Goodbye 2008, Hello 2009

I can't believe 2008 is almost over. Looking back, it amazes me how much things have changed and how little is the same as it was last year. I've lived in 3 cities this year, and in every city my life has changed and evolved into what it is now. Jerusalem taught me about being healthy and active; St Louis taught me how to maintain and sustain a healthy lifestyle; New York City has taught me how to survive on my own in a crazy place full of too many crazy people.

So much has happened, so much has changed. In many respects, 2008 was the year I came alive (which I find somewhat ironic, seeing as though I am sitting here alone on New Year's Eve doing absolutely nothing--please don't remind me of how pathetic I am, I am well aware of it.) I learned all about health and life and living to my very best abilities. I learned about commitment and sustenance and opening myself up to new possibilities. I entered myself into the dating scene, and while it has yet to be successful, it's a big step for me. I found confidence and strength within myself; confidence and strength that had always been there even though I was blind to them. I opened myself to Hope and Love, to positivity and prayer, to breath and calm. I created a life that I love, contained in a body that I'm learning to love, wrapped in a soul filled with beauty and love.

For all the crap that happened in 2008, it's been a pretty great year.
And I made that happen for myself.

I don't like the idea of New Year's Resolutions, as I'd rather set attainable goals for myself and allow myself to change them as I see fit. So as we welcome in 2009, I set the following goals for myself:

1. To go to the gym a few times a week, and work with a trainer a couple of times to figure out how to best strengthen my body and spirit (Dave, could I tempt you to fly to NY on a weekly basis? :))
2. To continue eating healthfully, trying new fruits and veggies and learning new and exciting ways of preparing healthy food.
3. To keep dating, be it J-Date or other more conventional methods.
4. To continue my quest to love my body, and to learn to see myself the way others see me.
5. To think positively, to pray everyday, to find the beauty in everyone and everything.
6. To thank God everyday for the miracles of life, breath, song and spirit.

We'll see what gets added on to this list as the year progresses.

Finally, to all of you who read this, thank you for your constant support and love. You make such a difference in my life and in my ability to rid myself of this "heavy stuff" that's plagued me throughout my life. May your 2009 be filled with light, spirit, love, joy, friendship, and much happiness.

thanks for your patience

I know I've been bad about posting as of late. There's been so much going on, from the simchas of my brother's and cousin's graduations to the sadness of my cantor's losing her job. Lots of emotion, and so much of it has left me exhausted emotionally and physically.

I've learned so much about synagogue politics and infrastructure within the last 2 weeks. There has been so much I've needed to absorb and to come to terms with. There has been so much I've learned that I've never wanted to learn, and I wish my cantor didn't have to lose her job for me to learn these lessons. The whole thing disgusts me and makes me sick, though I see the reasons it needed to be done. The hardest part is yet to come, when I sit down with my childhood rabbi on Friday morning and ask him how this decision came to be. How is it possible to express your anger and disappointment without burning the important bridges you need for your professional career?

I've spent the last 2 weeks at home in St Louis. I've been a friend to Linda, trying to help her cope with her terrible loss. I've been a shoulder for my brother who is trying to deal with life as a college graduate, with no job prospects due to this shitty economy, living at home again, and girlfriend troubles. I'm trying to help my mom as much as I can without letting her get to me, and it gets increasingly difficult as the days go on.

Sometimes, after a long day of dealing with everyone else's crap, I just want someone to hold me and tell me everything is going to be alright. I know how cheesy that sounds. It makes me want to vomit, too.

But it's true.

I've also been disgusted with myself. As a result of all of these goings-on, all I do at the end of the day is eat food I don't need. For example, today I've eaten approximately 4,679 reeses peanut butter cups, along with huge chunks of the muffins my mom brought home and something like 17,000 pieces of cheese. This is emotional eating to the extreme, and while I do feel as though I have good reason for it, I also realize it can't continue if I want to continue fitting into the size 18 pants I've recently bought.

Is it bad to wish I could just hack huge portions of flesh off of my body and whip myself into a new person, with a pretty flat tummy and perfectly toned arms? Maybe in my next lifetime...

Upon my return to NYC, things will be changing. I'm joining a gym, for one.

Until then, I press on.

Livid

The cantor from my home synagogue, who is my mentor and inspiration and good friend, emailed me today to tell me she was "let go." She is 61 years old, there are no pulpit jobs available in the STL area right now, and she is devastated. The rabbi and congregation president made the decision to keep all 3 rabbis on staff and let go of the cantor to earn back some of the huge deficit they've accumulated over the last few years (hiring that third rabbi when you couldn't afford him sure was a smart move, huh?)

I am devastated about this. Her job was her love, her family, her livelihood. She isn't married, her children are grown and living on their own, so her position really was the one thing that kept her going all this time. She so clearly loved every note she sang on the bimah, every student she taught, every word of Torah she so beautifully chanted. Now, at her 30th anniversary of service to the congregation, she's being disposed of. Just like that.

My synagogue has always been my escape, my place of refuge. Her voice has carried me from this crazy world straight to God on so many occasions. How can I go back there knowing she isn't there? How can I sing the happy-clappy crap melodies the assistant rabbi sings (out-of-tune, btw) knowing the cantor should be there and isn't? How can I go back there knowing that Jewish music is no longer an important part of the congregation I was once so proud to be a member of? I have a feeling this is the end of my tenure at this congregation--the congregation that I know by heart, that is filled to the brim with wonderful people and memories and so much spiritual and personal growth.

It makes so sad to think about that.

Rabbinical students who read this, please don't let this happen again. Find other ways to cut your budgets. Don't do the same disservice to your congregation that my rabbi is doing to mine.

I am livid right now. And instead of eating my feelings, I am writing about them...we'll see if it works.

Amazing Day

I just came back from my first ever Feldenkrais lesson. For those of you who don't know what Feldenkrais is, it is a method to help align your body to teach your body exactly how every part relates to another. For example, our teacher had us focus on the sensations we felt in our legs as we moved our neck from side to side (that's putting it simply...the actual exercise was slightly more complicated.) It's an easy, minimal-movement kind of exercise designed to increase self-awareness and help you realize the impact of every movement you make on every muscle and bone in your body. Pretty awesome.

At the end of the lesson, we were asked to slowly stand, feel the sensations on all sides of our bodies, and slowly walk around the room. As I slowly stood, I realized that my body was naturally aligned in the position my voice teacher has been wanting me to find for the past 3 months. I walked with poise and strength, gracefully, without trying to do anything. I was so aware of my body in that moment; for the first time, I experienced--both in looking and in feeling--what my body actually is at THIS moment. After standing still for a moment and listening to what my body was telling me, and then sneaking a peek in the mirror, I had a shocking revelation. Instead of the heavy, droopy body from 100 pounds ago that I carry around with me normally, my body was what it is RIGHT NOW. Totally present, with no association to the past or to the future. It was such a shocking and remarkable discovery for someone struggling with the idea of accepting herself physically for exactly what she is. It also felt pretty damn good to see a tall, graceful body in the mirror, standing proudly in the moment.

It's interesting to think about how I perceive my body in relation to dieting. Until today, I never realized that my thoughts towards my body tend to revolve around the person I was at 300+ pounds OR the person I will be once I lose the next chunk of weight. Maybe that's a reason for the body dysmorphia issues I've been experiencing as of late. Instead of allowing myself to see the Tracy I am right now, I spend too much time thinking about the Tracy I was or the Tracy I will be. The Tracy who is typing this right now is pretty damn great, just the way she is, with her past and future there merely as "bumpers" to keep her going in the right direction.

Feldenkrais is EXACTLY what I've been looking for to realign my body, to build my own self-confidence in who I AM (not who I was, and not who I will be) and to help me realize my body's place in the world right now. Pretty cool.

Too bad it's so expensive and only available at the elite health clubs in NYC. My music theory professor is actually a Feldenkrais facilitator who can snag me free passes once in awhile (which is how I was able to get into this particular class) but I know the real effects will only come after continuous study of the method. Maybe someday...

I continue to be amazed at the learning moments that God and life throw my way, and my ability to embrace them wholeheartedly.

Pray for us

My mom's been really, really sick over the last couple of months. She's having intense swelling in both legs (so bad that none of her pants or shoes will fit) and is having trouble breathing and doing normal, everyday things. Her doctors have given her a myriad of tests, all of which have come back completely normal, and no one has any idea what's going on with her. I tried to call her internist to ask him to call me back, and it's apparently very hard to leave a voicemail for a doctor.

She's unstable and very depressed and scared about what's happening to her.

She called me crying this afternoon, after my brother got frustrated and took it out on her. He goes back to school tomorrow, leaving her all alone for the next 3 weeks until he graduates.

Since her phone call around 4:00 this afternoon, I've been eating myself silly. I was literally shoving my dinner (albeit, a healthy one) down my throat, and ate way too much too fast causing myself to feel sick and bloated.

I notice that I react to bad things using food. But how can I stop it?

Please pray for my mama, and that we all have the strength to get through this without hurting ourselves or each other.

Frustrations

I don't know what's wrong with me.

I've been in such a funk lately, for no real reason at all. Things at school are going well, I'm being productive and am somewhat caught up on all the work I need to do for the week. I've spent lots of time with friends and myself this weekend, and I feel rejuvenated and ready for a short but busy week.

I just can't seem to shake whatever this is.

I think it's partially because of the holiday season looming over us, and maybe because it's already so cold in NYC. I always get lonely around the holidays, especially ones where I can't be with my family. I complain a lot about bring with them around Thanksgiving--as there is always the great debate over who's house to go to--but whenever I'm not home I miss the crazy but wonderful people that make up my family. I'm going to DC this year to be with Steph and her family, which I know will be wonderful. It just won't be home, and that kind of makes me sad.

I'm also finding it really hard to be on the dating scene right now. So many of the guys I've met are just not what I'm looking for, and I'm starting to lose hope that there is someone out there for me. I keep going back and forth on so many questions that sometimes seem so important and at other times seem so petty: Am I allowed to judge these men so harshly? Why shouldn't I have high standards, I'm pretty amazing! Why is it that only the losers--the guys with no jobs or apartments or hopes or dreams-- seem to want to date me? And do they want to date any woman who gives them attention, or do they target the ones that they think are less than perfect, like me? Are my issues really more about me than about them? Is this my own neurosis talking?

And, the most re-occuring and frustrating question:
Why won't Mr. Beshert just fall into my lap already???

The more time I spend in the dating world, the less excited I am to be a part of it.

I so badly want to wake up in the morning and see myself as a beautiful creature. I want to see what others see and know in my bones that they're right. I want to project that self-assurance onto the world and allow that positive energy to attract the positive energy of Mr. Beshert.

Is it possible to find love without it?

I know that every single one of the aforementioned questions is coming from my own insecurities and doubts. I know that I'll never get what I really want until I acknowledge that I deserve it. It's really, really hard to get to that place when you have no idea how to find it.

Untangling Knots

102 pounds. It's been almost a week since I've discovered that number, and it still feels strange on my tongue. That is a hell of a lot of weight off my shoulders--literally.

On one hand, it feels good to say it. On another, it's shameful--in that I used to weigh well over 300 pounds, in that it's only a portion of what still needs to come off, in that I used to be someone so different from who I am now.

It's a huge accomplishment, no doubt, and I'm thrilled to pieces that I've gotten here. But it's still hard for me to acknowledge it and fully take pride in what I've worked so hard for.

I've been struggling this week see what so many other people see when they look at me. It's so strange knowing that I see myself in such a very different way; when I look in the mirror, I see the Tracy from June 2007. I see the rolls and the lumps and bumps that still remain rather than the transformation from what was. When people see me and say, "you're so skinny!" I almost have to laugh as I think, "Are you kidding me?"

At some point, I will have to acknowledge the fact that physically I am not who I used to be. No longer am I the girl who can't cross her legs. No longer am I the girl who has to cringe at the idea of someone sitting next to me in a theater or on the train, knowing that because of my size, we'd both be uncomfortable. No longer do I need to look automatically to the biggest size in the store (unless I'm looking in a non-plus-size store, which I'm slowly starting to do--haven't bought anything yet, but I'll keep you posted on how it goes...) My brain and my eyes can't keep up with my body, and neither has realized that my body is no longer what it used to be.

Even my singing hasn't come to terms with my body as it is now. I'm running into problems with my singing posture because of the weight that is no longer there. My frame and muscles, which have been conditioned to carry a lot more weight than they are now, don't realize all that weight is gone. My posture is drooping and prevents my diaphragm from filling with enough air, which causes all kinds of new issues with my singing. The solid foundation to the tone that the weight used to give me is leaving me with every pound I lose. My voice teacher recommended I study Alexander Technique or Feldenkreis, both of which I'm looking into even though I don't actually understand what either of them does or how they work. We'll see what happens.

My entire body is changing, and slightly freaking out about it.
My head is torn in two right now, one half fully realizing my new, good habits and the other, not able to see or accept where these good habits have brought me.
It's a weird place to be in.
Fully aware of my accomplishments, but wondering if I've ever be able to embrace them the way I want to.
Wondering if my eyes will ever agree with what I know in my soul--that my body is a beautiful thing on the inside and out.

How I wish my eyes would see already.

You know the old adage, "Be careful what you wish for, 'cause it might come true?" It makes a lot of sense, considering that the farther I go on this journey and the more weight I lose, the more knots I end up needing to untangle. I guess that's par for the course, and hopefully untangling these knots now means I'll never have to untangle them ever again. Maybe it's untangling the knots that leads us on the road to full and complete recovery from any additiction or bad habit. Or maybe it helps us build character and strengthen our hands and minds. Or maybe it just makes for a lot of good conversations between ourselves and God.

All I know is that I continue to be amazed, in both good and bad ways, by the amount of tzurris that comes with getting exactly what you've always dreamed of.

Elation!!

Immediately after my last post this morning, I decided to take the plunge and go buy a scale. I ran to the drugstore before I could give it a second thought and ran home and ripped it out of the box. I (of course) went to the bathroom and stripped down to as little as possible, and with my heart racing I stepped on and prepared for the worst.

And then I saw the number.

The smallest I've ever seen in relation to my body.

I've crossed over the 80lb line.
I've crossed over the 90lb line.
And, I'm very excited to tell you...
I CROSSED THE 100LB LINE!!!!

Almost 102 lbs lost. 17.8 lbs lost since moving to NY. 6 pounds a month, which is very healthy and stable.

WOOOOOOHOOOOOO!!!

I am so relieved and so excited and ready to jump on this bandwagon again. I can do it, and even when I didn't think I could, I did! I'm so excited it's almost pathetic.

No Weight Watchers, no expensive gym memberships, no classes on healthy eating and lifestyle. Just me and my own intuition and body, guiding me and moving me forward at the perfect pace.

I also like to give God some of the credit, and maybe Tikva, too? Thanks guys :)

And thanks to all of you for being my continued support. Much, MUCH love to all of you. Cheers to another milestone!!

The Runaround

The last 2 weeks have been such a test of my mental and physical capabilities. Midterm season at HUC is intense, and topped off with a pulpit visit and the prospective-student open house I was involved in, I have been in a continuous state of exhaustion.

And in case you didn't already assume or figure it out:
Continuous exhaustion=Tracy eats all of the food in front of her and then some and wants to do nothing but lay in bed or on the couch all day long.

It's quite the happy place to be.

It helps that I don't keep junk in the house. Upon her visit to my apartment, Steph couldn't stop remarking on how much my eating habits have changed since she first met me in Israel last year. It really is true that the artificial and fat-laden foods that once lived in my cabinets have now been replaced by natural, organic (when I can afford it) and healthy snacks and meal options. It's progress, definite progress, but unless I change how I eat outside of my apartment, it isn't enough.

I sometimes feel as though HUC is continuously trying to sabatoge my efforts to eat healthy. Bagels twice a week, pizza at least once a week, marble cake all the freakin' time, random leftovers all the time, etc. It's SO TEMPTING to not schlep my homemade and healthy salads and soups to school in favor of eating the crap that's always around. On days when I wake up late and I'm running around just trying to get to school on time and in one piece, it's so much easier to know that I'll have something to eat waiting for me instead of packing a lunch.

It's also not easy to go to South Bend and request healthy food. I usually recieve an email of some sort before I arrive at someone's house for dinner, asking if I have any allergies or special food requests. I ALWAYS respond with, "I prefer very healthy food, lots of fruits and vegetables and lean proteins." It's amazing how many of my congregants don't seem to pay attention and serve me 4-cheese risotto for dinner. It's so sweet and wonderful of them to invite me over, and I so very much appreciate the gesture that I can't so much as say no. I try to eat small portions and eat lightly whenever I'm on my own, but it's so easy to derail and then feel awful about it.

I can tell that my resolve is weakening, that my balance scale is slowly starting to lean in the wrong direction. I'm thinking that I should either get back on the WW bandwagon (even though I really don't have the time right now) or take the plunge and buy a scale for my apartment (which I am terrified to do for a number of reasons.) I need something to keep me on track, especially through the holiday season and the mass quantities of food I know I'll consume.

Do you have any ideas for staying on top of things?

On the upside, I just had another date with another guy who really wants to see me again. I'm actually kinda into this one, who is very into taking things slowly (the date ended with a kiss on the cheek, which is what really sold me into seeing him again...how cute was that?) I'm not sure where it's going, but I'm excited to see...I'll keep you posted.

What the hell is going on here? It's so strange to think that men are attracted to me...it's never really happened before and I'm not sure I know how to handle it. Weird.

I know, it's been too long since I've last posted. You have no idea the craziness that has been my life the last 2 weeks. I am in such desperate need for a long break, with no homework, no services, no singing, no organizing, no running...just me and my couch and my TV, or me and a beautiful day and a nice walk, or me and a good coffee and a book that I want to read for fun.

I so need a good night's sleep. I haven't had one of those in waaaaay too long.

Today has been the day of eating like there's no tomorrow. Healthy food, yes, but waaaaay too much of it. I feel like a freakin' garbage disposal that never fills up.

I thought last year was a good lesson in eating well and exercising even through stress. Last year seemed like such a breeze compared to now.

I'm tired and cranky and I'm going to save my real thoughts for this weekend, when I'll actually have some time to give us both a legit post.

Back to nusach instead of my bed, where I should be.

Love Yourself as Your Neighbor?

In my Bible class the other day, my friend Julia said something so profound based on our chevrutah study of Leviticus. She was talking about the line, "Love your neighbor as yourself" and mentioned that in order to love your neighbor, you must also love yourself.

The concept sounds simple, I know, but it really struck me and I've been thinking about it all week long.

How many of us love ourselves the way we love our neighbors? Maybe in Biblical times, it was easy to love yourself, as there were no shiny magazines, no billboards, no TV ads showing what the perfect person is supposed to look like. We, however, live in a society that lives and breathes appearances and, whether we like it or not, we constantly compare ourselves to the models on the pages and the seemingly perfect people who dwell among us.

For the first time in a long time, I stood naked in front of my full length mirror yesterday. I stared at my body for a long time, trying to find one thing from the neck down that I could be proud of. I started at my feet, my long, wide feet that make it impossible to find cute shoes. I worked my way up to my calves, my "Fishbein" calves that are muscular and strong, however unfeminine they may be. My thighs have always been a source of terror to me, as has my stomach and my "inner tube" the roll of fat above my stomach created from wearing too many pairs of jeans that I had to squeeze into for so many years. My breasts that are saggy and unsexy from gaining and losing so much weight over the years (they're the one thing I would have surgically redone had I the money, time, or guts...as opposed as I may be to plastic surgery, I'd be willing to bend for some new boobs...and I am 110% serious about that.) My hands, masculine and rough but strong and durable, and my pretty forearms connected to wobbly upper-arms that won't go away no matter how many push-ups I do. My shoulders, stretch marked and freckled from too much sun in Tel Aviv last year.

From the neck up, I'm kind of a babe.

But how can I look at the rest of my body and see only uglyness?
How can I expect someone else to love my body if I don't love the appearance of my own body? How can I look at someone else and see only beauty if I can't see only beauty in myself?
How can I expect a man to be attracted to me, with clothes or without clothes, if I'm not attracted to myself?

I know that on the inside, my body is a beautiful miracle of creation. I am lucky that all of my insides work exactly as they should to support me and sustain my journey. I am also lucky to realize the gifts my body provides for me everyday; the gift of singing, of walking and talking, breathing, digesting food, laughing, etc.

But will I ever be able to see my outsides as anything but mounds of wrinkled flesh and stretch marks?
Will I ever get to a point where I can look at my body on the outside and simply appreciate the scrapbook of memories those wrinkles and stretch marks provide?
And will someone else be able to see and appreciate my body's journey before I am able to?

Is dating pointless if I'm not able to love myself enough?
Is it possible to be able to love your neighbor as yourself if you look at yourself and aren't in love?

In this day in age, at least for some of us, is it maybe more correct for God to command us to 'Love Yourself As Your Neighbor'?

Ugh

I had a lovely, wonderful Shabbat in Brooklyn last night. Spent a great evening with fantastic people in a warm shul and fantastic Israeli restaurant.

And then I came home, to an empty apartment, and felt miserable.

Why do I get like this? I LOVE living alone. I LOVE that I made it to Brooklyn successfully for the first time. I LOVE that I spent Shabbat just as one is supposed to, with good friends, prayer, food and feeling. But I came home feeling so shitty.

And then I started thinking about Andrew and what might have been if he'd responded to me differently. And I started thinking about the reasons why he rejected me and why I wasn't good enough. And then I felt even worse, so I read some Naomi Levy and went to sleep.

I feel a little better today, as I have plenty of homework to keep my brain occupied and barely any food in the house to mindlessly snack on. I want to put my new suit on to remind myself of how far I've come and how much I've changed since the whole Andrew saga went down. I might even put on makeup and look pretty for myself, to convince myself of all he is missing because he's an idiot who couldn't then and won't ever see how awesome I am.

I think this is just one of those moments where a roommate, or a boyfriend, or even a mom or a friend would come in handy. Just so I don't have to be all alone in this empty apartment.

I wish I had a "person" here. It sometimes feels like all of the people already have their person, and I'm on the outside, desperately seeking and unable to connect with anyone.

Welcome to my "I'm feeling sorry for myself and need to write about it to get it out" post. Pathetic, I know.

Simchat Torah

Last night was the beginning of Simchat Torah, the Jewish holiday where we read the last bit of the Torah before rolling it back and reading from the beginning again. It's a holiday that celebrates the Torah, celebrates Judaism, celebrates new beginnings and Jewish life and the goodness of celebration. For someone like me, who appreciates both the chance to start over and the excitement of the book of Genesis (I know, cliche, but I can't help it--I love the stories!) it's a wonderful holiday.

This year was slightly different for me. It was my first Simchat Torah in New York, and really, my first celebration outside of Temple Israel in St Louis. We celebrated at B'nai Jeshrun, a conservative (traditional? reconstructionist?) synagogue in Manhattan. They had the traditional 7 hakafot (Torah processionals) which each lasted about 45 minutes and were full of dancing and singing and so much joy with the several Torah scrolls passed around from person to person. There were people of all ages celebrating, smiling and laughing and loving the Torah.

Normally on Simchat Torah, I stand in the pews, watching the people around me dance and have fun. I've never felt comfortable dancing in public where others can see me. But this year, I danced. No concern for what others were thinking, no worries about the sweat dripping off of me, no care for how I might have looked. I stopped thinking and started dancing, and had one of the most amazing experiences of my Jewish life. I realized that simply attending Simchat Torah services wasn't justly fulfilling the commandment of observing the holiday; the point is to dance and sing and carry the Torah with your only concern being the celebration itself.

So I danced. And sang. AND--carried the Torah for awhile :) Surrounded by friends and Jewish brothers and sisters, not caring about how my body looked, concentrating only on joy and new beginnings and the gift of Torah. THIS is what my body was made to do, and for the first time I was able to let loose, let God enter my soul AND my body, let my most beautiful self shine through.

Such a refreshing wake-up call and a beautiful start to my year of Torah. I didn't stay for the actual reading (we left in the middle of the 4th hakafa--too many people!) but it still amazes me the lessons God and the Torah can teach without reading a single word.

I know the revelation of Torah is celebrated on the Jewish holiday of Shavuout in the spring; but I don't think God would mind me saying that I had my own Torah revelation last night. From this point forward, the Torah will mean so much more than it ever did before.

Thanks, Dude, for the gift of Torah.

Questions

Recently, around the time when I was really excited over my date with Brian, when I was really worried about how I wasn't all that attracted to him, a good friend told me that "girls like us are never going to find attractive men. They don't want us. Just deal with it and keep seeing him."

Now, this friend is not fat. Never has been, never will be. She also isn't a pretty girl, more because of her own laziness and choosing than her natural physical appearance. She has everything she needs to be labeled as "attractive" except for the effort and attitude.

But, according to this friend, because I am fat, I am automatically put into the "unattractive" category when it comes to men. Without actually saying it, she decided that the cluster of men I have to choose from is different from that of the average woman BECAUSE OF MY WEIGHT.

But what if, despite the numbers on the scale and the tags on my clothes, I think I am pretty?
What if I do believe that I have the right to choose who I want to date, the kinds of men I am interested in?
What if I think it's okay to be selective, to not want to date a guy because I'm not attracted to him?
What if I keep the faith that someday a wonderful, handsome man is going to find me and fall madly in love with me, like Link and Tracy in Hairspray?

Am I crazy for keeping these hopes with me? Is it true that the man of my dreams will never look my way because of my weight?

I so badly want to poll the men in my life and ask them what they think about this. I don't necessarily think I have the best men to ask; the only ones I trust are either gay or too sweet to tell me the truth. I just want to know what the average man would think about the following questions, provided he was single and looking:

A woman in your life comes up to you and confesses her undying love and devotion to you. She's perfect: an intelligent, sweet, funny, successful, driven, family-oriented, religious (or not, depending on your religious inclinations), beautiful girl. EXCEPT--she weighs 250lbs. Would you give her a chance, knowing she'd love you and would naturally be everything you're looking for? Or would you cast her aside, reasoning that someone better would come along?

I guess no one is perfect. It just amazes me the number of guys who'd rather date a lunatic than a girl who's working to take off too many extra pounds.

Opinions, Please!!

First of all, I'm a little ashamed to be posting this...feels narcissistic or something. Sorry about that.

For awhile now I've been wanting to buy a new suit. I've been on the lookout, tried on a bunch of options, and haven't found anything that fits particularly well or is all that flattering.

That said, I found something this morning that I might be into. BUT--since I'm never 100% sure about these things, and those of you who read this seem to have great senses of fashion, I want your opinion. I need my stylists!! Before I show you, I should tell you a few things about it.

1. I LOVE the jacket and the look as a whole. I don't think it makes me look boxy or masculine, which I normally think when I'm in a suit.
   
2. The jacket=size 20. The pants=size 18. I took pictures of the tags for evidence, just in case I am making this all up in my head. Size 18 pants? NEVER happened before, ever.
   
3. The whole suit cost me $48, tax and all. Brilliant.
4. The pants are the one thing I can't quite decide on. I'm not really a wide-leg girl, and since I have no butt, I don't know if I can really pull them off. The size 20's were too big in the leg, even though I really have to squeeze into the 18's (but they fit!) Maybe a tailor can work some magic on them?

The pics were tough to take, and I didn't realize how dirty my mirror was until after I'd taken the pictures, so my apologies if the suit itself is hard to see. I'm wearing my 2-inch heel boots in the pics, so I need to find some cute heels to go with it. Yay for new shoes!

The sizes. Yep, they're real. I still can't believe it myself. I also love the teeny-tiny polka dots.

The jacket

The pants--see the bulk in the hip and thigh area? Can a tailor fix that?

Front view

Side view

So what do we think? I won't be offended by opinions since I struggle with knowing what works and what doesn't. Thanks in advance for your help!

Strange

I keep thinking about what I wrote in my last post, about how I see something completely different when I look at myself than how others see me. Life keeps throwing all these signs at me, like the saleslady this morning who said, "oh, there's no way you could be a size 22--no way!" or the pair of size 18 pants I bought. I just can't wrap my head around the fact that my body is shrinking to sizes I never thought I'd fit into, to numbers I never knew I could reach.

Why is it so hard for me to believe what is happening? I know I'm following the rules (at least I am now that the holidays are over and I'm back in NYC.)
Why is it so hard for me to see myself as skinnier now, even though the numbers prove it time and time again?
Why did I believe it so easily last year? What was so different that made everything so much clearer?

Body dysmorphia is a strange thing.

On an entirely different note, the guy I broke up with last week just sent me an e-card saying he'd like to talk to me. Why he didn't just call me, I don't know. I'm not going to get back to him; I have no desire to see him anymore, and though I know I'm irresistible (:-p), I really have no desire to make him think we have a chance when we don't.

2 new guys are on the schedule for this week. This dating thing is fun!

More on the JDate thing later, especially on the creepiness of online dating and the guys who are desperate to date a woman like me. It's kind of gross, actually (I talked to a guy last night who told me that "the big girls spread easy"--needless to say, I wanted to VOMIT and blocked him immediately.)

Strange.

Closer and Closer

To someone trying to lose weight, there is no better feeling than putting on that size you never thought you could wear and having it fit PERFECTLY.

That happened not once, but twice today.

First, while roaming the Mizzou bookstore today with Leah, I came across an adorable pink hoodie, on clearance, in a size XL. I haven't worn a sweatshirt without 2 or more X's in...well, ever. And it fit. Beautifully.

I had absolutely no intentions of walking out of the bookstore with the pink hoodie. I don't need it. I can't afford it. So did I buy it? Absa-freakin'-lutely. Love it, both for what it is and what it means to me.

Then, after Leah left Como (after the most perfect afternoon I could ask for) I went to Lane Bryant to see what was on sale. To my surprise, every single top in my normal size 22/24 was too big. The next size down, 18/20, fit just right. Total surprise to me, but totally wonderful. For shits and giggles, I decided to try on the next size down of the jeans I would normally buy. Again, they fit BEAUTIFULLY. If I hadn't just bought and altered 3 new pair a few months ago, I would have bought all the pairs the store had in my size. I'm proud of myself for holding back.

Leah mentioned today that I am far skinnier than I think I am. I've always heard that when losing weight, especially as much weight as I have to lose, it sometimes takes awhile for your brain to catch up with your body in terms of how you see yourself. Her comment got me thinking: Will I ever be able to look at myself in the mirror and see a thin person? I'm not thin, yet, but if and when I get there, will I still see the Tracy I was a year ago? Will it be impossible for me to acknowledge myself as "thin" when I've always known myself as "fat"? Just an interesting question to ponder in the midst of this incredible transformation.

In my last post I wrote about needing some inspiration to get back on the ball with my healthy lifestyle. I'm thinking that today's clothing extravaganza might have been the wake-up call I needed. I can't let myself go back to where I was; I'm having too much fun with my smaller clothes and ability to move and get around easily. I don't know if today came because God knew I needed it, or if a couple of other people "up there" were chiming in, but whoever is responsible I am eternally grateful. It's funny how life tosses these moments at you just as you need them.

These moments allow me to turn down that second piece of challah, to not feel ashamed to ask for what I need, to get my butt back to the gym on a regular basis, to keep measuring and weighing my portions. I need to hold onto these moments and never, ever let them go, at least not until I reach my goal.

Will you remind me of them whenever I forget?

Whitney, we're looking in the 18/20's now ;)

Inspiration Needed

I went to Dave and Gal's websites this morning to watch some videos of Tikva from when she was doing well. I guess I needed to be reminded of my inspiration, of the person who helped me to push myself this summer to stay with my good, healthy routine. The routine that I'm not keeping up with now, for a lot of different reasons that now feel like mere excuses.

I remember seeing Tikva's face before she was born. I remember her coaxing me through the water when I was swimming after camp everyday. I remember the commitment I made to her and to myself the day she died, promising both of us I wouldn't give up on this.

And now, to some extent, I feel like a failure. I've broken my committment to her, and also to myself.

I'm not a failure, in the slightest, but if the last couple weeks have shown me anything, it's that I need to try a lot harder. Stress does not mean it's okay to eat everything in sight. Anxiety does not give me permission to give up everything I've worked so hard for. It's okay to tell the people in South Bend what I've done and what I continue to do so I can eat appropriately. And I will, slowly, when the time is right, tell certain people there what I've done, with the hope that they will alert others. News travels fast in a little Jewish community like that.

All my life I've had a fear of disappointment. I don't want to let anyone down by gaining back any of the weight I've lost this year. I don't want to disappoint people who are expecting me to lose more when just the opposite happens. I don't want to disappoint myself, my best self, the Tracy that I was this summer when I was eating really well and exercising every day.

I really, really want to go to Cincy next year and see everyone, including Dave and Gal, and blow their minds with how well I've done. I want to hug them and burst into happy tears because they were all such a part of my dream come true.

I just need to get that motivation back. That motivation that was so strong all of last year, all of last summer.

One of the downsides to being a Jewish leader is that you sometimes feel like you have to worry about the logistical aspects of the service and don't have much of a chance to pray for yourself. I kind of feel like Rosh Hashana came and went without any chance for personal reflection, and I fear Yom Kippur, with it's 5 services, will be the same way. I'm trying SO HARD to reflect and repent and connect with God this week, between the holy days, so I can find God in my own way while still doing my job. I trust it will get easier in time, when it isn't my very first ever HHD's as cantor. I guess we'll see. But I know I need God right now--it's to the point where the job feels entirely too big to handle on my own, even with the people I have who are busily cheering me on. I need some sort of divine intervention, and there's no better time to ask for it than right now.

Hashiveini Adonai Elecha--let me return to You, God. Let me live up to b'tzelem Elohim, the finest image of You I can be.

Life is going to change after HHD's. It has to. I deserve the best health I can have for myself, and that certainly won't be found with what I am doing now.

I still have Hope.

Always will.

Catching Up

I'm sorry I haven't posted on here in forever. It's been a completely crazy week, and so many things are going on in the world and in my head that it almost seems like too much to write down.

It's the second day of Rosh Hashana, and I am home in St Louis after spending the weekend in South Bend at my student pulpit. It was a wonderful Shabbat and Rosh Hashana, and despite the many, many mistakes that were made, everyone was happy with the services we led.

The week preceeding my visit was insane, as I had a ton of music to learn and 11 verses of Torah to chant last Thursday at HUC t'fillah. All good things, but stressful and exhausting. I realized more than ever last week how I deal with anxiety by eating, as I pretty much ate anything that came within 100 feet of me. A week of bagels, take-out, chocolate, coffee, etc. All of my healthy eating rules and habits flew out the window. I just couldn't think about it in the midst of HHD prep and the stresses of school. I'm kind of ashamed of myself, actually, though I'm trying to be gentle about it and remember that everyone has weeks like this, and that everyone makes mistakes.

It's also really hard to follow a diet when people host you for meals; sweet and wonderful Jewish mama's who take the time to bake homemade challah (who can resist that?) and prepare food straight from their hearts and souls. I did the best I could, but it's virtually impossible for me to say no to one of my sweet congregants who've been cooking especially for me. Saying no is also one of my biggest personal issues; at some point, I will have to learn how.

There's also been the whole boy issue this week. We went out again last Tuesday night, and while he was very sweet, I just didn't feel the same connection to him that I did on our first date. He was dressed like my Uncle Larry, and while my uncle is a sweet man, it's hard to kiss a guy who reminds me so much of him. He also wanted to make out in front of this group of old men on my doorstep, which freaked me out. PDA is not something I'm comfy with, nor is getting too physical too quickly. I also get the impression that he's really desperate to get into a stable relationship, and while I say that I want it, I kind of feel like I want to play the field a bit before I commit to anything. It's amazing how quickly the mind can change.

And now I need to figure out a way to tell him I don't want to see him anymore without saying, "Shana tova! BTW, I don't really want to date you..." He hasn't really done anything wrong, I'm just not feeling him the way I want to be. And I don't think I can, now that I'll always associate him with Uncle Larry.

I feel horrible about being superficial, but I'm allowed to have some say so in the matter, right? I'm allowed to not be attracted to someone, right? It doesn't make me a horrible person, right?

How do you tell someone you don't really want to see them again? I've never been in the position of the "dumper", and I want to do it in a way that honors his dignity and treats him respectfully. He deserves both of those things.

Anyways, happy and healthy new year to all of you out there. May 5769 bring you all the best and so much love, health, and happiness.

Potential

I can't help but be really excited by the potential that awaits me. The potential for something special, something meaningful, something I've been searching for for a long time.

I spent a long time last night deliberating what I really want from a person, what is the most important. I took the time to really think about what I need, what I am able to give to someone else, what he can give me.

I hope I'm ready to move forward with this. I hope I can handle it alongside everything else going on in my life right now.

I hope the jitters and the excited feeling in the pit of my stomach never go away. I hope the Tracy that was flirty and open and excited can stick around for awhile, maybe forever.

I hope that what he said was really true, that he's actually seeing me for what I am and not just telling me things he thinks I want to hear.

It's all so new for me. It's nice and exciting and making me unable to think about the fact that Rosh Hashana is in a week and I still have music to learn and organize. It's pretty exciting, indeed.

This, after a few conversations on the phone and one fantastic afternoon.
And a kiss. OK, 2 kisses. OK, maybe a few.

There is always the potential for things to go sour. But for now, I'm excited by the mere fact that there is potential at all, and that both parties seem excited by it.

Random

I'm trying really hard to stick to my "no eating until 2 hours after a meal" plan. With the exception of yesterday's horrible turnout, I'm doing well. It's this time of day, between 4-7pm, and again at night, between 9-12, that I get really snacky. My body is hungry right now, and while I said I would break my rules whenever I was legitimately hungry, I think I really need to follow them right now to give my body time to get used to it's new eating schedule. I am drinking water (soooo much water today--been peeing like there is no tomorrow) and just made myself an iced coffee with some milk. I'm hoping the protein from the milk will fill me up a little so I can cook my spinach-filled chicken breast without eating myself out of house and home.

I should also mention that it's been one of those "I guess I'll never be able to eat that again" days. It took a great amount of restraint not to lick the TV when a Red Robin commercial came on. I haven't had a real burger since January, and I can't tell you how badly I want one right now. BUT--I will persevere my way through get-healthy land and remind myself how my efforts are paying off. Maybe not in lbs at the moment, but certainly in good health.

I had a shocking realization I forgot to mention yesterday--I realized as I was waiting for my date in Penn Station that maybe I am more afraid of the possibility that things might turn out WELL than I am about the possibility that things might turn out badly. Maybe I am more afraid of getting exactly what I want and therefore, needing to bear my complete self to another human being. I'm not sure I know how to get past that, other than one step at a time, but it has to be worthwhile. I came home yesterday and read Dave's blog, which featured the following quote by Maryanne Williamson. I've heard these words before many times, but they really resonated with me when I read them yesterday.

"It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. When we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people the permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Dating is scary. But maybe it's scarier to really show your most beautiful self, your most intimate self, to another, for any number of reasons. Maybe living with that fear, working through it and conquering it and sharing the journey with exactly the right person, is the best way to love and be loved. Maybe it is through that sharing that we build our deepest, most fulfilling and intimate relationships.

I will find it.
I will achieve anything I set out to do.
I will love and be loved.
I will conquer this fear.
I will shine.

Bad Day

The bastard never showed up today. I waited in Penn Station like an asshole for an hour, wondering if every guy who came by was him. He called me 2 hours after we were supposed to meet to tell me he was in a car accident this morning and couldn't make it. I was already underground and missed his call, so all of his story was said on my answering machine. I promptly called him back to tell him that I'd be around if he wanted to try to reschedule, but if not, he could have a nice weekend (and like, I thought to myself.) He hasn't called back yet. If he wants to meet me, he'll call. If he was lying and just trying to get out of the date with a lame story, he won't call. The ball is in his court, and I'm not going to steal it from him anytime soon.

I then tried to get into Brooklyn to spend the day with a friend. Apparently, the train I needed wasn't actually running today, which I didn't realize until I'd stood there for 30 minutes. So I ran around the subway station, trying to find someone who could give me decent directions, and when I couldn't, I waited in one more spot for the train that I thought could maybe get me there. And then I saw 3 rats; 3 dirty, disgusting, huge rats running around ON THE PLATFORM close to where I was standing.

I freaked out. Total breakdown. In the middle of Penn Station.

I couldn't be there anymore. I had to get out, to somehow get home and as quickly as possible. Somewhere along the way I found Garretts Popcorn which originated in Chicago and always reminds me of the Midwest. So I got a huge bag. Needless to say, it's over halfway eaten already. When I finally got to the platform to get on my train to get home, I had yet another breakdown because my train never seemed to come. It was completely pathetic and made me realize that I really, truly HATE this city and don't want to live here even one more day.

I guess it's the price I have to pay for working towards my dreams.

I keep telling myself I'm lucky to be here. That I'd rather be miserable here than wonderful and not in cantorial school. That there are hundreds of rejects of HUC who'd happily take my place. That there are people who should be here who can't be here for any number of reasons. That I am working to fulfill my dreams.

It ain't working.

I hate this city. I couldn't hate it more if I tried.

Is it too late to pack up and go home?

What if

What if he takes one look at me and decides to turn around and walk away?
What if he has that disappointed, "just another fattie" look on his face the entire time we're together, and only stays because he's polite?
What if we connect beautifully, and then he tells the truth that he just can't be attracted to someone like me?
What if he tells me I'm just not good enough for him?

I'm not a big dater.
There are reasons for that.

All of the above have happened to me at one point or another. As much as I want to find someone, I sometimes think I'd be happier just being alone, without having to hear anything else like this.

I can't find love without being willing to put myself out there. I can't be afraid of the things people (men) can say or do. I can't be scared that this one date will derail all of the work I've done to build and sustain my self-confidence. Or rather, I should say that I can't ALLOW this one date to derail anything. It's all up to me.

I'm scared of tomorrow.

So stupid. So true.

Does it ever work out for those of us who aren't a size 6?

ברית לעצמי

The last week has been entirely too filled with food. Eating whatever I can, whenever I can. I only keep healthy foods in the house, so thus far the quality of food hasn't been a problem, but the quantity of the food is causing concern.

I'm sure PMS has been a big part of the problem, paired with the stresses of school and finding new and interesting reasons to hate New York City.

But I am determined to battle the problem and to come out on top. So last night, I created a brit--a covenant--for myself. Between me, my body, and God. I created the following conditions (the term 'rules' sounds negative to me) for my brit, which I will addend whenever the time feels right.

#1: I will wait at least 2 hours between eating a meal and having a snack. This way, I won't graze all day long, including the time when I am actually cooking a meal, since I tend to nibble away on anything in the kitchen in the middle of the preparations.

#2: After dinner, I will only drink, and I may only drink water, tea, or milk. After a healthy dinner, I shouldn't need to eat anything else. Brushing my teeth right after dinner last night was very helpful, so I will continue to do so until my body adjusts to this pattern.

#3: I will only eat when I am actually hungry. If I've already eaten and I'm not hungry, I don't need to eat again, no matter who it's with or what it's for.

#4: Should I be hungry--legitimately hungry and uncomfortable (it's not always horrible to be hungry)--the preceding conditions are null and void and I may eat a small, healthy snack.

#5: I will continue to use my food scale to measure what REAL portions are and eat only according to that (you'd be surprised how vastly incorrect most measuring cups are--most of the time, a the recommended cup-measurement weighs 10-20 grams more than the serving size should be. Those extra grams add up!)

#6: I will continue to treat myself at least once a day with something wonderful, whether food related or not.

#7: I will learn that just because I am in the kitchen I DO NOT need to be eating. I can cook, wash dishes, clean, measure, etc. without eating anything. It IS possible.

Seven conditions feels like a good number to me for now. And all of the conditions are phrased in a positive way, since this is a positive step in the right direction. I'll add more when the time is right.

Now that it's written down, I am going to post my brit in every room in my house as to never forget. Like my own personal 10 Commandments, except only 7. That's okay.

Healthy

I just finished a big cup of my homemade frozen yogurt, made with nothing but some frozen fruit (that I froze myself just before it went bad, when it was ugly to look at but so juicy and sweet) and plain nonfat yogurt. It's my new dessert ritual, especially when I crave McDonalds ice cream or, more recently, the ice cream from the Mister Softee truck that paroles my neighborhood. And, right before I go to sleep, I eat a tiny piece of the 85% cocoa chocolate bar I bought last week. Bought it last week, still have 75% of it left in my freezer. It's my one little tiny indulgence at the end of the day, instead of wine or something worse.

My dinner tonight was a huge salad of every vegetable known to man (really, you name it, it was probably in my salad) topped off with some roasted turkey breast. I had a tiny bit of brown rice left over from the other night that went really well and gave me enough carbs to help me feel full.

Today, I avoided (ok, mostly avoided) the pizza that was served at lunch and instead went for a big plate of the tossed salad and a Kashi granola bar (my other new fave thing.) I might have had about 1/3 of a piece of cheese pizza, but I'm okay with that. All things in moderation, and NY pizza is hard to pass up.

I'm still doing well on WW. Not going to meetings yet, though I feel it coming soon. Sticking to the plan as best I can even though my portions are a bit larger than I'd like and some of my choices are not the best. I feel like I'm getting some sort of a routine down and might be able to join the gym soon. My time on WW is not over and I want to start up again. I can do it, I know it.

Weight loss aside, it just feels better knowing that I'm putting healthy food into my body.

Awkward

I am socially awkward. Always have been, always will be. A good conversationalist, especially with strangers, I am not. I've never liked being in big groups, especially groups full of people I don't know. I tend to be a wallflower, sticking with people I know (even if I don't know them well) or hanging out by myself, waiting for someone to approach me, and usually having an awkward and uneasy conversation if and when that happens.

Last night I went to shabbat in the city with a huge group of Jews from all walks of life. A fair number of my classmates were there, though no one I am especially close to. They kept talking about their Brooklyn lives (I live in Queens) their teaching jobs (I only have a monthly pulpit as of now) and the fabulous things they wanted to do after services and dinner. And many of them knew others from outside the HUC clique. I felt awkward, unwelcome, and slightly agitated that I'd bothered to come at all, though I know that was never the intention of the group or the wonderful person who did the inviting. I spent more time making friends with the sweet potato chips than I did with any of the seemingly nice people who were there.

I wish I was a social butterfly. I don't quite know why I'm not, actually. I am more than capable of making good conversation, and often do when I'm just one-on-one. I feel uncomfortable and anxious around big groups, like I don't fit in. Most of the time, I really DON'T fit in. It's exactly the reason I don't go to bars or clubs for fun--sitting in a big group of people, surrounded by an even bigger group of people, is not my idea of fun. In fact, it makes me anxious just thinking about it.

How am I supposed to meet people and make friends if I can't put myself out there? If I spend so much time feeling awkward at social gatherings, sending out negative and ugly energies that cause people to avoid me?

And how do I turn to anything but food to fill in the holes caused by my inability to let people in?

My friend Gal recently wrote about feeling alone even while surrounded by amazing community. I can relate to that so well, though for a very different reason. It's nice to know we're alone together, at least.

I'm craving California...I have friends in LA, Huntington Beach, San Francisco--anyone up for a trip?

I'm never going to move forwards with my weight loss until I can stop eating and start living.

How do I do that?

Enough

I am trying really, really hard to be a grown up and not complain about how much I dislike living in this city.

However, after spending 4 days in the midwest, 2 at my student pulpit in South Bend, IN and the other 2 in Cincinnati, I can't help but be miserable at the thought of being back here.

Cincy was so right. From the second I got to Steph and Ari's apartment, it felt like home. I felt more at home in their pretty apartment, with it's elevator and central AC and dishwasher and space, than I ever have at this apartment.

The idea of waking up at the crack of dawn to be on the train at 7:30, then commuting an hour to get to school, then sitting in class all day long surrounded by people who like it here, then commuting another hour home, is too much to think about right now.

I want to crawl into bed and never get out.

I want to create a SSM at the Cincy campus, where the dean remembered me and knew my name. I don't think the dean here has a clue in hell who I am, even though she interviewed me, met me last year in Jerusalem, and has bumped into me several times in the elevators that are always too slow and too crowded because some idiot decided the stairs are a security risk.

The man at the airport who was hailing the taxis told me that I move like an old lady.
He would too, if he'd been traveling since 10:30 this morning and felt weary and tired and was missing his friends.
I not-so-politely told him to kiss my ass.
I was in no mood to be graceful.

The taxi driver had no idea where I lived, and no clue how to get me there.
I made him stop the meter and pull over and get directions--I wasn't going to pay him to drive around until he found it.
I then remarked that it wasn't my job to know where I'm going (he doesn't need to know that I live in this building--he assumed I was visiting, and that's fine by me.)

I can't take this city.
I want to go to Cincinnati.
Or Jerusalem.
Or even back to St Louis.

I just want to go where it feels right, and that certainly isn't here.

I should probably mention that I get whiny and bitchy when I'm tired. And every little thing, from the 30 minute delay in Detroit, to the 45 minute line for a taxi, was pissing me off.

I'm going to sleep. Thank you for letting me vent.

Masking Tape and Peanut Butter?

When I was in high school choir, we would take trips around the country to sing at various festivals and universities. We would stay in hotel rooms, usually 4 girls to a room/4 guys to a room. To assure we wouldn't get into trouble, our choir director would put masking tape across the outside of our hotel room doors at night, so he could see the broken tape if someone tried to get out. We all knew better than to "break the tape."

I've been thinking about putting the tape rule into affect here in my own apartment. Not for my bedroom door, of course, but for the kitchen door once dinner is eaten and cleaned up. I'm spending far too much time in the kitchen at night, eating when I'm not even hungry, "needing" that late night snack or bite of peanut butter (that is causing all kinds of problems--I should just pitch the damn jar.)

And I'm starting to notice the effects of my poor eating choices. I caught myself in the mirror today and stared at my face for a really long time. It is slightly chubbier than the last time I really looked.

How vain does that sound? Who the hell cares if my face looks chubbier today than it did a week ago? In the grand scheme of things, does it matter a single bit? NO.

But it's been upsetting me all day. I am trying to be patient and loving and gentle and yet all I want to do is hit the gym again every day and stop eating copious amounts of peanut butter and dessert EVERY night and wine before bed (did I mention that my program is turning me into an alcoholic? Cause it is.) However, I'm still struggling to find time in the day to dedicate to the gym, when every minute seems to be filled with learning music and studying hebrew and translating the Tanach. I'm still in such a phase of flux, where nothing is constant or routine, and I feel like until that's established I can't go anywhere. Excuses, excuses, but the idea of adding something else into this crazy mix seems unbearable right now.

The want to better myself physically. The want to better myself spiritually and academically. The want to do well in school and in my pulpit work. It's a lot of pushing and pulling and trying to make room for everything. It will take time to figure out, but time's a wastin', and I'll only go backwards if I can't somehow figure out a way to go forwards.

I should stop looking in the mirror on my closet door and start looking in the mirrors at the NYU gym as I work out.
I should put the tape across my kitchen door so I don't eat spoonfuls of PB.
I should stop bitching and start working already.

I'm trying hard not to use the 's' word. The term 'should' implies guilt. As a result, we 'shouldn't' use it when talking to or about ourselves or others. But there comes a point when you know what's good for you, a time when 'should' needs to be become 'will' in order to take away the associations. I'm getting to that point, but I'm not there yet. For now, I choose to think of 'should' as my vehicle towards 'will.'

I'm not making any sense. I'm tired. And I want some peanut butter.

I think I will put up the tape across my kitchen door, as long as I can somehow have access to water. Maybe I'll tape the fridge? Maybe the shelves with my other goodies? We'll see.

Might it be more helpful to put the masking tape across my mouth? Just kidding. Kind of.

For now, I'm putting my tired bones to sleep.

Furious

Time Warner is my cable company. They came this past Saturday to install my cable TV and internet. Both have been working fine ever since.

Except that the ethernet cable the TW technician plugged into my computer will NOT come out. It's stuck. The sides of my computer move along with the plug whenever I try to pull the plug out. I am afraid if I pull the chord too hard, it will break my computer. To resolve this, I put a call into TW tonight. 45 minutes of electronic help later, followed by a dumb-shit customer service technician, I talked to her supervisor.

He repeatedly told me there is nothing they can do. They can send out a technician, at my expense, to "assess" the situation and see if they can pull it out, but if there is in fact danger to my computer the technician will not touch it (and I still pay the $30, of course.)

I repeatedly told both the customer service technician and her supervisor that this was unacceptable. I haven't moved the computer since the modem was installed. I wasn't the one who jammed the cable into the computer. I had nothing to do with any of it. And yet, it is MY problem and MY expense. Because the computer belongs to me, as does the modem that I BOUGHT from TW. The lovely supervisor (Mr. Robertson, if you please...I prefer "Mr. Asshole") told me I could either just use the computer with the modem chord hanging out of it (very cool, indeed) or take the computer to a Best Buy type place to see if they could remove the chord, also at my expense. And yet, what happens when I need to plug in the cable once again to receive internet access and it gets stuck?

Such bullshit. BULL-SHIT.

I stuck up for myself. I didn't take 'no' for an answer. I don't feel that I should be responsible for this, as I wasn't the one who caused it to happen. I'm currently waiting for Mr Asshole to call me back, telling me when to expect a call from his supervisor, who is (surprise, surprise...) gone for the day. I shouldn't have to deal with this, and I certainly shouldn't have to pay for this. And I won't pay for it. I won't pay a cent for a TW technician to come out here. I won't pay a cent to take it to Best Buy. This one will be on Time Warner, whether they like it or not.

And I REFUSE to have this ugly ass chord hanging out from my computer for the rest of it's life. No thank you.

I think living in Israel, and now, living on my own, has made me more aggressive. For the first time I can remember, I fought for what I think is right for ME. And I will win. I WILL. It's amazing to see what comes along with self-confidence. I guess it's somewhat of a silver lining to the situation.

I don't have time for bullshit, and this ugly chord is not one of the accessories I want for my computer.

I don't want to be dealing with this. But you can bet I'm gonna fight this one to the death.

Still Hungry

Today was my first day as a true singleton, waking up alone, spending the day alone, soon to go to sleep alone. It was actually a nice day, productive and healthy. I took a nice long walk to Lane Bryant, where I found 2 cute tops in a size 18/20, which I am still not used to picking out and buying. It's pretty cool though, when I can do it. The walk was a little over a mile each way, and gave me a chance to check out Steinway Street, one of Astoria's main drags.

I started the day with yogurt, fruit, and iced coffee.
I had a lunch of a spinach, tomato, celery, carrot and green pepper salad, with oil and balsamic vinegar. Also a couple of Wasa crackers and a Laughing Cow wedge.

When I came home from my walk, I was STARVING and craving carbs. So I ate one of the fantastic whole wheat mini-bagels from the bagel place down the street (a legit NY style bagel that's the size of a Lender's bagel--2 WW points--and a wonderful thing) with a tiny bit of Smart Balance spread.

Then I ate some more Wasa Crackers, with about a tablespoon of natural, no sugar peanut butter.

Then I decided I needed to get out of the house again so I wouldn't eat myself out of house and home, so I went to the amazing fruit stand down the street to stock up for the week.

Then I came home and made a delicious ratatouille-style veggie dish, with 2 ounces of whole wheat pasta and some chicken breast for protein.

Then I ate a tiny bit more PB before I hid it in the back of the fridge so it couldn't get me into any more trouble.

Then I ate a tiny bite of the No Pudge brownies I made yesterday when I was craving chocolate.

Then I felt the need to take another walk and stopped at McDonalds for an ice cream cone. I hate to admit this, but McDonalds ice cream is one of my vices...it's completely satisfying in the summertime and I only blow 3 points for the entire cone. Yeah, yeah, I'm getting lots of sugar and simple carbs and chemicals that I don't need. But it's sure worth it every time.

And now I feel like Miss Piggy. Not that there's anything wrong with Miss Piggy. She is Gal's power animal, after all. I just feel like I did so well at the beginning of the day and botched it all up by the end. I literally feel fatter now than I did when I woke up this morning. Is that a bad sign? A sign that maybe this is becoming more than a healthy hobby?

If I begin my day with more complex carbs, will I crave them less at the end of the day, when they're harder to digest?

Today is one of those "Why can't I just be skinny???" kinds of days. When I just want to pity myself and chop off pieces of flab with a machete. Do thin people think like this? I know I'm not the only fat person who does...

At least my food for the day (well, minus the ice cream) had a ton of good nutrition. And I got over 2 miles of walking in today. And I now own 2 tops that are a size smaller than the majority in my closet. And I survived a whole day of living completely alone.

All good things.
All small accomplishments.
All part of a healthy, normal life.

It's okay to still feel crappy about myself once in awhile, right?

And I'm still hungry.

Changes

It's been a long time since I last posted. So much has happened, so much has changed. Much of it good, some of it not so good (at least for now) and some of it totally indifferent. I've needed time to process it all and to adjust to this new and very different life.

Last Sunday I moved to New York. Thank goodness I'm living in Astoria, Queens, outside of Manhattan. We accidently got lost in Manhattan on our way to and from Jersey the other day, and the intensity of the atmosphere is so much to handle. As we made our way back towards Queens, I could feel that pressures of the city lifting; once again we saw air and real people and trees and life that doesn't exist around cell phones and business people. I couldn't handle that kind of lifestyle just yet--I need a year or more to adjust to NYC life.

My apartment is cute. My neighborhood is even cuter. But so far, I am the ONLY HUC'er I know who doesn't live in Brooklyn or in the city. It takes an hour on the subway to get to Brooklyn. I was invited to a movie night at a friends house tonight, and the idea of traveling an hour to get there, and then an hour to get home, alone, in the dark, is totally frightening. I know I'll have to do it once school starts, and I know I'd be completely fine and safe, but I just don't feel ready for it yet.

I am living alone, all by myself, for the first time in my life. I love being alone; I love the opportunity to do things my way, to buy and cook and eat my own food, do the dishes and clean up at my convenience. But it sure gets lonely and boring sometimes. And I keep thinking about what will happen the first time I see a mouse in the apartment or when something breaks and the super isn't there or when God forbid I fall and crack my head open. I will be alone. All alone. My classmates and friends far away, in the city or in Brooklyn.

I am scared to death to be living here, in this cute apartment in Queens, far from home and most people I know and love, all by myself. When my brother left this afternoon I came in and had a total breakdown.

Is this what being a grown up is all about?

And then there are fears about school, about being on the most intense campus with the most intense of my classmates in this way-too-intense city. I'm not an academic. I get things, after reading and re-reading and re-re-reading and lots of looking stuff up and mapping it out for myself. It takes me time to learn, time I don't always seem to have. The people I go to school with seem to have photogenic memories that allow them to soak in all of the academia we need to learn. Many of them then feel the need to show off their intelligence, leaving the rest of us behind to wonder what the hell they're talking about. I just wish they'd stop trying so hard to show off and just let their natural beauty and talents shine through. Being a Jewish leader isn't only about intellect, after all.

In the craziness of moving, my eating has been in terrible shape. I've felt the need to sample food from all of the cute little bakeries and restaurants around me and have stopped counting points completely. I try to go for a walk everyday, drink plenty of water, and climb my steps a few times a day, but I know it isn't enough.

I need time to figure all this crap out.

Again.

There's a heavy load on my shoulders right now, so it's going to take a lot of resolve and determination to stay with this.

I canceled my WW subscription, just for now.
I will get back on it, I promise you and myself.
I just need time to adjust, to feel ready again, to get into some kind of routine, to let this crazy part of the world begin to feel normal to me.

I want to trust that it will. But until trust comes, all I have is hope.

Sweet Girl

Tikva Ahava passed away last night, 3 days shy of becoming 2 months old.
My heart hurts, not so much for her as I know she is finally at peace and in perfect health.
But for her parents, big sister, family, and everyone who loves her, my heart is heavy and sad.
I wish so badly I could somehow take the away the pain that her family is feeling.
But I know I can't, nor can anyone else.

It's been a stressful week here, packing up my stuff and running a million little errands.
I am excited to leave, though I am finding it difficult to want to accomplish anything that needs to be done in order to board the plane on Sunday morning.
I've also been eating terribly this week, going out to dinner with various people every night.
A great way to say goodbye, an awful way to keep up with my weight-loss plan.
I need to give my body time to adjust to moving and the stress of school before I can really, truly start back on the program.
I have every intention of doing so.
For myself more than anyone, but especially now for Tikva.
She's my partner in this journey.
With her, I can do anything.

You are an amazing spirit, sweet girl.
You have forever changed me--thank you for that.
I talked about you and your family tonight, as I proudly gave my first sermon.
My whole community is praying for you and loving you and your family.
Thank you for being an inspiration, a light.
You will be forever loved and cherished by many people.

I know you still have big plans for everyone who loved you.
And I am excited to see them unravel as the years go by.

I am so lucky to be one of the millions who loved you, who still and always will love you.
Thank you, Tikva.

Thursday Night Report...And Some Prayers

Down a pound. Again.

I'm not going to be negative, as I am blessed to have lost a pound and have a functioning, healthy body. But I can't lie, with all the careful counting and strenuous exercise I've been doing, I am a little disappointed with the results. 1 pound--it seems like nothing after a week's worth of hard, sometimes excruciating work. But, as I've said before, even 1 pound is so much better than nothing.

Sometimes, for no reason at all, it hits me just how big my job of taking off all of this weight really is. I've already done a huge amount of work and there is still so much to do. I need to lose at least another 80 lbs to be healthy, 104 more to reach my goal of 150 lbs. I know I will get there, but the thought of continuing this work for at least another year is overwhelming and exhausting. Sometimes, as I am trying to fall asleep, I pray to God that I will wake up tomorrow morning 100 pounds lighter, just like that. I know it will never happen, but it sure would be nice.

Sometimes I wonder if God has been getting God's signals crossed as of late. I asked God to make my struggle harder so Tikva's could be easier, and yet God is making both of us work harder than ever right now. Today, as I sweat and gasped for air next to an old friend at the gym, I told him about the deal I made with God to help Tikva, in hopes that maybe putting the actual words out there for all to hear would help God to understand my request. I am praying it works, that Tikva wakes up tomorrow feeling good and breathing easily. Please God, help her. PLEASE GOD, HELP TIKVA.

I wonder sometimes how God knows which prayers to answer and when. How does God know which prayers are the most crucial versus which ones can wait a bit or not be answered at all?

When I think of what Tikva and others are going through, my prayers for my weight loss seem so unimportant and silly. Maybe as of late, God is listening more to my and others prayers for those in the midst of important healing, which is why my weight-loss has slowed down a little bit.

I'm more than OK with that. God knows what God is doing.

Please God, keep working to heal that baby who means so much to so many.
Please continue to hold her in Your palm, as her parents trust You have done all along.
Please give her strength to heal and breathe, and give her parents the strength to continue their important support for Tikva's healing.
Please God, give Tikva what she needs, whenever she needs it.

And God, if You have time (and I understand if You don't,) hold me and guide me along my own important journey. I can't do this without You.

Intense

I just got back from a therapy session, one of the most intense and powerful of them all. As I type this, my heart is still racing and my hands are still shaking from the meditation exercise Esther guided me in. She seems to think that when problems are brought to the surface by meditation, it is easier to let them go, to let them release from my mind and body and soul. She brought up something so powerful today, something that is always there in the back of my mind, something I don't let myself feel on a regular basis because of what I experienced a few minutes ago.

After a period of deep breathing, she asked me to find something in my soul that caused me distress. Not to try hard to find it--just to concentrate on whatever came up. Immediately, without a thought, I began to envision all the men in my life who've caused me to be afraid of love. I could see their faces and hear their voices, I could remember all of the moments I've been trying so hard to forget.

One by one, they started popping into my head: My grandpa, with his words of ugliness and incompetency. My dad, with his moodiness and violent streaks and how we needed to walk on eggshells to not upset him. Andrew, my first "love", who repeatedly told me he would give any girl a chance, but laughed at the thought of loving me (despite my confessed love to him.) Wil, my old therapist, with whom I'd had a major breakthrough, finally letting down my walls and trusting him, only to hear that he was leaving the office and couldn't be my therapist anymore.

As I sat there, hearing the voices and seeing the faces and reliving moments I so desperately wanted to forget, I could feel my muscles clench and my eyes water. I could feel my brow furrowing itself into a headache. I could feel my heart rate and breath rapidly increase as though I was having a panic attack. I felt confined in my body, as though I couldn't move. As I went on, the voices got louder and the faces got bigger. I was right back in those places I thought I never needed to revisit. All I could think was "get me away from here!" and yet I couldn't leave. I needed to stay and face it and physically push the memories away. It took me a good 20 or so minutes to really relax enough to even talk about my experience.

There are reasons why I can not open up to men and be myself around them. There are reasons why I put up walls and feel uncomfortable. These memories I faced today, and am still facing now, are those reasons. The feelings of incompetency, of abandonment, of trying so hard to please my grandpa and make Andrew love me, all of them spinning in my brain again and coming back to the surface. They need to go. They need to be free so I can let myself trust and love and share with another human being. They need to be let loose so I don't have to be afraid to trust and love and share with myself.

THIS is what I've been waiting for and working towards.

I didn't know it could be this hard, that I'd been suppressing these memories and feelings for so long. I know it is going to continue to be hard work to let all of this go. I want to say that I am 100% ready to take it all on, but I just don't know if I can handle it right now, in the midst of moving to NYC, starting over, going back to school.

But I can do it, because my soul needs me to. And because my soul mate--wherever he may be right now--needs me to.

I am mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. My head still aches from the pressure it was under. I feel the need for a good dinner, a good cry, and maybe a book or movie to take my mind off of everything.

I don't ask for this often, but if you pray, please pray that I will have the strength to let this all go like I need to.

Goals for the Week

1. To drink as much water as possible--I'm beginning to wonder if my constant hunger (and it is legitimate hunger, not emotional eating or anything like that) is not a result of exercising too much, but of not drinking enough water and being dehydrated. Will be interesting to see what happens.
2. To get on the tough monster of a machine every day this week for a full 15 minutes.
3. To finally get my pants and new little black dress to a tailor for alterations.
4. To FINALLY finish the liturgy paper that has been hanging over my head all year long.
5. To sing through a few pieces of the HHD music that will soon become a huge, exciting challenge.
6. To pray every day. Pray for myself, for others, for the world, and for the beautiful being who urgently needs God to hold her right now. To find time to just be with God.
7. To remember these words and keep share them with anyone who might need to hear them:

"Hope is the thing with feathers--That perches in the soul--And sings the tune without the words--And never stops--at all."
~Emily Dickinson

How Much Good Can YOU Do?

This morning at the gym, for no particular reason, I decided to hop on a machine I had struggled through and given up on when I first started my routine a few weeks ago. Something was drawing me back to this machine, and while I didn't know why at first, I decided to listen to that something and try the machine again. I stepped on the pedals, played with the buttons as I set my weight and distance, and all of the sudden it hit me. I needed to be on this machine to struggle, to huff and puff and blow lots of good healthy air towards my friend Tikva. Tikva, born June 10, has been thriving and amazing everyone around her despite life-threatening circumstances. Her mom, Gal, sent out a request for specific visions and prayers to help Tikva breathe easily, digest her healthy milk and formula without reflux, and continue to thrive and amaze all of the people in her life. As I stepped onto this machine, I realized that I could do my part to help Tikva by asking God to temporarily allow ME to struggle for her while I exercised. For 15 minutes, I decided to huff and puff and sweat and struggle as hard as I could so that Tikva could take a break and breathe easily. I don't know how it turned out on Tikva's end, but for me, my prayer resulted in an amazing and empowering workout. I did struggle non-stop while on the machine, but I made it through, smiling hugely as I pictured Tikva's gorgeous face and strong, healthy lungs.

So I have a charge for any of you who read this: Whenever you workout or challenge yourself physically, take a minute to ask God to let YOU struggle so that sweet baby girl can breathe easily for the duration of your exercise. Send her all of the good, strong breaths you can exhale. Push yourself as hard as you can so she can relax and enjoy the simple pleasure of non agitated breathing.

Imagine the good we could do for Tikva and her family if we all came together to do this for her.

As you exercise and pray, remind yourself and God that You're With Tikva. I know I am :)

Take THAT

To my surprise, after the bitter post about last night's horrible dinner experience, I woke up right away this morning, full of energy and ready to start the day. Too bad I couldn't go to the gym this morning (I am singing a shabbat service in a few minutes, and I don't like to exercise so close to when I sing--I'm planning on hitting the gym this afternoon, no worries.) Instead, I decided to cook myself a huge and hearty yet still low-points breakfast. I threw some diced green pepper and white onion into a pan, sauteed them until they were tender, and then added a few egg whites and scrambled it all. I finished them off with half a piece of Trader Joe's amazing low fat cheddar cheese (what did I do this past year without Trader Joe's? SERIOUSLY.) I sliced a beautiful tomato from the farmer's market and crisped up a Trader Joe's Whole Wheat and Flaxseed tortilla to make some baked tortilla chip like things and that was my breakfast. I am SO FULL right now of protein, whole grains, vitamins and nutrients and feel ready to take on my shabbat service and a busy Saturday.

I ate an entire dinner sized plate full of delicious food for...

4.5 points.

3 egg whites=1 point
1/2 piece of TJ's lowfat cheddar=1 point
1/4 tsp olive oil for sauteeing=0.5 point
1 TJ's Whole Wheat and Flaxseed tortilla=2 points
1/2 green pepper=0 points
1/2 white onion=0 points
1 gorgeous locally grown tomato=0 points

Take that, Growler's!

Restaurants

Restaurants, wake up and get a fucking clue.

It is NOT okay to charge me $11 for a plain chicken breast and dinky spoonful of rice. I could easily make the same thing at home for under $3.
It is NOT okay to charge $15 for a 6 oz piece of fish (tilapia...the salmon was even more expensive) when the 8 oz burger is half the price.
It is NOT okay to ignore my requests to leave the cheese and croutons off my salad and then give me a plate so I can remove the bad stuff myself instead of making me a new salad. Especially when you don't promptly return to take the plate away, giving me the opportunity to eat the delicious homemade croutons I love (and of course I ate every single one of them and now feel as though I let some silly stale pieces of butter-soaked bread break my strong resolve--which is exactly what happened.)
It is NOT okay to not have a healthy option on your menu that isn't a salad (which, given the bleu cheese, eggs, bacon, croutons, and high-fat dressing, isn't even a healthy option.)
It is NOT okay to make me feel like a pain in the ass for requesting healthier options instead of french fries or gloppy potato salad.
It is NOT okay to not make an effort to please your customers, to leave them feeling depressed, bad about themselves, and hugely disappointed in this world that seems to constantly ridicule and discourage fat people--especially when they're working like hell to not be fat people anymore.

And even though I know I'm right, there's still a little voice inside my head that says, "Tracy, it's just food."

I am an emotional eater. After years of denying it, there it is.

It infuriates me to know that what I really wanted for dinner I will probably never be allowed to eat again. It saddens me to realize this particular restaurant is just another one I will have to cross of my list. It aggravates me to know that even when I do allow myself to indulge, all I can think about is how bad the calories are and how much I shouldn't be eating whatever it is I am eating. It brings me to tears to watch my mom eat a delicious hamburger and homemade potato chips while I eat yet another boring chicken breast and salad.

And yet, all it is is ONE meal. ONE out of the THOUSANDS of meals I will eat in my lifetime. No need for emotional attachment, yet it is completely there and not willing to let go.

I am tired and need to sleep. Maybe more on this tomorrow.

Thursday Night Report

Instead of working out today, I decided to give myself a break after job #1 and go to my WW meeting this afternoon.

I lost 1 pound in 2 weeks. Considering I've been busting my ass at the gym almost every day the past 14 days, I was a little disappointed with the numbers. But, everyone has weeks like this, and the way that I've been eating hasn't been as great as it could have been. And between the Bat Mitzvah and my birthday and my homemade lower-fat banana bread (which I tend to forget still has calories and fat grams) I can't say I'm all that surprised. Ah, well, life goes on. 1 pound down is a lot better than 1 pound up!

This week has been a busy one, as I've been working 2 jobs, preparing Shabbatot to sing for, house-sitting, and working on my still unfinished liturgy paper and sermon for Aug 8. It's getting to the point where I can see how tough it is to track points and make sure I get to the gym as often as possible. I guess I'd forgotten what real life is like (i.e. what life will be like once I get into the swing of school again) and I realized that I am going to have to work extra hard to maintain and lose more weight.

I know I should be up for the challenge.
I know I should be enthusiastic about my new healthy ways.
I know I should be envisioning the Tracy I want to see in another year.
I know, I know, I know.

But for now, the thought of adding on to my gym routine (which is already kicking my ass) or giving up any more food or trying any sort of new technique is completely exhausting. It's hard to want to do more, though I realize as the numbers on the scale get smaller I am going to have to work harder to keep them decreasing.

I think for today, until I get over this gloomy patch, I am going to think about today.
Right here, right now.
What I need to do to make today the healthiest day it can be.

There are definitely days where the future looks bright, where I can envision myself thinner and healthier and stronger.
Today just isn't one of them.
And every now and then, I am okay with having one of those days.

-83.