Forgiveness, part 2.

Back in January I wrote a post on forgiveness. And interesting things have happened since.

I've reconnected with two people that I purposefully had distanced myself from. One of those because I could forgive. One because I opened myself up to communication because of the post. And then yesterday, I received an apology from a third person.

I had never expected this person, a former boss, to apologize for the final bitter year we worked together. It was painful for both of us back then. We were too much alike in some ways and very, very different in others. Whenever I saw her after we stopped working together, my stomach would clench and I'd instantly feel anxious or angry. I just couldn't let go.

In January when I wrote that post, I really lumped her and lot of other people in this group that may or may not need forgiveness. I just needed to forgive and forget. Since then, I had really beenok with all of those perceived or real wrongs. They weren't "wrong" anymore. They just "were".

I don't know if her apology came yesterday because I was open to it, more approachable. Or because the elements in the universe were aligned. Or because of some divine intervention. But it's an interesting feeling today to walk into work with a different sense about me:all's right in my world.

I am amazed at what has transpired. How my unspoken act of forgiveness that, in some ways was just as forgiving of myself as others, has had such a ripple effect. It's brought changed people back together again and offered resolution, peace.

Imagine if we all could take steps to walk away from hurts. Not necessarily forget them, just release the pain. It makes me think that the most important part of reconciliation isn't apology. It's forgiveness.

Fat Kids and Parental Responsibility

Read this article.

A mother of a fat kid is being charge with neglect. When I was eight years old, I probably weighed 150. Not for my mother trying. She had me in TOPS (Taking Off Pounds Sensibly) when I was 7. And she had me to the doctor and dietitian. I was still fat. And I got fatter.

I see the girl I mentor. She's 13, 5'2" and wears a woman's size 30/32. She tries. But her house is stuffed with junk food. Not for her mother trying. It's what's most affordable on a very low-income budget. And when 16 other people in the house prefer Coke over SF Crystal Light, guess what you buy?

I don't know where the line should be drawn. I think it should be somewhere, though. I'm not a parent, so I don't know what choices go into feeding kids. But as a fat kid, I know that I would find ways to eat what I wanted despite my mom's efforts.

No one's going to win this one.

UPDATED ARTICLE HERE
So the fat kid gets to stay with the mom. And it sounds like some kind of undefined plan is in place. I still think the kid is going to stay fat and the mom is still going to let him eat junk food.

And you know what else I think? I think we need to talk about all the crap food that's produced for kids. Fruit rolls that really aren't fruit. Juice drinks with 10% juice. Cereal with so much sugar a kid would stay wired for a week. Food manufacturers are just doing their job marketing their products. But what if someone decided to start marketing fruits and veggies and other natural foods (or as nautral as foods can be these days) alongside all the other produced stuff? What if there was an effort made to actually educate people about the nutritional value of a cup of Sugar Pops vs. a cup of oatmeal? Just think about it. I am.

The Eyes Have It

No glasses, but a great new cut and color.

Old glasses, left over from the fat days.

My first skinny glasses from last April. Lime green on the inside.

Purple and blue glasses for special days.

Bling-Bling glasses with orange innards.

Round glasses...because now I can.

I'm Lindsay Lohan's Mother

I stopped at Blockbuster last night to exchange movies. The CSR asked if I had ever seen Freaky Friday. I told her no and asked if it was good. She said yes, but she was wondering if I had seen it because I look just like the MOTHER in the movie. In an instant I slid into a demographic that I never considered my own. Then again, if I'm going to be a mother to a teenager, at least it's a HOT mother like the smokin' Jamie Lee Curtis.

Meet the twins

I made a purchase today. A big one...TWO laptop computers.

A big girl computer. A baby computer. Delivered in 7-10 business days.

I could have a contest to name them, but I don't have any good prizes. But I'll take your ideas anyway.

Inny or Outy?

I wish I had an outy. But I have an inny. And right now my inny is in pain, red and raw from loose skin from one side of the disfigured orifice rubbing again the other side. It hurts. It kind of stinks. And I took pictures tonight in case I have to submit them for plastic surgery coverage. In case it turns gangrene and I require an emergency panniculectomy (and boob job and bat wing repair because, after all, gangrene can spread rapidly). Don't worry. My camera battery died just as the last oozing picture was snapped. So I won't be uploading any photos for your viewing pleasure...tonight. Tomorrow, that's another day.

Hot Stuff 4 Sale

I created a store front, Hot Stuff 4 Sale featuring my favorite books and products. I'll be adding more. Take a peek. For future reference, the link is below my picture at right.

Shhhh...

My blog buddy, Melting Mama, introduces a new website you MUST visit: Weighty Secrets. Go ahead...bare your soul. Tell her Hot Jen sent you.

Buy my book

My first mass market cookbook officially went on sale today at Amazon. The Market Fresh Cookbook is selling for around $15.

I promise, you won't be disapponted by the delightful, delicious selection of recipes. Because ALL of them feature fresh produce, they are GOOD for you. (Okay, maybe not THAT good for everyone, but they do taste great.) And I'm the editor who personally selected every single recipe and reviewed every single word. Plus, it's just a gorgeous book with a ton of color photos. BUY IT!

Why I was still awake at 2 a.m. this morning...

We're having a Valentine's exchange at work on Wednesday and are decorating card boxes. Here's mine. On the bottom, the words are "look within". The top of my "head" got cut off by the camera, so you can't see the vintage nail heads adorning my crown. On the back is a bottle cap with a keyhole. My camera died as I was taking the last shots.

It's been so long since I've been in my art room and done anything creative. I completely lost track of time in the process. But it was good to get my hands full of paint and make a mess.

I need a hair cut!

BAD. Nou, where are you?????

I beg of anyone within a 75 mile radius of Milwaukee, WI who knows a hair stylist who's a genius with a razor and has an eye for coloring--tell me who they are! I want my short hair back. I feel like an '80s new wave reject.

International Fame

I got a hit on the blog today from someone in Trindidad & Tobaga. Yes, the one in South America. How did they find me? Google, of course. And the search phrase of the day: how to make a fat 16 year old boy look hot.

Yep, this here's where you find out how to do just that.

Great Advice

I have a hard time getting underwear to fit. I have a small ass and big wad of skin hanging off my belly.

As I've lost weight, it's been a pain in the ass figuring out what size underwear I should buy. I used to just get the biggest size I could find in a granny style. Those stupid charts on packaging labels are no help. It's been a matter of trial and error.

I've gone through several different manufacturers, cuts and sizes to finally find a great pair from Wal-Mart called "The Best Fitting Panty in the World."

I'm a brief kind of gal and these are comfortable with no ass-sag and good fit in the legs. At $2.96 a pair, they're affordable. And, with a nice cotton/lycra blend, they also smooth out the tummy cottage cheese. Thank god.

So today, after months of spending money and stacking up pairs of unworn panties, someone posted this tip on Obesity Help: one rule of thumb is to half your pants size. For example, if you wear a 22 in pants, try an 11 in undies; a 20 in pants, try a 10.

Pay it forward, ladies.

Can I have your autographs?

My rockstar nieces, Lorrin (left) and Jaden.

Day 2

The yuckiness continues. Must not be the photo gross-out afterall. Either too much malitol or a bug. Can you hear the intestines gurgling?

About those photos...I was checking out the plastic surgery forum on Obesity Help and this poor woman posted pics from her surgery showing gaping holes where once the skin resided. If that's what I end up with after $20,000 and all that pain, I'd likely kill myself.

I can't resist the urge to look at people's PS pics since I feel like I'm getting closer to that step myself. But, damn, it's freaking me out when I hear--or see--the horror stories. The complications from PS seem more intense and frequent than with the actual bypass. I need to read more. Look less...read more.

Am I Dying?

Egads. My guts are turning inside out and I feel like my intestines are going to explode. If I lay still, it's like waves of cramps convulsing my abdomen. If I move, I feel like a boa constrictor is wrapped around my middle. Is this dumping? Or is it a physical manifestation of my psychological repulsion to someone's photos of gaping, rotting wounds that haven't closed from a circumferential torsoplasty? Either way, I'm swearing off food and plastic surgery.

Pulling out my hair

I was supposed to get my hair cut this Thursday. But my stylist left the salon to become an instructor.

I've been on a mission to track her down. I've googled her, scoped out switchboard, called the salon and left messages, even sent messages to a stranger on xanga in hopes of finding her.

I know it sounds stupid, but when you wear your hair as short as I do, the cut is everything. Nou used a razor to cut my hair that gave it great fullness--even when I was losing it. Now that it's grown back, the cut is just as important. And the last time I was in, Nou colored my hair. She did such a perfect job, I'll never trust anyone else.

If you're in the Milwaukee area and know Nou who worked at Regis at Mayfair, please tell her to contact me. I'm not getting my hair cut until Nou cuts it for me. And I mean it.