By now y'all know that I'm a contestant in the Flab to Fab Challenge. The challenge started Monday and I'm fighting demons. It's not just the weight. It's what the weight represents. It represents years of self abuse. Of over indulgence. Of addiction. Of hiding emotions. Of avoiding challenges.
Each stretch mark on my body is a scar that goes deeper than skin can really show. They remind me that usually only pregnant women get them, and I am still no one's mother. The extra pounds on my stomach remind me of the good experiences I've had eating out with family and friends. Dates that Matt and I have been on. Birthdays and Anniversaries celebrated over steak. But they also remind me of all the times I've turned to food to ease stress. Times when I've come to terms with my weight only to be torn down by a friend, family member or complete stranger. Days when visits to the doctor meant being told that everything wrong with me is my own doing.
It is an uphill battle for me that goes far beyond being over weight.
I've never been able to do this before.
So I need help.
I need your support. I need friends, readers, family (and you are all my family) to cheer me on, because I need it. For as many people over my life who have teased me for my weight, I'll need at least two others to help build me back up during this process.
It's not about a prize at the end, because this journey will go beyond 8 weeks. This is about my life.
So I'm asking for help.
Check out my Flab to Fab blog where I will be writing about my experience and vlogging through this process. Yesterday was a good day, today was a bad day. I will be open there as I am here.
Actually it IS April. April Showers that is. And because she's totally awesome and generous (and a huge show off) she's going to be doing giveaways at her blog, April Showers, ALL during the month of April. So check her out, she always has something great to offer for giveaways!
I've been the peacemaker my whole life. In elementary school I let my best friend punch me in the eye because the thought of fighting her made me sad. I didn't even know why she was angry (aside from the fact that her new popular friends didn't like me). In middle school I was threatened on a constant basis by other girls just because I was white, had red hair, or happened to borrow a pencil from a guy someone else liked.
Even into adulthood I've been the peacemaker. I've been the person who will go out of her way to help others resolve a feud. I've been the person that keeps their mouth shut despite anger. I've done the same thing with my family members.
Despite my love for her, my little sister was a pain in the ass growing up. She was snotty and talked back a lot. But we never fought. Not once. I threatened her a few times, once causing her to lock herself in her bedroom for over three hours while I tried to pick the lock. But nothing ever happened. We never fought. And that's because I knew what the stress would do to our family. It just wasn't worth it.
I've allowed myself to be attacked a lot growing up. I never stood up for myself. I allowed my friends to call me "fat" in High School when I was half the size I am now. Because they thought it was funny, and telling them how I really felt would just cause drama.
I hate drama.
Girls are nothing but drama. I ache for my older sister who has 4 daughters!
So today was an odd day. As you all know, I was recently selected to be a part of a weight loss competition. A competition created by one of my best friends. 5 others were selected in addition to myself as well as the two creators of the competition (one of whom has publicly announced that if she actually wins it, she will be donating her prize to someone who is trying to lose weight outside the official game). And yet today, they have been attacked by some of the people who were not chosen. They've been accused of picking contestants due to religion, connections, and even something as simple as having had their blogs designed by one of the creators.
It feels like watching an episode of Biggest Loser.
I hate drama.
There are a few things I absolutely love about this competition I am in:
I have no idea what the prize is. They haven't announced yet. I could be competing for a granola bar right now, and guess what? It doesn't matter to me. Because my prize will be losing weight, gaining years on my life and hopefully, the ability to get pregnant.
There are no eliminations. Elimination shows stress me out. It forces people who are sometimes friends to turn against one another when in reality, as people (and especially women) we should be lifting one another up as high as we can. We have the world tearing us down too often, and us big girls especially, allow it to happen all too often because we already have low self worth.
There will not be one winner. There will be two winners. One who has lost the most weight. One who has physically changed the most. And even a winner who isn't a part of the official contest! Not to mention, in May when my group is done with our 8 week challenge, it starts all over again. New participants, new prizes, new lives being changed for the better!
One of my best friends wasn't chosen to be a part of the official "game", and she has been nothing but supportive of me. And I am supportive of her. I'm supportive of the girls I'm competing against, though we joke about sending one another boxes of donuts. I'm supportive of the girls who didn't make it into the "game" this round, because so many are doing it anyways and are going to change their lives. Hell, I'm even supportive of all the girls who are currently bashing my friends - though it pisses me off that they've chosen to be mean about it.
I support them because they are women, and they all have their own story. Some may be suffering from diseases and need to lose weight to save their lives. Some may have finally reached their breaking point and are now taking the chance to stand up and say, "I deserve to love myself!" And some, like me, may be working their hardest, physically and emotionally, through this journey in order to bring balance to their lives, health to their hearts, and a complete circle in their family.
This is what helps ease the drama.
Lives will be changed for the better.
I've been walked on for much of my whole life. Keeping my mouth shut when I should have spoken up. Keeping low when I should have stood tall.
And turning away when I could have easily looked myself in the mirror to say, "I deserve better!"
God bless everyone who is taking their own journey through life. I hope they are blessed with the knowledge of how to be safely guided to their own individual weight loss and health changes. I hope they make significant achievements in their journey and become inspiration for others to make similar changes in their lives.
And I hope that we can all aim high without needing to step on others to reach our goals.
Remember when I mentioned that I was applying to become a participant on the Flab to Flab weight loss challenge? Well they announced the official 8 contestants and I have been chosen to be one of them!
The contests officially begins on Monday so I have tonight and tomorrow to eat whatever I want. To be fair, I can still eat whatever I want, but now prizes, pride, glory and internet fame are involved. And y'all know how badly I crave attention. Almost as badly as I'm going to be craving Pepsi for the next eight weeks.
Seriously. It might get violent.
I'm putting my husband, dog and cat's lives on the lines by the very thought of taking caffeine out of this house.
While only 8 contestants were chosen this is only round one of Flab to Fab Challenge. In 8 weeks, after one of us is chosen as the winner, the contest starts all over again. It's Biggest Loser: Blogger Style! So head over to the website and follow, subscribe and be sure to leave lots of comments to keep us contestants motivated, and don't forget to choose your favourite contestant (that would be me, by the way).
So stay tuned and see how horrible this will be for me (despite being worth it in the end). I'll be extra whiny, bitchy and possibly more amusing over the next eight weeks. Also, you'll be able to see the dreaded before pics I took a few weeks ago but refused to post them here. Fab to Flab required them.
Wish me luck y'all!
PS: Any suggestions for some uplifting music to add to my playlist? Cause really there's only so many days I can leave "Defying Gravity" on repeat.
It would be easy to say that I would love to have the body of a supermodel in my weight loss and health journey, but that wouldn't be the truth. I don't want scrawney legs and cheek bones that stick out of my face. I don't want to look like the rest of the magazines. I hate the damn magazines.
But do you know who I envy? Who I want to look like?
Her.
15 year old Jia.
I want her spunky, flirtatious, fearless nature. I want her ability to walk into any store and buy the brightest colors without glancing at the size. I want her tan!
16 year old Jia.
I want her skinny arms and waist, her pear shaped body and her amazing hair. I want her single chin and her flawless skin. I want her ability to look in a mirror for hours on end finding countless ways to play with her hair and be creative. I want her confidence.
17 year old Jia.
I want her thick and healthy hair. Her bright laughter. Her constant smile.
18 year old Jia
I want her energy and pain free existence. I want her ability to stand on her feet for hours at a time, working hard and feeling proud. I want her close relationship with her friends and her ability to stand up for her beliefs without question. I want her sex appeal.
19 year old Jia.
I want her zest for life! I want her passion! I want her excitement and energy. I want her love for so much. I want her hopes and dreams. I want her joy.
But I am not going to live in the past, constantly looking back. Because I still want to be 25 year old Jia. I want her experiences, her memories, her wisdom, her thoughts, her depth and creativity. Her strength.
And I want to be 26 year old Jia. I want her ability to run again. I want her energy and her spark. I want her health and her lust for life. I want her confidence, happiness and pure joy!
You'll burn ten calories. Especially if you do it while running on a treadmill.
So my friends April and Charlie are putting together a weight loss challenge for bloggers. Not just any weight loss challenge either. This is a competition! Prizes are involved people! while they haven't announced what just yet, I've heard it's a free pass to kick Ronald McDonald in the junk. I heard they were going to give away make out sessions with cast members from Twilight, but vampires are full of calories and that would be counter productive.
I've completely lost my train of thought.
Right. Losing weight and winning stuff.
So yeah, you can head over to Flab to Fab and put in your application because the contestants will be chosen this week! The contest starts March 29th, so you gotta get in fast. It'll be all about blogging, losing weight, and also you need a video camera because you get to vlog all the sweaty goodness too! And by "get to" I mean "are required to". So yeah, keep that in mind.
Oh and you can also donate items for the prizes too, so you know, pimp your business out at the expense of fatties like me! But it's cool, cause if I get accepted and win this bitch, I get free stuff!
Unfortunately sometimes the best laid plans of mice and men still let you gain weight. I'm pretty sure that's not how the quote goes, but you get my point. I'm still hopeful, but less excited. That however has to do with the fact that I'm running on 3 hours of horrible sleep after a craptastic weekend filled with heat packs and lots of Advil.
I've mentioned before that I have possible fibroids that flare up inside my guts every now and then that basically put me out of commission for at least a day. Well that day was Saturday afternoon into Sunday evening. Plus Matt and I both got sick earlier in the week which made working out a little too painful and cravings for sugar, salt and caffeine through the roof! Our "No Soda" rule went out the window faster than middle aged womens self control at the New Moon midnight release party (to which I avoided completely).
Of course it didn't help that mid week I had a butter, potatoes and pork fat religious experience, and when I'm sick, I retain water (and you can tell by the softballs nestled snugly where my ankles used to be). Either way, I gained 3 pounds this week. I know it's mostly water weight at this point, which is why I'm not freaking out in the slightest.
I'm still on my plan. My plan just didn't plan for interruptions.
So now I'm going to down one last Coke to try and salvage what's left of the energy I should have woken up with and make a reminder to have Matt bring up the giant case of water we bought at the store the other day (and then proceeded to leave in the trunk).
I'm so tired today and so I was looking through my archives today to find something funny to repost for all my new readers, when I came upon my favourite video in the whole world of my favourite pug in the whole world.
I hope everyone had a great Saint Patrick's Day. We opted to cook at home instead of going to the local Irish pub like we normally do. Mostly because last year we waited outside in line for over an hour and it was scorching hot out - and this year we wanted to stay cool. So I shut myself inside a kitchen with an oven, dishwasher and 4 pots cooking simultaneously without an air conditioner.
My head was shoved in the freezer multiple times.
On the plus side it's very possible that I may have sweat away a percentage of whatever pounds were put on my body for the sinful amount of starchy goodness I consumed tonight.
Tiffany and her family joined us this year, and despite not timing things correctly, we all seemed to enjoy the menu. I was even able to take pictures before the food was devoured.
While the rest of America enjoyed Corned Beef, we ate a more traditional Irish Bacon and Cabbage.
With this HEAVENLY parsley cream sauce.
A creamy root vegetable soup. Potatoes, leeks, carrots, celery and cabbage. Mmmm.....
And of course a staple in my house, Colcannon and Irish soda bread.
Everything was delicious and the salt and pepper shakers weren't even requested. The amount of butter I used would make Paula Deen blush. But I go all out for Saint Patrick's Day, and I'm not ashamed to admit it! I also have enough leftovers to make meals for the next several days, so I can help keep my metabolism going by eating every few hours. So that's good. If I can't eat healthy meals, I can at least develop healthy habits for now.
Another plus? Matt didn't do his usual Irish impression this year so I didn't pick up a single accent all day! He also didn't make any potato famine remarks, leprechaun references or jokes about liquor. It's like it's not even Saint Patrick's Day!
My stomach is full, my heart is happy and my soul is content.
My kitchen on the other hand looks like it's been assaulted with a potato gun.
I'm not one of those Irish that's just Irish today either. I have a long line of family history stemming from Ireland, all of which I have great pride in. So I thought I'd talk a little today about where I come from, who my family is and what Ireland, and of course Saint Patrick's Day mean to me.
My family wasn't one that came to American from Ireland during the famine. No, my family came much earlier, settling mostly in Massachusetts, and although the history books say that we came from England, thanks to my great Grandmother - who was a genealogy freak - I know exactly where I come from.
Here's the quick version of my family line:
Me
- Mom
-- Grandad
--- Great Grandmother Arretta Hardy
---- Jesse Wallace Hardy
----- Sophia Lois Goodridge
------ Penelope Randolph Gardner (Moved from Mass to Utah where our family settled)
------- Lusannah Bryant
-------- Joshua Bryant
--------- Tabitha Ford
---------- Joseph Ford
----------- Sarah Dingley
------------ John Dingley (This is where my family came to America in 1600's)
------------- Francis Dingley
-------------- Mary Neville
--------------- Sir Edward Neville (Yeah, "Sir Edward". He married Eleanor Windsor which actually makes me related to the English Royal line, but that's a whole other post. Today is about Ireland!)
---------------- George Neville (Middlesex, England)
----------------- Edward Neville (Durham, England)
------------------ Ralph De Neville (Chateau De Beaufort, France)
------------------- Maud De Percy
-------------------- Henry De Percy (Northumberland, England)
--------------------- Eleanor Fitzalan
---------------------- Isabella De Mortimer
----------------------- Maud De Braose (Glamorganshire, Wales)
------------------------ Eve Marshall (Pembroke, Wales)
------------------------- Isabel Fitzgilbert De Clare
-------------------------- Eva McMurrough
--------------------------- Dermot King Of Leinster
(Leinster is one of the Provinces of Ireland, in the east of Ireland and comprises the counties of Carlow, Dublin, Kildare, Kilkenny, Laois, Longford, Louth, Meath, Offaly, Westmeath, Wexford and Wicklow.)
This is only one direct line of my where my family history goes into the great Kings and Queens of Ireland, bringing up surnames like O'Brien, O'Toole and of course McMurrough long before there names ever resembled anything pronounceable to those who didn't speak Gaelic. Here they are anyways tho: Ó Briain, Ó Tuathail, and Mac Murchadha. Due to an extensive family history chart, I've traced nearly every family line back to Ireland.
So I may be like 30+ Generation Irish, but I'm still technically a Princess if you think about it. I still bleed 50 shades of green. I still get homesick for a land I've never stepped foot on, and I long to learn Gaelic, the language of my family.
So today, drown the Shamrock, proudly wear green and give a toast to St. Patrick (who eventually made it possible for my family to accept Christ, and would one day move to America where in Massachusetts they would hear of a man called Joseph Smith, and a man named Brigham Young would lead them to their promised land west.)
Even if you don't think you're Irish, you just might be. And if not, everyone is Irish today, Lá Fhéile Pádraig Shona dhaoibh!
Update: This is one of my all time favourite songs by Celtic Woman. Brings tears to my eyes every time. Celtic Woman will be performing today on Regis & Kelly, so tune in! I think I read somewhere that they'll be performing by FAVOURITE song of theirs Siuil a Run, which you can watch below:
I have totally been avoiding this post. Mostly because if I officially start a new health plan, and make it public knowledge, then I suddenly become accountable. I hate being held accountable. It makes lazy days really hard to pull off. For the record, I will still probably have a lot of lazy days.
I'm still not quite sure what all my goals are in this. I know what I want the end to be, but the plan is still fuzzy. In the end I want to be skinnier, because despite the fact that I love certain parts about me, I miss being smaller. I miss being smaller not because I don't think I'm pretty now, but because I was lighter, faster and I moved more. I had more room to move and it didn't feel so suffocating in my body.
But really, I just want to be healthy. I want to be able to walk up and down stairs without taking them one at a time and still feeling exhausted when I get to the top. I want to be able to walk any certain distance without feeling light headed. I want to not have to worry that any random disease is right around the corner, and it's my fault for letting myself go.
And of course . . . I want to be healthy so I can have the baby I've been dreaming of my whole life.
But the way to get there needs to be fuzzy right now. I don't follow strict plans well. Mostly because I over research them. It's just how I work. Low carb diets help you lose weight quickly but you also can gain it back quickly and there's a high risk of over doing it on the fats. Counting calories will make my brain just stop working and I'll start eating when I'm not even hungry, just to make the mark instead of spacing my eating out through the day. Every type of diet has their good points and bad points. It all comes down to you.
For me, I need fuzzy. I don't need definition of a strict regimen. I need the rules to bend to allow breathing room when my anxiety comes into the picture. I need a little extra air sometimes.
So here is my starting place:
Monday, March 15th, 2010
Measurements:
Right Bicep- 13.5
Left Bicep- 13.5
Chest- 51
Waist- 48
Hips- 50
Right Thigh- 31
Left Thigh- 30
Right Calf- 17
Left Calf- 17
Weight:
246.2 pounds
Current Health Concerns:
Pre-Diabetic, possible uterine fibroids, asthma, anxiety, OCD, depression, sleep irregularities, low energy, rosacea, migraines, dysmenorrhea, acne, high blood pressure, and joint pain.
Food Plan:
I will eat when I am hungry and stop when I am full.
I will COOK as much myself and not eat out as often.
I will take my vitamins daily.
I will eat what I want, because I know that normally I am more eager to eat healthy foods.
I will NOT eat in front of the television.
I will enjoy every bite.
I will learn to understand when I am eating because of boredom or emotional triggers.
I will drink more water and less sugar.
Exercise Plan:
I will move everyday.
I will lift weights everyday (whether that be for 5 minutes or 50 minutes)
I will walk everyday (whether that be taking the dog downstairs or a mile down the road)
I will do one video everyday (We have Netflix, I should be using it)
General Health:
I will not begin my day without prayer.
I will devote at least 30 minutes to God everyday.
I will strive to always look my best, because then I will feel my best. Lipstick is a necessity.
Learn to love myself and my body.
I will laugh as much as I can possibly stand!
I don't have any before pictures just yet, but they are sure to come soon.
Wish me luck y'all!
"A year from now you'll wish you had started being healthy today."
Almost anyone I know that has or is suffering from depression knows what this feels like. Heck, a stay at home Mom on a bad day knows what this feels like! One thing goes wrong and just like knocking one little domino, everything else falls to pieces one little bit at a time.
I'm trying to stay positive.
I really, really am. For instance despite the fact that I only slept from 10pm to 2am I was able to wake up and watch some stand up comedy with Matt for a while before he crashed on the sofa. Silver lining.
I've been trying to get together information (and inspiration) to start a post regarding this big new health regime I'm going to embark on. But really, I'm so disorganized I have no idea what I'm wanting to do. I want to get healthy. That's it down to the core, but how? I'm not joining Weight Watchers, I'm not going to be on any specific diet plan, or join a gym. It's all going to be just me. Just me picking exercise videos off of Netflix and lifting my 3 pound weights at home. Just me trying to cook more and eat out less. Just me needing to set timers to remind myself to eat every few hours so I can hopefully kick start my metabolism.
I even got a new scale for only $10!
But here's where the dominoes kick in: I've waited so long to get my health back that I don't know what all needs to be done. I have joint problems, hormone issues, possible insulin resistance... most of these can in fact be completely solved or at the very least eased by losing weight and getting in shape. But then there are other things. Things I cannot see. (Of course I can't see insulin, but that's besides the point).
I've been suffering from a lot of pain recently. Like a horrible balloon is expanding inside of me and shoving my organs into one another like some horrifying traffic jam. Nothing seems to ease it, and since my anxiety assisted in me leaving my job, we're sans a second paycheck and I refuse to toss $200 into the trash can by going to the ER. After enough research (and a proper emotional meltdown) I'm fairly positive that what's causing this problem is uterine fibroids, which unfortunately . . . cannot be cured. They can be removed surgically, but more often than not, they grow back.
The most common treatment appears to be a full hysterectomy. That word sends chills down my spine that only women with fertility problems can truly understand. It's one thing to suspect not being able to concieve and carry a child . . . but the thought of no longer possessing the machine to even make that a dream? It scares the hell out of me.
And yes it's completely extreme, and I'm totally over reacting, but seriously, when don't I over react?
In the meantime I have to wait until Monday to call for a doctor's appointment. I hate waiting. I'm horrible at it. It makes me think about things too much. I don't like thinking. I need to watch more cartoons. Brain killers. It's relaxing.
So in the middle of this whole health revamp, I have to consider all aspects. My mental health, emotional health, spiritual health. Which only leads me to think of my downfalls. I have come to accept the limitations that my OCD, depression and anxiety have put me in. And slowly, I will break through them. They will not define me. But it's the things I should be able to grasp that I fall short of.
Religion is a big one.
I believe everything about my Church to be true. There's not a single part of it I question. But I look to other religions (or even some people in my own) and I have such respect. For my Catholic friends who know each and every saint, prayer and holiday that coincides with their beliefs. For my Jewish friends who wear beautiful hair coverings when they get married. For my Christian friends who not only know the Bible back and forth, but they truly live it. And of course for my LDS friends who unlike me, seem to be able to attend Church every Sunday, read their scriptures everyday, and function in their callings.
I wish I were them.
Domino effect.
And I'm one of those people that is constantly saying, "Tomorrow I'm going to start doing this! I'm going to have a spotless gorgeous house, and I will learn to scrapbook, and read my scriptures everyday, and I will have dinner parties and we will have many friends, and cook healthy meals and one day I will run a marathon!" And then tomorrow comes too soon.
The Self Help aisle in the book store keeps a constant reservation on my standing spot. It's right between the "How to Deal with OCD" and "Organizing for Dummies".
Is anyone else like me? Just waiting to find that perfect key to unlocking the normal you?
Man this post got serious. Here's a video of a cow eating a chicken to end things on a lighter note.
Update: I should never watch Julie & Julia when I'm in a fragile mood. It just makes me all goopy.
Update x2: A part of me still wants to blog my way through Paula Deens cookbook. But I have a feeling that would contradict all the health changes I want to make. At the same time, Paula Deen suffered from agoraphobia (which is actually something I've been dealing with recently). Perhaps the FDA has not thought to test the usage of butter on anxiety related disorders.
Update x3: This makes me feel goopy too. But in a good way.
"What is something you love to do that might shock your readers?"
I don't know exactly how shocking this will be, but I LOVE Wrestling. Not stupid Olympic genuine Wrestling. I'm talking World Wrestling Entertainment! I'm talking colorful underpants, baby oil wearing, over the top, high flying drama.
I'm talking . . .
The best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be . . .
Legend Killing . . .
It doesn't matter what you think . . .
You Can't See Me . . .
That's the bottom line . . .
And if you're not down with that, I got two words for you . . .
I've been a fan since I was a young teenager. Not something shared with my girlfriends. Certainly not shared with my boyfriends. But it was something I could share with my uncle. I went about ten years without so much as turning an eye to the screen when I caught it on the TV guide, until Matt rented a copy of Wrestlemania 24 last June and we both watched (and cried) together. At the same time we turned and went, "Wait? You like Wrestling?" And from that point on our Monday and Friday nights were permanently booked.
What I love doing is looking up the history on the wrestlers. I love knowing the behind the scenes information, their personal lives and the ins and outs of the matches. Matt does not enjoy this process so much.
Me: Holy crap! Did you know that Shawn Michaels real name is Michael Shawn Hickenbottom?
Matt: What?!
Me: And apparently Rey Mysterio Jr isn't actually the son of Rey Mysterio Sr.
Matt: Why are you telling me this?!
Me: And Kane and the Undertaker aren't actually brothers. And Undertakers real name is Mark Calaway.
Matt: Stop breaking the 4th Wall!
Tonight was no exception . . . .
Matt: Did you know that Cody Rhodes isn't actually Dusty Rhodes son?
Me: Yes he is.
Matt: No he's not. His real last name is Cody Runnels.
Me: Yeah, and Dusty Rhodes real last name is Virgil Runnels.
Matt: What?!
Me: Yeah the son took his Dad's fake last name, just like Charlie Sheen did.
Matt: What are you talking about?
Me: Martin Sheen. Sheen isn't his real last name. Estévez is. Cause Emilio Estévez is his son.
Matt: Yeah but I thought that Emilio was the one who changed his last name.
Me: Nope. Here, I'll look it up on Wikipedia. Holy crap! Martin isn't even his real first name! Martin Sheen's real name is Ramón Gerardo Antonio Estévez. And Charlie Sheen's real name is Carlos Irwin Estévez.
Matt did not take this news well.
Matt: Is anyone who they say they are these days!?
Which brings me to another question that two of my lovely readers submitted . . .
Sarah and ArtistJess both asked:
"How did you get the nickname "Jia"?"
"Jia is such an interesting name.. is there a story behind it?"
There is a story. It's not very interesting.
My real name is "Jessica" a name shared by 85% of all girls born between 1979 and 1999. In Jr High one of my nicknames was "6". Because I was the 6th "Jessica" in my class. It gets ridiculously old for me. I've never felt like a "Jessica". "Jessica"seemed to normal to me at the time. Other girls I knew named Jessica were Cheerleaders, skinny, blonde and blended into the popular crowd. I was a short, big boned, redhead! I needed something different. Something no one else had. So I took out the "e", both "s"s and the "c" and it left me with "Jia."
There are very few people that call me Jia in my personal life however since I took my "Jessica" title back when I was about seventeen or so. Matt and most of my family call me Jessi, Josh calls me Jess. ALL my online friends call me Jia. Old friends from High School get confused. "Do I call you Jessica or Jia?" To which I respond, "I answer to both."
Update: I totally forgot to write about a conversation that Matt and I had and he questioned me about it because technically it left me looking like an idiot at the end of the day, and he thinks that I need to blog those conversations more often.
So basically I get a kick out of all the nicknames they give the wrestlers. The Show Stopper, Mr. Wrestlemania, The Viper, etc. Triple H is my favourite wrestler (alongside John Cena and Randy Orton and Shawn Michaels) and he has the best nicknames:
The Game! The King of Kings! The Cerebral Assasin!
Matt: I get why he's called The Game, and the King of Kings, but Cerebral Assasin doesn't even make sense.
Me: Of course it makes sense!
Matt: No it doesn't. How does Cerebral Assasin make sense?
Me: Because he assassinates . . . . . your effing head!!! (said with a lot of anger and frustration)
He laughed for about an hour. He continues to laugh anytime he brings it up too. This is probably proof as to why I need to stop and think about words before I allow them to exit my mouth.
Write a letter to yourself from someone who has passed on. (ie: parent, grandparent, famous person, friend, pet, etc)
Maybe it's the darker side of me coming through. Or maybe I just need to feel connected in some way. Who knows. Either way I'll end up crying through this whole stupid thing.
When you were a little girl I was your guardian angel. I protected you as best I could, despite the scars on your knees from falling down so much. But you had to learn. Even when you grew up I was there. Talking to you in your dreams, telling you what you knew needed to be done, what was right, and even scolding you when you'd done wrong. As a grown woman I've been at your side in the temple, when you've knelt to pray, and in the darkness when you think that you're alone. I've been there.
So I'll skip some of the motherly doting and get to the hard stuff.
You're not alone sweetie. Even when everything around you is closing in, I'm there. It's okay to be scared. I know why you're scared so often. I know why you're so afraid of death. You cheated it once. Somehow, almost twenty-four years ago you survived. You made it. And you ran through life like nothing could touch you. You flew. You embraced every emotion the world threw at you and sometimes you spat right back in the worlds face without a hint of fear. Because you had escaped death, and it was okay that I didn't . . . because I lived through you.
And then you turned twenty-two. And you had a really bad breakdown. Little fears and compulsions you had been hiding from the world starting seeping through. Growing up got real. And reality brought a cold hard fact to the surface: I never made it to 22.
You lived through stories of my life, trying to connect to me somehow. Stories of my childhood helped you adjust to moving across the country. Because you knew I had moved a bit too. Stories of my wild adolescence gave you courage to be different and find your own voice. Stories about the sadness that came with my marriage helped you see the blessings you had in your own. But then I died. And you suddenly became older than I ever was.
And you lost yourself. And suddenly life was precious and scary and you realised how I didn't get to live much of mine in the long run. I'd always just been "Mom" to you, but now I was a woman, a girl even, who didn't get to experience enough. And that scared the hell out of you because you realised that you hadn't cheated death at all. That death would come eventually. And so you grew cautious, and scared of the world. Piece by piece I've watched as you've broken down what used to be your beautiful courage. And only recently have I seen that spark again.
Good for you for being yourself again. I never hid who I really was from anyone. I wore my heart on my sleeve, even when I picked fights with grown men - fights that I won, by the way. So keep doing what you're doing and screw anyone else that doesn't understand. Keep your head up and your spirit strong. You know that what happens makes us stronger.
No one knows you like I do. I'm your mother. I know what's best for you. And right now . . . you're it.
Okay so I was going to answer all of your questions in one gigantic post until I realised that several of the questions asked produced post ideas all by themselves. So I'm going to pick through them before answering the rest in one post. Either way the winners are:
Josh (by asking the most questions . . . which actually pissed a few people off. No one likes an overachiever Josh. Except me. Cause overachieving in this situation gave me a lot of attention. And everyone loves and attention whore.)
Chrissy(by asking the last question. The last question before Josh that is. I'm an equal opportunity contest holder, and frankly if I gave Josh two prizes, the fact that he's one of my best friends *and my ex* might cause some unnecessary drama.)
April(by asking the most interesting question . . . which will be revealed at a later time.)
Speaking of a later time . . . your prizes will be revealed later too. Sorry. Enjoy impatience!
Coolest freaking thing I've seen in a very long time!
There's an awesome video right here for those of you checking this out in a Feed Reader,
so hop on over to the blog and check it out.
PS: I'm so super excited also because my friend Allie (who does cartoons on her blog that blow mine out of the water with hilarity) drew a picture of our cartoon selves meeting since we haven't met in real life. It's still full of awesomeness.
Today is a crappy day. No reason why. Okay, well there are reasons but those reasons are just the usual stuff that doesn't need repeating right now. And reading blogs didn't help. Everyone else is all happy and chipper and it kinda pisses me off. I'm pretty sure it's because the blogs I read aren't bare foot like I am, but still.
Anyways, because I'm not in the mood to write out another "I've Got the Blues" post and because I forgot to take pictures of the Fiery Foods Festival this weekend, I have to come up with another idea for a decent post.
But I got nuthin!
So Monday is officially Q and A Day this week!
Ask me anything and I'll be forced to answer! That's right. I'm gonna answer every single question left below in the comments! Course I may not tell the truth, but there's still a shot! So have at it loyal readers. Ask Untypically Jia anything you've ever wanted to know. My favourite color? (It varies) Why I'm too lazy to mop the kitchen floor? (Don't have a mop) Was I that person that yelled at you for cutting me off at the intersection the other day? (Yes, and I'm sorry for giving you the finger with all your children in the car)
But go nuts. Ask me anything. I'll answer in a few days (or tomorrow if enough questions are asked and I'm too lazy to think up an original post then as well.)
Update: Okay so this is an official contest. Whoever asks me the MOST questions will get a prize!Also, whoever asks me the most interesting question gets a prize! Also - the person who asks me the LAST question before I shut the contest down . . . gets a prize!
Update x2: The contest will officially end at Noon (MST) Midnight tomorrow (Tuesday)!
Update x3: Keep them coming people! Some of these are already making me laugh!
This contest is now closed. Winners will be announced in a post to follow.
Me: Because it's one of the best children's books of all time. And so was 'Bridge to Terabithia'.
Matt: You loved that movie.
Me: It was okay. I didn't like it as much as the book.
Matt: That reminds me. I hate you. You knew about the end of that movie and you didn't warn me or anything. I was like, "Hey do you wanna go see 'Bridge to Terabithia'?" and you went, " . . . . . . yes?" Cause you knew and you didn't say anything!
Me: To be fair, I totally gave you fair warning about 'Marley & Me'.
Matt: Not the same thing.
Me: Marley & Me would have been way worse!
Matt: No it wouldn't have. I've seen 'Old Yeller'.
Me: There's a big difference.
Matt: No there's not! Watching 'Old Yeller' is like getting stabbed in the face. 'Old Yeller' is what children's nightmares are made of. 'Old Yeller' is for little boys, what 'Bambi' is for little girls.
Me: I never got sad watching 'Bambi'.
Matt: That's cause apparently you don't have a heart!
Me: No I mean the mom dies and I was kinda like, "So what? Mine died too, you gonna cry about it?"
Matt: Yeah plus 'Bambi' had that bad ass stag for a Dad.
Me: He was totally bad ass.
Matt: He was a stag pimp. He was like, "Yo Thumper, where's my money!?" And smacks him in the face. He hoof slaps a bitch. He was like if James Earl Jones was a deer, that would be him.
Me: James Earl Jones isn't a deer. He's a lion.
Matt: Stupid effing Lion King.
Me: Do. Not. Insult. 'The Lion King'.
Matt: You mean "MacBeth Light"?
Me: Don't start with me. You know better than to insult 'The Lion King'!
Matt: Did you know that 'The Lion King' is a total rip off of a Japanese movie about a lion named Kimba?
Me: That's stupid. The name similarities don't make sense. 'Simba' is Swahili for "lion". No relation to the Japanese movie. Besides, lions in Japan . . . doesn't make sense. Lions are in Africa.
Matt: This movie did take place in Africa.
Me: Why were there Japanese people in Africa? You're not making any sense!
Matt: . . . . . You can't be talked to right now.
Me: You know what I never understood? How like there's only two adult male lions in the whole movie, and yet it's established that Simba and Nala are the same age. Who is Nala's Dad? For that matter, who's the Dad of the little girl deer that Bambi falls for? Wasn't there only one stag in the whole movie? There is some serious polygamous secrets going on inside the Disney vault!
Matt: Well, 'The Lion King' was a stupid effing cartoon.
Update: Sorry to my more conservative readers. I'm aware an F-bomb was dropped. I would have given you warning, but it would have ruined the flow. Plus, I don't really warn people in real life when I drop them. I should work on that. Maybe I'll wear a sign.
Update x2: So apparently The Lion King does have a bunch of similarities to some Japanese movie called 'Kimba the White Lion'. But I maintain my loyalty to TLK. Plus I still sing songs from Simba's Pride like on a daily basis.
Okay so I was going to do a genuine post today, but I'm so tired and frankly it would end up being a serious post, and I already wrote one yesterday, and y'all know how I hate to do two in a row. So instead I thought since Jam and Toast got such a decent reception by everyone, that I would continue the tirade of Matt and Josh and Guitar Hero.
In this one I'm actually singing. But I'm behind the camera. I break through my stage fright one step at a time.
Are there any suggestions for my next Vlog performance?
Okay so some of my readers might be wondering why I had such issues with my family pointing out my weight gain the other day. Granted most of you practically started a Jia Army in my defense, the question still remained:
Why was I so angry?
Allow me to explain some things about my family. All of my Grandparents were generally overweight. I have one remaining Grandmother and she has diabetes that has cost her half her leg, and most of the other foot. She is wheelchair bound. My other Grandmother died of heart complications but not before a heart attack and a stroke several years prior to her death. My grandfathers too died before they should have due to illnesses that could have been prevented.
I have a total of five aunts and seven uncles total. Five of them can be considered obese. Each of the others has been at one point or another hospitalized before the age of 45 due to illnesses either caused by poor diet, lifestyle or being overweight.
Heart Disease
Lung Cancer
Skin Cancer
High Cholesterol
Diabetes
Cervical Cancer
Blood Clots
These were words I knew the meaning of before I was ten.
Given this information, it shouldn't be surprising that I am at the weight I am at.
Except for my cousins.
Within a ten year age difference on either side, I am the largest of all my female cousins, and most of the men.
19 of the boys played football in High School and/or College
1 holds a record at the University of Utah for 2nd longest field goal
1 has been featured in Muscle & Fitness Magazine
4 have been mistaken for professional models
1 of them actually is
3 were Cheerleaders
1 played College Basketball
1 is less than half my size despite having given birth to twins (and currently pregnant)
3 are Rolley Derby girls in the Wasatch Rolley Derby
2 have run 15k marathons
1 has run a Triathlon
These are my sisters..
They are each half my size.
My mother weighed 110 pounds at her heaviest.
She was pregnant with me at the time.
These are where my issues are.
This is where my bitterness rises when my family brings up my weight.
Despite the fact that I understand my weight gain and poor health is my own fault...
And that's another reason I get pissed when my weight and my health is brought up.
I AM AWARE
I have already had my own waking moment. I have looked in the mirror with a clear understanding that I am unhealthy. And I WILL choose to move forward and get my life back.
My health back.
Those skinny jeans back.
And I'll be damned if anyone else thinks that THEY were the key to my success. That their brutal honesty was my breaking point. Because I've been broken for a while now.
I will move forward because of me.
Not because someone else said I was fat.
And until I gain control of my weight, my health and my sanity, I take solace in the fact that I may not be the skinniest girl in my family. But I still have the biggest rack.
PS: This post is to be read with empowerment and not like a whiny little bitch.
Update: It has apparently become necessary for me to point out that no one in my family called me "fat". Several of them apparently "noticed" that I was getting very heavy and unhealthy. Apparently my words here have offended certain family members that are eager to help me. So this is my message to them:
If you know how. Speak up. If you don't, then offer support. But hearing things second hand does nothing.
Seriously I was way too lazy to vlog myself today, so I uploaded a bunch of old videos of Matt and Josh playing Guitar Hero and conversing. They are too funny for the public not to witness for themselves.
I've come to realise that when you have bare feet, you occasionally get hurt. Stepping on pins, nails and whatever else you've left on the floor. Case in point: Apparently some of my family members read my blog. This doesn't bother me. What does bother me is that apparently they only read certain posts (and probably not the complete post) and instead of talking to me about any concerns they have, they talk with one another.
This morning I woke up to a text from one of my aunts that read:
What are you doing to yourself? I've been told by many family members that you are very overweight. You need to control yourself.
Umm. Wow.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I feel inspired.
After further discussion with my aunt, apparently since she doesn't have Facebook she's been updated by several family members as to the status of the rest of us. Apparently my status is: Obese and probably going to kill herself.
I think what bothers me the most is that instead of offering support, suggestions or a concerned greeting, my family (who include several marathon runners, medical school graduates, and health fanatics) talked about their concerns for my well being with one another - but not me.
I have to ask: How does that help me?
I understand that I never asked for your help. Mostly because you all live 800 miles away. But please understand, I do have concerns for my health. I do own a mirror. I'm very well aware of what I look like.
I will still be bare foot on my blog. This will not deter me from my goals. My weight is not my only health concern. There's my emotional and mental health to also look out for, which I've been doing a lot (and I am beyond grateful for the support and comments from you, my loving readers, fellow bloggers, stalkers and friends - you lift me up.)
This brings up another interesting point however. I know many of my readers also suffer from OCD and anxiety disorders. I too understand how difficult it can be to discuss these things with your family. People who do not, and possibly will not understand. In recent weeks when discussing my own personal issues, the reactions have been unfortunate:
"Oh everyone is a little OCD, it's no big deal."
"Why are you stressing about that? That doesn't make sense."
"Well stop thinking those thoughts."
"You just need to pray more."
So my suggestions for those of you who are also dealing with responses like this, are to just keep moving forward. You know more about your body and mind than they do. Just because they say one thing does not make it true. Let them think what they need to think, and you focus on YOU!
I'll be over here.
Focusing on me.
Update: I thought you'd all enjoy a chuckle. I just got done reading this post aloud to my sweet, loving, supportive husband and his response was: "Good for you sweetheart! Now why don't you focus on making me some chicken nuggets." LMAO.
