At a meeting the other day I mentioned that I was closing in on sixty years old. Later, I was approached by several folks who told me I did not look anywhere close to sixty; mid-forties tops.
It’s wonderful what estrogen has done for my skin. But there is a down side. It feeds into a notion I have that there is plenty of time before I “have” to get healthy. Sure, the body sends me little messages to the contrary; small aches and pains, bladder infections, a weird rash on my ankle and high blood pressure. But half a dozen prescriptions keep all that in check, feeding the illusion there is yet still time to get the life I really want and live into my eighties. “Hay siempre mañana,” there is always tomorrow.
But a fresh coat of paint doesn’t do jack if the wood underneath is rotting. At any moment, despite the best attempts at detection, my body could send me a new reminder of my lengthy abuse; a stroke, heart attack, diabetes, cancer or God knows what; a message beyond the reach of “take two and call me in the morning.”
I can imagine my despair; all those todays I pushed into mañana now unobtainable, the bridge between them having collapsed. I can’t see myself as the brave convalescent; dedicated to arduous and painful therapy to recapture a small fraction of mobility or speech or cognition. I would likely sit in my chair, sipping a drink, watching television and wondering what was for dinner.
Much like the life I have now.
Hay siempre mañana.
Take Care,
Billie
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Hurley
I heard something the other day that intrigued me. The person said that we carry our fate with us; that circumstances don’t affect it, only we can change our fate by changing who we are.
My earliest memory of being ridiculed for being fat is the 3rd grade. During elementary school, my parents put me on diets. My father would punish me if the scales didn’t show a reduction. I wore “husky” jeans, often several inches too long so the waist would fit. In high school, I had the nick name Billie Moon because my face was round and chubby. My self image was fat because everyone around me said I was fat.
Adulthood brought no relief. Controlling my weight was a constant struggle; in the Army, in the dating scene, to fit into my wedding suit, as a partner, as a father and now as a divorced woman. Since the late 80’s, it has been a losing battle; most of that time spent over 400 pounds. The 50 years since my first “hey fatso” appear to support the notion that we carry our fate with us regardless of the circumstances. There is nothing we can do; there is no place we can go that will change fate.
Even losing more than 100 pounds didn’t change my fate. I have done that three times since 1989. The latest loss was 185 pounds in 2001. But by Christmas, 2003 I was over 400 pounds, again. Fate has cursed me with some morbid propensity and plunked me in the middle of a society that deifies food and has no shortage of same. And now I have the additional burdens of age, gravity and estrogen conspiring to seal my fate unto death do we part. Perhaps I should accept the inevitable and surrender, get one of those electric scooters and ride into the sunset and a double-wide casket.
Perhaps I would except for Hurley.
In the television series “Lost,” Hurley believes he is cursed with bad luck since winning a lottery. The “curse” controls his life. In an inspiring scene, Hurley and friends find an old VW Microbus, but the battery is dead. Hurley hopes to jump start it by rolling it down a steep hill and popping the clutch. It’s a dangerous gamble. Nonetheless, Hurley flips fate the bird with faith that he can get the van to run. As the Microbus hurdles down the hill, Hurley says over and over, “There is no curse, we make our own luck.” You can watch the scene at the YouTube link below.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwZOmB9Fi30&feature=PlayList&p=28849ED323C7D9FC&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=24
It’s time to make my own luck, tell fate to FO and start living thin, live the life I want, fight through the pain and fatigue and do the things I want to do, be who I want to be; right now, today.
There is no curse.
Take Care,
Billie
My earliest memory of being ridiculed for being fat is the 3rd grade. During elementary school, my parents put me on diets. My father would punish me if the scales didn’t show a reduction. I wore “husky” jeans, often several inches too long so the waist would fit. In high school, I had the nick name Billie Moon because my face was round and chubby. My self image was fat because everyone around me said I was fat.
Adulthood brought no relief. Controlling my weight was a constant struggle; in the Army, in the dating scene, to fit into my wedding suit, as a partner, as a father and now as a divorced woman. Since the late 80’s, it has been a losing battle; most of that time spent over 400 pounds. The 50 years since my first “hey fatso” appear to support the notion that we carry our fate with us regardless of the circumstances. There is nothing we can do; there is no place we can go that will change fate.
Even losing more than 100 pounds didn’t change my fate. I have done that three times since 1989. The latest loss was 185 pounds in 2001. But by Christmas, 2003 I was over 400 pounds, again. Fate has cursed me with some morbid propensity and plunked me in the middle of a society that deifies food and has no shortage of same. And now I have the additional burdens of age, gravity and estrogen conspiring to seal my fate unto death do we part. Perhaps I should accept the inevitable and surrender, get one of those electric scooters and ride into the sunset and a double-wide casket.
Perhaps I would except for Hurley.
In the television series “Lost,” Hurley believes he is cursed with bad luck since winning a lottery. The “curse” controls his life. In an inspiring scene, Hurley and friends find an old VW Microbus, but the battery is dead. Hurley hopes to jump start it by rolling it down a steep hill and popping the clutch. It’s a dangerous gamble. Nonetheless, Hurley flips fate the bird with faith that he can get the van to run. As the Microbus hurdles down the hill, Hurley says over and over, “There is no curse, we make our own luck.” You can watch the scene at the YouTube link below.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwZOmB9Fi30&feature=PlayList&p=28849ED323C7D9FC&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=24
It’s time to make my own luck, tell fate to FO and start living thin, live the life I want, fight through the pain and fatigue and do the things I want to do, be who I want to be; right now, today.
There is no curse.
Take Care,
Billie
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