Friday, March 28, 2014

The Fat Girl Who Lives in My Head...

You know, when I moved to the beach a year and a half ago, no one knew me here. No one. Not a soul. There was no one who had watched me grow up, who knew my parents, who had seen my past relationships, who had seen my high school fat pictures.

That’s right. Fat pictures. Let’s face it. Most people have some, usually from that middle to high school time of life. As a teenager I was overweight by roughly 40lbs. I’m a tiny girl, only 5’ 4” with a very small frame. I remember falling onto the couch one time and being in an odd position, I was not able to get up.

Yeah. I try not to think about those days.

But I lost the weight, all 40lbs. And do you know how I did it? I exercised. I ate right. I worked my butt off (literally). I denied myself chocolate (and nearly every other sweet) for 5 years straight. I sacrificed. And it was hard, one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. But it was worth it.

Now today, I weigh right at my target weight, give or take a couple pounds. And I know that I’m thin, however, let me tell you something: the fat girl who lives in my brain is never going to go away. I’m conscious of every spoonful of food that goes in my mouth. I cringe at the way I look in my spandex ballet leotard. I still sometimes sit with a pillow over my stomach because I’m self-conscious of any rolls that might be there.

I get made fun of for these little quirks more often than you might think. My friends who make comments about my self-consciousness mean well. I think in a way they are trying to make me feel better or point out that I’m at a healthy weight. But do you know how they actually make me feel?

Bad. Just bad.

Most of the people who make comments are friends who didn't know me in my fat days. They've never seen me with extra weight on. When they look at me, they don’t know that I’m a girl who fights every day of her life to keep the weight off. They don’t know about the hundreds of sit-ups that I do daily to fight off the bulge. All they see is a skinny girl, who has always been skinny and can eat whatever she wants.

And although you might mean well, just like you wouldn't make fun of someone for being overweight, don’t tease someone who being skinny either, saying things like “Look at you! You could eat whatever you want!” because you automatically downgrade that person’s experience, that person’s struggles.

And if you too find yourself to be struggling with weight, I understand. I know where you are coming from. I’ve been there. You can make it through this. You can lose the weight. But just remember, you aren't the only one with this struggle, so please don’t put down other people because you think that they don’t understand what you’re going through. Chances are that that skinny girl on the beach has been right where you are at some point in her life.  

Thursday, March 20, 2014

What I Learned (or didn't learn) From 90's Pop


Growing up on 90’s (and early 00’s) pop can mess with your head a little. Not convinced? Take a look at what a few of the more popular songs of the time had to say about dating:

Christina Aguilera: Genie in a Bottle:
If you wanna be with me
Baby there's a price to pay
I'm a genie in a bottle
You gotta rub me the right way

And how about this little gem?

The Spice Girls: Wannabe:
If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,(gottagetwithmyfriends!)

Did anyone ever find out what a “zigazig ah” is? Or is it right up there with the mysteries of the world, like where is Waldo REALLY? And what the heck is a “hollaback girl?” These are the unsolved mysteries, my friend.

Oh! And let’s not forget my personal favorite:

The Backstreet Boys: As Long as You Love Me:
I don't care who you are
Where you're from
What you did
As long as you love me

Well, first of all. I am not a genie in a bottle. Please do not “rub me.” I find that highly disturbing. And contrary to popular 90’s belief, if you want to be with me, please do not “get with” my friends. That will just end badly. And I hate to disagree with all the wisdom of the almighty Backstreet Boys (all hail!), but I do care who you are and where you are from because I’m not into this whole “wow, we just met and I know nothing about you, but let’s get together!” stuff.

You know, I've tried the “instant dating” thing before, where I met someone randomly, gave him my number, and then within a short period of time, we were together. And do you know what? I got my heart broken repeatedly, because I didn't really know who he was. And when issues started to come out, we fell apart, because we were never really friends to begin with, so we had nothing to fall back on once the initial romance was over.

I've learned from that. I know better. So can we rewrite some of these songs? How about this?
I do care who you are,
Where you’re from,
What you did,
Because I’m not okay with a prison record.

Or how about:
If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get to know me for a little while
Just so I can make sure you’re not crazy...

And I’m not even going to attempt Genie in a Bottle. Let's just not go there...


Monday, March 10, 2014

God vs. Charles Dickens

I remember the first time I read Great Expectations. I closed the book and simply stood there in awe of it: the plot twists, the meandering story lines, the characters, and the incredible surprises that the author interwove throughout the entire story. If I had been wearing a hat, I would have taken it off in honor to the author. I have yet to find another story as well-written or as intricately woven as that one.

And today I was hit with a parallel: life is a lot like a well-written story. When I look at my life, I see the incredible good, with the horrendous bad. I mean, take this week for example. Just when I had thought I would never hear from a couple different people again, or thought I’d never actually get to know someone, suddenly things changed and I found myself sitting next to those people, chatting and having a great time.

Then yesterday, I was hanging out with a dear friend of mine, and she, being the crazy-wonderful person that she is, talked me into giving a guy, a complete stranger, my number. I don’t do that kind of thing normally, yet, it was thrilling and daring, and it filled me with life.

And then there are days like today where I randomly meet my ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend. And she was nice and sweet, and I felt bad for her, because she doesn't know that he cheated on me to be with her.

And although I was filled with turmoil inside of me, God worked a tiny little miracle, and had someone pray for me, asking for exactly what I needed at that moment: peace.

So even while my heart was hurting, there was something inside of me, tugging at me, saying, “There is so much more than this. There is so much greater. You are meant for so much more than this trivial stuff.” And I felt this peace flow through me, and I recognized it, because it was so much more than peace, it was joy. It was that same joy that has always been in me; the joy of the Lord.

And I look at God a lot like I looked at Dickens when I read his masterpiece. I’m in awe of how God has woven together the fibers of my life, the good ones and the bad ones. And I can’t even get mad when the bad ones ruin my day, because I see it as a whole. When I stand back and look at the plot-line of my life, I’m amazed by God’s authorship, and His ability to tell this great story that is my life. And I’m honored to get to play a role in that.


So even on days like today, I love my life. You just can’t make this stuff up.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Money Can't Buy Happiness, But it Can Buy Victoria's Secret...(and that's kind of the same thing)

Pretty much all of last year I blogged about “the gap.” No. I am not talking about the clothing store (note the lower case letters). I was talking about a gap, a hole within myself. It was something that I felt after Matt and I broke up.

I tried desperately all summer and fall to fill that gap. I tried to fill it with friends. I tried to fill it with a rebound boyfriend. I tried to fill it with Victoria’s Secret.

And let me tell you, none of those things were able to make that gap go away, although, I have to admit, Victoria’s came the closest. I mean, seriously, how can anyone be sad when walking out of the store carrying that pink stripped bag, overflowing with pink and red tissue paper? Psh! Not this girl! So yes, VS did a better job of filling “the gap,” than even the rebound boyfriend did.

But, getting back on track here, I remember sitting at my favorite park several months ago, pondering that aching void within me, wondering what I could put in it. I realized then that the more I tried to fill that gap, the wider it grew.

Well yesterday I went back to the park for the first time in months. It was a warm day. I had just come back from an amazing church service at a new church. And now here I was, all alone, sitting outside reading The Beautiful and the Damned.

And you know what I discovered? I was SO happy. I have been happy for several weeks now, I’d even venture to say all year so far. Yet, I hadn't really stopped to think about the happiness. So, here I was, back at my favorite epiphany spot, and I knew right then and there that the gap had closed. The wound has scabbed over, and I am no longer a broken person. I am whole again.

A situation that would have made me sad a few months ago, sitting all alone at a park, spending the day in only my own company, actually made me happy. I realized that I wasn't alone and I wasn't lonely. I felt satisfied with myself. For the first time in my life, I’m finally okay with me, myself, and I.

Now that’s not to say that I wouldn't have loved to have had some company. If a friend had come along, I would have enjoyed that just as much, but the important thing is that, I didn't need anyone else to be happy.


And I think that’s a big deal.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

God's NOT Dead

“God’s not dead. He is surely alive.”

Those are the lyrics for one of the newest Newsboys songs, which is featured in the new movie God’s Not Dead, scheduled to be released in March. After I met with the Newsboys yesterday (I know, I have the best job ever!), I started to think about the concept of God being dead.

What an idea. I mean, that’s not something I think I've ever really thought about. God…being…dead? The fact that Christ died and then was resurrected to life is the foundation of our entire faith. How can God be dead?

He can’t. He is alive and well and “roaring like a lion,” as the song says. And He’s alive in me. I've seen miracles, little, everyday miracles. I've heard His voice—His very voice. I've seen His handwriting. And I've felt Him moving within me, speaking to me, guiding my steps and my life. And on dark nights, or when I’m walking alone, I can feel Him. His protection over me, around me, is an incredible force. I know I am watched over, protected.

And the number one reason why I know without a doubt that God is alive and well is the joy that I have within me. Life’s been hard. Yet, even when I've been unhappy, I've still been joyful. And I know that joy comes from God. I’m no theologian, but I know, deep down in my soul that the place where the joy resides is the same place where God’s Spirit resides in me.

And that joy has always been there. Sometimes it was hard to see because it was shrouded in my own depression and unhappiness, but even in my darkest moments, I knew that the joy was there, and that was all I needed to get through.

And I’m happy once again, but most of all, way deeper, way beyond this shallow happiness, is a much deeper joy that screams out, “God’s not dead, He is surely alive!”


And I can’t even begin to explain it. 

Monday, February 10, 2014

She Loved Him

This is a small section from my novel. I'm just trying out some repetition. What do you think?

She loved him in the way that we all love our first time: unselfishly, thoroughly, unreservedly. She loved him with all the strength and power of her youth, and with all the passion and abandon of a wild thing. She loved him quietly, in a reverent, cathedral-like way, the silence only interrupted by murmurs of her affection. Yet, at the same time, she loved him loudly, in a shout-it-from-the-rooftops kind of way. She loved him in a free, campfire-on-the beach way; a rolling-in-the-sand-on-a-blanket way; a running-until-you-are-breathless way. Her love for him was like the way a little girl plucks the petals off of a daisy, knowing without a doubt that the he-loves-me-not petals don’t even really exist. And she loved him for who he was, who he was becoming, and most of all for who he was going to be. Her youth and inexperience in life didn’t bridle her love as it might have, but instead, it gave it wings. And with those wings she soared, never thinking that she might have to land again one day—never caring. 

Thursday, February 6, 2014

A Really Weird Post Sort of About Doctor Who...But Not Really

From time to time I think that everybody struggles with the idea of their own mortality. I know that I do. I can hear it now, some of my friends are like, “You’re in your twenties! Why are you thinking about death?”

Well, I’m not really, but ever since I was 15 and spent a month attached to a heart monitor, I've lived with a today-could-be-the-last-day mentality. That’s why I’m such a driven person. I don’t want to waste my time. None of us know how long we have.

And I guess that recently it’s just gotten a little bit stronger. I have a very minor heart problem, and although it’s not something that is dangerous to me, it is something that I feel every day. Although as a twenty-something I have the mentality of “Oh! I want to go play, and run, and dance, and skate!” my heart is like, “Oh gosh I’m winded…Please give me a break!” And even though I really have little to worry about, it does make me feel and think about my own mortality at times.

Recently I've been totally swept up in Doctor Who mania and have been watching 2 or 3 episodes a day. Well, I finished the “first” season, and went on to the episode where the Doctor is finishing his regeneration (into David Tennant), and it made me think. When the Doctor regenerates, he passes from one physical form into another. His personality, his memories, and the essence of who he is never really goes away. He just changes physical form and sort of moves on into another life.

I think that this is a lot like what death is like for a Christian. If you are born again, you don’t have anything to fear in death. As 2 Corinthians 2-4 (NLT) says, We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long for the day when we will put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing. For we will not be spirits without bodies, but we will put on new heavenly bodies. Our dying bodies make us groan and sigh, but it's not that we want to die and have no bodies at all. We want to slip into our new bodies so that these dying bodies will be swallowed up by everlasting life.

It’s kind of like the Doctor. He never really dies, not in the traditional sense of what most people think of death, where a person passes from this life, never to be seen again. Instead, he just changes forms, receives a new body. And as Christians, it will be the same for us. We don’t need to fear death. We’ll just be “changing forms,” if you will, and passing on into a new sort of adventure—a better one, I think.


Don’t I just sound like a fun person to watch TV with? *winks*