Things My Dad Taught Me

Measure twice, cut once – Good advice I’ve used often.

He said it was better to look a fool, than open my mouth and remove all doubt –  I found this helpful, and repeated it in mantra form on the occasion I forgot to use this advice.

He said little girls were meant to be seen and not heard…..Nice try Dad – I’ll let that one slide.

I was his oldest girl, but as hard a worker and as tough as any son would have been.

He taught me sense of direction, by sending me to the shop to retrieve a Philips screwdriver from the north workbench, when it would have been easier to say, “near the clutch press” I knew what that was, but I always know what direction I’m headed – even if sometimes its only forward.

He chaperoned my 8^th grade field trip to the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry – which meant spending a day with a gaggle of 13 year-old girls, who weren’t so interested in the sites – Brave Man.

He even attempted to teach me to drive stick in the little red truck after his knee surgery – really brave man.

My Dad can build and/or fix anything, i.e.… my 1979 Mercury Cougar XR7, that Cheryl and I blew up the engine ….ooops.

Together we built a life size replica Suffolk Ewe, the mascot on my float as Green County Lamb and Wool Queen.  He drove me in countless parades.

He taught me work ethic, by making me put snowmobiles together and shine up the ones in the showroom. I was sent out to dig countless thistles in five acre fields, untangle morning glories from nearly strangled corn, cut hay, disc, mow lawn, and fill the bunk.

He taught me to respect equipment, to think and to problem solve.  He taught me to never wear jelly shoes on the farm, and when I didn’t listen and smashed my toe with a metal fence and a cement block. He taught me how to deal with pain and suffer through the consequences.

                Finger pointed at me, face angry “You will go to your event tonight and walk in those heels like nothing’s wrong,” he growled, as I was off to the Green County Pork Dinner, to help out as Lamb and Wool Queen, with my broken toe in pink pumps – I survived.  

He taught me leadership, to stand up for myself, to believe in myself, and to vote for whoever I thought the best candidate was. He watched me make countless mistakes, and dusted me off when I screw up (which was a lot). He offered advice sparingly and even though my best days are still to come, he’s told me numerous times that he’s proud of me.

                I’ve learned a lot from my dad! Hope you have a happy Fathers day, Daddy – I love you!

Weight Loss by Osmosis…..         

10 years ago I was a svelte 115 pounds. I walked into any store and bought a size small, no need to try it on.  I didn’t need a workout routine, I waitressed.  Always on the go.  I was 30 and loving it, young and beautiful – rockin the size 5 jeans. 

10 years, two kids, and a desk job later…..things have changed.  I buy Shopko jeans, with the make-you-thinner-panel.  I gaze longingly at the small section and go try on the bigger stuff…and occasionally get stuck in a shirt that I was sure would fit, but I will probably have to dislocate my shoulder to get out of.

I gained 60 pounds with Dante, and lost all but 10…not bad. I gained 50 pounds with Isaiah and lost all but 10. Then over the next 6 years I managed to find 15 more pounds.  I am now shaped like an unattractive fruit…. (Pear). I have the dreaded muffin top, the mini-Michelin man rolls, and the ever so come hither cottage cheese thighs….sexy.

I know, if you didn’t know me back then you’d probably say, what’s she whining about? I don’t look horrible, my friend Dawn will tell me, “Your weight does not define you,” and she’s right.  I have no one to impress – I’m married, I’ve got two amazing kids. What more could I ask for? A small pair of jeans, a tiny waist, a flat stomach….. The list goes on.

So what’s a girl to do? Well let me tell you. I own at least 7 get fit videos: Jillian Michael’s, Pilates, belly dancing, yoga…you get the picture.  At least 3 of them are actually out of the plastic they came in.  I own nearly every “As seen on T.V.” gadget you can think of. Exercise balls, weights, resistance bands, pushup thingy’s, Leg Magic machine, and a few ab devices.  Most of which are still in boxes, collecting dust, or used as drying racks for my freshly laundered clothes.

I own multiple diet books: South beach, From Belly Fat to Belly Flat, The Flat Belly Diet, The 17 Day Diet, and Turn Up the Heat is on its way in Saturday’s mail…..apparently sleeping with these books under my pillow does not offer the desired effect.  It is clear to me that I may actually have to get off my arse and workout.  

Oh, did I mention the Fit Flops, and the Sketcher Shape-ups, neither of which has made my ass look smaller, though very comfortable shoes. And if you offered to sell me a stick from your back yard, touting its magical fat removing properties, I would likely pay you top dollar for that mystical devise.

I’ve inquired about getting a treadmill desk at work, but that was denied.  So now I’m going to guilt myself into shaping up. 

Am I obese at 40? No. Do I look horrible? No. But if I keep gaining my average of 4+ pounds a year, come 50 ...things are not going to be so pretty.

Being slender and looking hot, will be a by-product.  Lowering my blood pressure, getting healthy, feeling good about myself, and having more energy to keep up with my monkeys….that is the desired end result.  I’m not looking for a specific number on the scale (personally I’d be happy if it stopped skittering across the bathroom floor when it sees me. Or the grunt it makes when I step on – one person only please – stupid scale) but I do want the reflection in the mirror to smile back at me, every morning. I want to be comfortable in my own skin again.

I'm going to log my progress here, maybe daily, maybe weekly. Check back and see.