I’m reading a book called Real Women Scrap, in which the author, Tasra Dawson, mentions a phenomenon (well-known to scrapbookers) of the photographer mother who conveniently avoids being in the photos herself.  One paragraph stuck with me all day today: “Years from now, we will look back and regret not letting anyone take a picture of us… Friends and family won’t care if we lack trim figures or flawless faces. As hard as it is to grasp, they want us – just as we are.”

More to the point, I imagine, is that they have us just as we are.  As much as I might like to think so, not one of the extra pounds I carry right now is invisible to the naked eye.  The dimpled elbows and extra chin and bloaty belly are as much a part of my current reality as my more-permanent features, my smile and my cheeks and my forehead-which-shineth-like-a-beacon.  So I’ve decided to breathe through some discomfort and release a little perfectionism today by posting my real, actual weight on the internet.  In public.  Right out there.  Today I weigh 186 pounds.

It’s not the 93 pounds I weighed at 16, nor the 113 I weighed when I got home from Ireland after college, nor the 133 I weighed when I got married, nor the 203 I weighed on the day my beautiful child was born.  It’s not any of the countless numbers, high and low, that I have seen on the scale on any of the days I’ve lived so far.  It’s definitely not a perfect number for a 5’3″ female;  the CDC informs me, “Your BMI is 32.9, indicating your weight is in the Obese category for adults of your height.  For your height, a normal weight range would be from 104 to 141 pounds.”  The CDC is correct.

The point of this little TMI-sharing exercise?  Accepting my reality.  Taking responsibility for knowing where this journey begins.  Acknowledging that the choices I make and the actions I do or do not take have a profound influence on myself and my family.  Attempting to step back into the picture by looking honestly at myself and realizing that, while my choices have allowed my current body weight to reach an unhealthy level, I have both the strength and the ability to make new choices.

Not perfect choices, just better choices.

  • {Perfectionism} released:  Whew… I think that “release attempted” might be more accurate.  This isn’t as easy as putting old books in a box for Goodwill.  It’s going to take some serious deep breathing!
  • {Body Fat} released: Rode a bike for the first time in years, for all of 20 minutes, to break in my brand-new helmet.  Pulled weeds for an hour and a half.  Full disclosure: Ate Beaverton Bakery cake at my cousin’s wedding shower.  Mmmm…..
  • {Clutter} released: Cleaned off the shoe racks, porch and garage.  Said goodbye to 4 pairs of sneakers, 2 pairs of hiking boots, and 3 pairs of soccer cleats.

Toledo” by Steve Snodgrass  / CC BY

SingStar, anyone?


Everyone in my family likes to sing.  My dad – who has a lovely voice – always sang to us as kids, camp songs and pop songs and songs he learned as a choirboy.  We sang in the bed of the pickup truck going down to Bonsall; we sang to John Denver and Rogers and Hammerstein musicals as we cleaned house for Aunt Roseanne; and if you put a PlayStation microphone in our hands, we will sing for you at the drop of a hat.

What better way to celebrate an excellent report from the neurologist than a little Family SingStar Night?  We left the cousins at our house, gathered at Lynette’s, broke out all nine of my SingStar games, and proceeded to karaoke the house down ’til the wee hours.  We already knew that Danny has an amazing voice and that Gina is going to dance, but who knew David could nail the falsetto on Blue Orchid, that we could get Grandma Ann into an admittedly-gentle Nirvana mosh pit, that Lynette could do such a smokin’ version of This Charming Man?  Whew.  What an incredibly awesome night.

  • {Health Worry} released:  It’s MS, all right, but I am going to be able to handle it.
  • (Body Fat} released:  Believe me, I danced off some serious calories until my leg gave out.

Microphone” by GrantCC BY

Today’s the day, the sun is shining…


the tank is clean…  The TANK is CLEAN?!

I’m in a good place about meeting with the docs today.  Woke up before my alarm, feeling very cheerful.  I need to memorialize these feelings so I can look back on them in case of future bad moments.  Right now, this PPMS feels like it won’t have any more of an impact on me than TM has had so far.  Possible symptoms seem to include spasticity, weakness, nerve pain and bladder complications – and I already have all of those!  Whoo hoo!  I’ve got Charles for the spasticity and weakness, gabapentin for the nerve pain and daily antibiotics (and endless patience) for the bladder issues, so I already have a plan of attack in place.

I think the key is that I feel in control.  I already know I can handle these things, so I have nothing to be scared of.  I’m laughing at myself right now, because I have determined this to be the case before the meeting with the doctors, not after hearing what they have to say, but I think it will help me go into that meeting strong, not fearful, and perhaps I’ll be all the better for it.

  • {Health worry} released:  I can handle this.  I’ve already proven it to myself.
  • {Clutter} released: 10 books on health and fitness, just for good measure.

Here comes the sun…” by chantrybee