldn’t double as beach towels in a pinch. I want that time back. Ok, the getting checked out thing will probably never happen again, since I now tote two kids around everywhere, and amazingly, me holding a baby doesn’t grab the same level of male attention that my husband gets from women when he holds the baby. Weird.

Anyways, yeah, no sugar. Which means no coke. I am massively addicted to coke. A-cola, that is. Not the other stuff. If I was addicted to that coke, I (A.) wouldn’t be admitting it here, and (B.) probably wouldn’t need to lose weight. And it’s the only source of caffeine I have, because I don’t drink coffee unless it has so much cream and sugar that it actually affects it n a molecular level. So this is going to be a loooong month. Oh, and today also marks the return of Aunt Flow, 7 months post-partum. The bitch is back with a vengence, too. The cramps, fatigue, and the chocolate cravings are pretty intense. All in the start of my no-sugar-grains-coke month. So basically, I’m being set up for failure on all sides. It’s like some kind of cruel joke.

So what am I gonna do about it? I’m gonna go for it. I’m gonna stick with it too, because dammit, I am so tired of being fat. I’m also going to eat a metric shit-ton of candy on Halloween night. You know, last dance with Mary-Jane, and all that. Which is another drug I don’t do, btw. I actually don’t do any drugs at all. Not even legal drugs like Tylenol or crystal meth. Hand to God. I’m an alcoholic.

Hi.

Hi. I’m Mara. Well, actually, that’s not my real name, but I’m calling myself Mara here. Mara means “bitter” in Hebrew, which just feels appropriate for this time in my life. You’ll soon see why.

So, yeah. I’ve started a blog. This was probably a bad idea. Scratch that, this is DEFINITELY a bad idea. I mean, I’m a housewife and mom. And this blog has nothing to do with baking cookies or breastfeeding or which eco-friendly cleaning product will get that mildew out of your shower. I have an art degree, but I so rarely get to paint or draw that I might as well have gotten a degree in business or criminal justice or waste treatment facility management. Actually, that last one would probably have been more useful; at least I could have told you what to do about that mildew problem. Plus it would have better prepared me for having kids.

Also, as you’ll probably see demonstrated, I’m no writer. I never even kept a diary as a teenager. I mean, I had one, but I think I wrote maybe five entries total, all of them about how much I hated living with my parents. Which is pretty much what I plan to write about here. So this isn’t likely to be very interesting. Which is why you shouldn’t read it. I’m really just doing this for myself, as a personal challenge. I’m not sure if I’ll even stick with it. I’m a serial procrastinator and I have two small kids, so time to write is scarce. Plus, you know, that procrastination thing. Also, I’m lazy. Deal with it.

Why am I starting a blog? To (hopefully) help myself chronicle my (hopefully) successes and (probably) failures as I take the next year and try to turn some things around. I have a list of goals for the next year, and I am really dedicated to trying to meet them, at least for the moment as I sit on the couch and mentally berate myself for that double-cheeseburger lunch I had today. One of my goals is to lose 50 lbs, you see. Which is why I had cheeseburgers. I’m a master in the art of self-sabotage. It’s one of my better qualities.

Why “The Year of the Phoenix”? Because this is all about completely re-vamping my life, which means a lot of my past shit is gonna have to be left behind. Rising from the ashes, so to speak. In a year. Obvious symbolism. Cheesy? Probably, but if you don’t like it, oh well. You were warned.

I’m also incredibly sarcastic. In my family, sarcasm was not only an art, it was a necessary defense mechanism. So was profanity. So if you’re offended by reading words like “fuck”, “asshat”, and “cock-knocker”, then I suggest you leave. Now. Because it’s only going to get worse from here.

Also, this month marked a huge milestone in my relationship with my parents. As in, I stopped speaking to them altogether. I’ll explain in later posts why that’s such a huge milestone. For those of you with normal families who can’t possibly fathom shutting off communication with your parents…well, honestly, I envy you. I really do. And you should probably not read any more. It’s just depressing, really. Go enjoy time with your nice, loving family. Give your parents a hug from me.

So, as you can see, I’m kind of a hot mess. But I’m trying to change that. Hence this blog. I think I already said that. See? I have so little to say that I’m repeating myself in the first post. This was a really, really, REALLY bad idea.

Oh, yeah, my goals that I will be working to meet this next year.

1. Stop taking so much shit from people. Seriously, I am the world’s biggest doormat. I really need to get comfortable expressing myself and stop living and dying by other people’s opinions of me. I think it’s called self-esteem. I need some.

2. Deal with my past and change the relationship dynamic between myself and my parents.

3. In doing #2 (heh heh…#2), I want to become a better parent to my own kids. I grew up in an environment full of rage, emotional instability, verbal and mental abuse and manipulation. I. WILL. NOT. PASS THIS ON TO MY KIDS. No way in hell. Except I already kind of have. I yell and swear and scream far more than I should. I really want to get my temper under control so my kids don’t have to carry the same baggage I am now saddled with.

4. Lose weight. The ever-present resolution, right? But this isn’t about meeting some societal standard of unattainable perfection. I actually need to lose 50-60 lbs to be healthy. I’m 5’6”, 230 lbs, and a size 18 right now. My goal is 175-180 and a size 14, which is actually a very healthy weight for me, despite how high those numbers seem. I don’t want to be a supermodel. I just want to be able to walk without my knees aching.

5. Start a business, and make some money. I just recently got into screen-printing. I’m hoping it becomes a lucrative venture. I’ll keep you posted. I also refinish furniture. I love taking something old and ugly and transforming it. (Insert more obvious phoenix/life metaphors here.)

6. Get a tattoo. If I manage to meet all my other goals by December 31st, 2012, then I plan to get a tattoo as a reward for all my hard work. I’ve always wanted one, see, but was never allowed to like them growing up (Christians shouldn’t mark themselves as the heathens do/tattoos are for rebellious punks/my dad really hates them). Then it became really trendy and hipster-ish to be this middle-class white person who’s never gotten so much as a parking ticket to suddenly cover themselves in random images of bacon and birds and pretend they were making some kind of statement about society, so getting a tattoo just made you one of the sheeple. But now I say fuck it, I really want one and I don’t care what anyone thinks of it because goal #1 is to quit giving a shit about opinions that don’t matter. So hey, goal accomplished. Kind of.

So that’s pretty much it for now. This was way longer than I thought it would be. It’s probably also full of typos. I apologize. Writing courses are on 2013’s list.