Weight Gain. Depression. Work it Off.

 I decided to talk a bit about weight gain, weight loss, the connection between gaining weight and stress as well as both anxiety and depression.  I'm going to be 100000% honest with you, and let you know that I know of only a couple of times in my entire adult life that I could say with any definitive narrative, that I was in fact depressed or anxious.  If I was either it would be anxious, but not in "anxiety" but more pissed off and didn't know which direction I was going to go in order to solve the matter. (I have to solve things. I can't let them lie still and fester.) I am a doer.  I do things. I plan my attack, I plan well, then I put forth the most amazing and magnificent attack possible - - it will be solved. It's who I am.

    I don't have time for anxiety. I don't have time to be depressed. I don't have time to be stressed. It would appear to anyone reading this post that I value my time and I am in fact quite jealous of it. I won't share my time with emotions that ultimately hurt me or could cause me to hurt myself or others. I just won't do it. Now, that's not to say that it doesn't exist. I would never be so cold or uncaring to say that people don't experience real depression or real nervousness about a matter; they do. I know quite a few people who just can't seem to work out their issues emotionally, and it always, without exception, manifests itself through weight loss, weight gain, inappropriate behavior, rudeness, crudeness in some cases, but always results in harming the person who finds themselves unable to beat their depression or anxiety. I pray for them; I really do. I know it must be devastating, but I have simply (or by divine intervention) never really had much of it to speak of. Like I said, I have been sad enough to say I was depressed for a while; and I have been anxious about a court ruling or what was going to happen with the kids and the custody battle(s) I went through, but ultimately (LISTEN) I found that Jesus really is bigger than any of my problems.

    I can say I had an underlying current of depression or something closely related to depression for many years, but it wasn't out and out sorrow. It was more or less a defeated feeling that I wasn't going to be any healthier than I was, I was getting older, I should just let life happen and time can consume what's left of me; that attitude was exactly what I faced last summer (2020) and I decided to not only destroy that current but to blast it to Hell where it came from. There is NO reason to believe less in yourself than what God believes in you. You just can't out believe God, and you just can't go around pretending that what He created is not worth giving your last breath to in order to make it, and to keep it in shape if for NO OTHER reason than to honor and glorify God. 

    Our bodies are a temple according to the Bible. We are responsible for them. We are literally held accountable for what we put into them, what we do with them, where we take them, and who we share them with. God is there. God is with us. God is in us in the form of the Holy Spirit, and those who will make fun and jest saying "Oh well, I have a bigger temple than I used to have" are sinning with the same sin-stick that Satan uses to strike us with when we openly hate, because treating yourself with the level of disrespect that you do (I did) when you don't eat right, exercise, sleep well, and drink water to hydrate, is flat out wrong. It is sin, and when we realize that rather than ignoring it, we'll do much better for ourselves obviously, but we will also honor our Heavenly Father who loved us enough to make us in the first place.

    Before I get too upsetting to some, I will say that I am absolutely aware that some people who are grossly overweight have issues that are chemical in nature, hereditary, and perhaps medical (to the point of not being able to do much) but I also know that most of our excuses are just that; excuses. We put off what we know we can do, and we stuff our faces with sugar, carbs, alcohol (which is sugar), and other things that cake on (word use intended) the pounds, and over time we just accept that it's normal, but it is NOT right. It is positively the most negative thing you can do to yourself. PLEASE STOP.

    For me, it was that final moment when I realized I was no longer able to ride my horse without pain and without being so unbalanced that I came off more than I saddled up.  I was falling to the side almost every time the horse turned because I was riding as if I was a thin woman, but my big, fat, ugly, in-the-way gut told a different story. The weight of my girth pulled my body from the horse's back and onto terra firma more times than I want to admit, and certainly more times than my daughter Laura knew about because if she had seen it she would have forced me to eat salads and give up frappucinos long before I did the right thing for myself. She would have encouraged me to look in the mirror and to stop fooling myself; which is exactly what it is that we do. We aren't fooling the other guy - - they see us exactly how we really look. It's our own eyes that deceive us. It was ME.

    Depression can come from being in the wrong relationship. It can come from staying in the wrong relationship. It can come from the fear that you can't leave that relationship for financial reasons, emotional reasons, maybe kids are involved, maybe parents are involved, maybe church family is involved, but we cannot let that/those things stop what must be done. CUT BAIT already!  Take care of YOU before you can see clear enough to care for others. 

    Depression can come from loss. It can come from being lied to, betrayal. It can come from years of doing the same things over and over expecting different outcomes. Whatever the reason for depression the answer is (usually) not medication. You don't need drugs to make you feel better - - you need to stop eating stupid foods you know will harm you, you need to work out, you need to work out more than just 10 minutes. You need to pump iron, you need to do yoga, jog, run, walk, jump, kick, punch, dance and by all means and all things Holy, you need to pray! You need to ask God (your Creator) to help you on your new journey, the steps you're taking to glorify and honor HIM. He really will help you.

    God told Peter to put his shoes and coat on, but it was the angel who opened the prison door. You can use this analogy to put down the ice cream, put down the candy bar, put down the soda, even the alcohol, and to pick up the dumbbells, pick up the bottle(s) of water, and pick up the pace. You have a lot of work to do - - it will NOT happen in a few days. It will need to be a lifestyle change, and by change, I do mean CHANGE IT ALL. You can't just give up the food and expect things to work out for you. You also have to sever ties with negative people, negative situations, negative employments, negative family members, anything and everything that would be between your soul and God's heart so that you can go to Him and ask directly for the help you need. If you're hiding things from God you aren't hiding them at all. He sees it. I know, I did that for too long.

    It was August 3, 2020, when I woke up and decided to make the plan to change my life for good. I have lost over 42 pounds, but I'm not finished. I have gone from a size 18 (tight) to a loose 14 and even a tight 12 in most cases, but again, I am not finished. I don't count my success by the size of my body, but by the strength of my spirit. I believe in myself so much more than I did; and yes, the weight was a massive (pun) part of that; it helps to be able to face a mirror now instead of walking quickly past one. I don't stop and stare yet, but I'm looking forward to the day I can say I achieved the final goal. The goal will not actually be final though - I have to, and I want to, maintain a healthy lifestyle.

    One of the reasons I post my food, my breakfast, lunch, dinner, etc, online is to show people that it is a day to day to day struggle and achievement. I allow cheat days, I do carb cycling, I do (and did) so many things to force this body into the groove to keep it moving in the direction I need it to be going. It is NOT easy when you get older, it is not easy when you're heavy, it is NOT easy at all, and we know this, but you know what else - - SUCK IT UP BUTTERCUP, you are better than the person you let yourself turn into. Make the decision to be the most you can be and then do it, damn it. DO IT. If you need help, find help. There are so many things and people online willing and waiting to help you -- for free. You don't need a bunch of money to eat well. Cutting out the crap in your life gives you the money you need to buy the good stuff.

    Bottom line it:  Get good sleep, over 8 hours. Drink 100+ ounces of water (I put lemon in mine) every day, eat far fewer calories than you used to; I eat about 1200-1500 on an average day. Exercise more than you used to and not only sweat, but stretch, move, keep moving, and rest too. Weigh every day and take poopy pills or fiber, lots and lots of fiber. Then take more fiber. Eat fibrous foods, drink fiber, pop fiber tablets. Get a great deal of it in your body, but take a bunch of water with it, because it will pack you up if you don't. You don't want that. 

    Friend, I love you. I don't even know you, but I love you. God has allowed me to love and has allowed me to pray for you. I am doing that right now. You need this. You need strength, you need hope, you need someone to tell you it's really going to be OK. You've got this. God's got this. Together you can do so much more than you thought possible - - you once thought it, but someone took that joy from you, and over time you allowed them to - - it has cost you. You're depressed and you're anxious - - but the good news is, God is bigger - - so much bigger.  Don't fret.  Not unless you have a guitar in your hands. You know what I mean.  I'm going to the closet now to pray. I'll include you in those prayers.  Be blessed.

Photo Credit: www.wartsila.com 

It All Started in the Third Grade.

  

What a monumental year for this girl.  The third grade was in fact, one of the most important years of my entire life; I have so many events that I can pinpoint to having started during, right before, or around that time. I will let you in on a really big family secret at this point; I changed the spelling of my name from Judy Stringfellow to Jude Stringfellow during the third grade because that's when this girl learned about the long "e" sound and believe it or not, I didn't believe it was true. I thought the teacher was some sort of "new-fangled idiot"  (my dad's words) because she wanted to teach me something that my Aunt Wilma had not already taught me. I was absolutely sure that Mrs. Tipton was trying to fool me. She was trying to make me look stupid when she told me that I could spell my name with a "y" at the end of it, with an "i" at the end of it, or even an "e" if I wanted to, because I could put a line over the top of that "e" and it would be pronounced like the sound of the letter itself.  Who did she think she was talking to? 

    To say my precious parents were not all that into education would be an understatement. I didn't come from a long line of educated, college graduates, in fact, there were (are) so very few actual college graduates in my immediate and extended family, that I can assure you that Mrs. Tipton was not very popular with my parents when I informed them about my choice to change the spelling of my name to make it at least appear to be Jude, since that's what my daddy always called me anyway. Since I could now spell it J-U-D-E and people could still call me "Judy" was good enough for me - - for about a week, then I decided it would be Jude and that it would rhyme with rude, and you can bet I knew all about that word. I was that word. I can still be that word. 

    The third grade also brought about the decision I made to be independent enough to sass-mouth my mother when she told me she wanted to see me fold my socks and place them properly in the drawer instead of leaving them in a pile on my bed with both dirty and clean clothes. I tried to explain to her that I knew which ones were clean and which ones were dirty, but she would have none of it. I also tried to explain to her that the dog really liked sleeping in and on top of my clothes, that from time to time I used my clothes as a make-shift body pillow, stuffing them into a pillowcase so I could do that, but again, she was adamant about me putting them away.  

    One day I came home and she had taken all of my socks out of my drawer and had matched them for me. I thought that was nice and all, but since I had already decided NOT to fold my socks it was a good time to reveal to the woman who gave birth to me,  that I had no intention of wearing matched socks ever again! I wanted to be different, and that was the best thing I could come up with so that I could in fact be different. Unmatched socks. I'm not sure it was really that I wanted to be different, I am pretty sure I just didn't want to take the time to match my damn socks and put them away properly. It took too much time.

    Mom looked at me and with that wit and brilliance she often mustered in her face, she said to her youngest kid, "OK, have it your way, but if I ever catch you matching your socks again you'll have to not only fold them and put them away properly, you'll have to wash them by hand and let them dry outside too."  I accepted the challenge -- that was....well, over 50 years ago. I'm obstinate. I admit that. I don't fold my socks, and I don't match them either, and it's more or less a thang now and has less to do with obeying mom.  People who know me always expect to be able to look down at my feet and see that I have on two different colored socks. They may both be white or gray, but they have a different trim usually -- I am who I am.

    The third grade was the year I learned how to answer the telephone appropriately. Why that wasn't talked about at home I have no idea. I remember very clearly seeing a telephone in the Media Center and it was connected to a very long wire that connected to the office of the school. I could follow the cord more than 60 feet to see that it was attached to the principal's office but was displayed like the Crown Jewels on a podium, almost like something that was to be worshipped.  Again, I was not pleased with Mrs. Tipton's methods of teaching myself if this was the case. I knew at that age we were not supposed to be bowing down to anything and here we were, us children, on our knees, around the base of the new telephone stand just waiting for our turn to be introduced to it as if it was a new visitor to our homes. 

    When it rang I was to pick it up carefully and take a breath.  Why I was instructed to take a breath always set poorly with me. I was told I could use the time it took to inhale and exhale to think about what I would say to the person on the other side of the "line".  I was to breathe and then clearly state the words, "Hello, Stringfellow residence. This is Jude".   Today I laugh, and I shutter too, I would beat the tar out of my grandkids if they announced to everyone who called what our last name is, and who they are.  It really was a different time, wasn't it? We're talking end of the '60s here, not the end of the '70s, '80s, '90s or more recent times. We're talking about a time when courtesy was paramount.  I passed the telephone test with flying colors, not that my parents were willing to ever let me actually try answering the phone at home. No one was calling for me. I was told that a number of times, therefore when the phone rang I was NOT to answer it.  That was for an adult. I was 9.

    I ditched school for the first time in the third grade too. I jumped on a trampoline for the first time in gym class, did my first backflip without using my hands, and even managed to eat a few tadpoles on a dare without dying.  Brian Adams has a song about the Summer of '69 and how he got his first real six-string guitar; I learned to play chess that summer.  My cousin Gene (Aunt Wilma's son) taught me, and I learned to ride a bike. My sisters had them, I didn't have one, so I took one when they weren't looking. I took it, went all the way to the top of the hill with it, and climbed up onto the seat. I couldn't quite reach the pedals when I sat down, but I did OK when I stood up, so that's how I rode it. I never crashed it either -- God alone knows why. I think my Guardian Angel knew more about bike riding than I did.

    The school I attended and began attending in the third grade was a new concept type of school. It was an experimental type concept, an open concept. There were NO WALLS between classrooms. I could stand on a chair and see all the way to the other end of the school. I could see the entire primary side; grades 1-3, and I could see through the open concept Media Center into the elementary side of the world, grades 4-6.  My brother and my sister were over there on that side.  Teachers taught, kids learned, people made noises, and you could visually see and audibly hear everything going on in every classroom if you sat still enough and paid attention. I sat still enough and paid attention, and when I did that I could hear 4 or 5 teachers teaching all at the same time, as well as the Librarian who was hosting a class in the Media Center. Talk about distractions! The experiment ultimately failed, but I learned.

    I learned I could multi-listen, I could multi-watch, I could multi-learn, I could divide my brain into sections all at the same time, and I could hear conversations far away and up close. I could not have known then that this conditioning of my brain would lend itself to being so very useful as an adult when I'm in public places listening, being able to hear and listen to several private and public conversations at the same time.  So many of the kids I went to school with have commented that the years they spent at Apollo Elementary were some of the worst because they just couldn't concentrate. I don't remember that at all. I remember it being interesting, fun, full of lessons because I would be listening to one teacher teaching Science and another teaching English while my own teacher was demonstrating how to properly introduce myself over the telephone.  It was - - fascinating. 

    I don't match my socks, I misspell my name intentionally, and I absolutely refuse to believe a single thing any teacher tells me if I don't agree with it first. I check out literally everything they say because I just know people have agendas and want others to just simply go along with whatever it is that they are told. I have always, and I do mean always, been stubborn and insubordinate. I guess it is part of my initial makeup, but it also a cognitive choice. I trust myself and I trust Jesus.  The others who I trusted, my dad, my grandpa, my cousin Gene, and my Aunt Wilma (and yes, my sweet Uncle Marvin, who could have told me the sky was green and I would have believed him) were all gone - - just me and Jesus left. That's a majority - - even without me being part of that equation.

Photo Credit: Jude Stringfellow

You (Poem)

  

You 

 

How can I sleep when 

Fairies are dancing  

When the keys of your piano float 

 into the sky? 

 

How will I dream when  

Your touch lingers in my soul 

Your fingers tickle my very breath 

Each stroke new 

 

Where will my slumber take me 

“Dancing on the Light?”  

“I’m Missing You Now” 

 

Touch is deeper than your kiss 

Air becomes my song 

Music, coursing through my veins  

I want you. 

 

Slowly drifting, slink into one 

Our  bodies feeling every note 

No words,  soft saxophones cry 

We are one 

 

Jude Stringfellow 

July 5, 2021

Photo Credit: Art to Canvas

Fly That Flag!

 I live in America. I live in the South. The South has a reputation that proceeds it most of the time, and the people of the South are both proud of that reputation and every connotation that goes along with being called a "Southerner".  Now, to be fair, Oklahoma is the furthest Northern Southern state, yes, and we hang a bit to the west as well, but we are no doubt, 100%, and in-it-for-the-long-haul type of Southerners who will stand up with you to the end or put you to the ground flat. We're loyal to the bone and then some. Most of us are born and bred Sooners, but there are a few Pokes out there; not gonna lie about it, Oklahoma State has a fan or two.  If you're born in Oklahoma you are not born a boy or a girl, that just really doesn't matter much to any of us really; what matters is your choice of colleges. Are you a Sooner or are you a Cowboy? There are probably 200 colleges in the area, but only two matter, and you will be branded at birth.

    As Southern Americans, we are proud to hoist our fantabulous Old Glory (flag) whenever and wherever we get the opportunity. There are homeowner associations that have tried to thwart that practice, but here in Oklahoma, we tend to run those folks straight out of town and put them into the capable hands of the next Okie on their way out of our fine and fair state. We will fly our flag. Not only will we fly our flag, but we will also fly big, fat, gloriously oversized flags just because they are big, fat, gloriously oversized, and because they are the American flags we are so proud of. We love our country. We love our people. We love our flag. We love our God. If you come around to this part of the nation you'll find a few blue voters, yes, that's true, and you can tell who they are simply because they don't actually own an American flag. Truth in that statement. The folks who got up and voted for the other side are very very few and far between here in the Sooner State, but they do exist and they tend to fly other flags but not Old Glory. She's an inconvenience to them; not to me. 

    In my hood, in my little complex where I have lived over 5 separate times in my life, and I tell people I've lived here more than 150 years; we fly the American flag every day of the week. There are times we will fly three or four flags out on our balconies or on our doors and in our windows. Flag Day, Fourth of July (I'd say Trump's birthday, but that is Flag Day) and we tend to just pick a day we like and fly a few flags just to be sure the world understands that to encroach on this particular house may mean that you'll find Bibles, you'll find guns, you'll find friends, and you'll find endless support if what you're willing to die for is the same things we are willing to lay our lives on the line for; friends and family are part of that, but so is our American way of life, our freedoms, our personal choice in religion, our walk with our God, and the safety of our people.

    My hood is made up of mostly elderly people now. When I first moved here they were in their middle ages and they were lively, hosting BBQs and complex parties because to hold a block party would exclude some of the folks. We hold entire housing parties when we party. We had a pool and we had several grills, but those days have hit the sand and are waiting perhaps for the next generation to come along and restore them to their glory days. Today most of my people talk about their own glory days, their military service, their police service, (they've mostly all retired years ago from both) and they talk about their great-grandkids, their grands, the way life has changed, and what means the most to them. Every conversation about precious memories always includes our American dream, our American way of living, our American freedoms, and what being an American means to them; to us.

    Most of us are of European descent. Most of us know who and where our people come from, and we both honor and respect our ancestors; but we will never trade our American citizenry for another.  I am about to move to Scotland on a permanent basis, but I will never stop being an American. I can't and won't call myself a Scottish citizen, by DNA I'm probably less than 13% Scottish now that the gene pool has been filled so many times over the past 360 years since my almost full Scottish ancestors came to what was known as the New World in 1660.  William, James, Robert, Richard, and Reuben Stringfellow boarded the ships with their entire families and started what is now my life. I am grateful for the history, I appreciate the genealogy and study that went into finding out who my father's people are and were - - and then there's mom; damn Brit! LOL

    My poor mom.  Not only is she 90+% English, but she was also (sadly) born in Texas! What shame! How do I explain that to my soul? Oh well, Dad thought she was a cutie, and they made a very happy and wonderful life for themselves and for us kids as well. We'll just have to forgive the woman, she didn't pick her ancestors well - - maybe next time.  God bless America! God bless the World. God bless each and every last one of us who call upon His wonderful name and who truly believe He is returning soon to save us from what we have done to this planet and to our magnificent country; long may my flag wave in honor of what we were and what we are in my heart.

Photo credit: Jude Stringfellow

It's Official. I Suck at Jumping Rope.

 Apparently, and I mean this with every cell in my body because now every cell in my body feels my ultimate failure; I suck at jumping rope. I am the 3rd worst person in the world at it. I can't claim to be the absolute worst, as I am positive there must (must) be someone who is even less apt at this than myself. If I am correct, I hope this person steps up to announce themselves, because at this moment I am feeling rather alone in my non-conquest.  There are no worries that I will give up jumping rope, no, that will not happen. I will master this skill and I will become one of the world's almost-ok jump ropers; it will happen.

    Jumping rope, so you know, burns more than 200 calories in just 10 minutes. This is the 2nd reason I decided to take it up as a hobby, the first reason is that it's cheap, fun, and I can do it anywhere. I think that may qualify as being three separate reasons, but I use them as one combined reason because the fact that you burn more than 200 calories in just 10 minutes is really hard to beat for a number one reason. You have to admit that.  Anything that can burn more than 200 calories in just 10 minutes is worth doing for 20 minutes if you can - - damn the torpedoes, this is getting done.

    I went all out for this because that's what you do. You go all out so that you can't back out. If you go all out you say to yourself, "Hey, you went all out, you spent money, you put the time in, you're doing this" whereas if you just pick up a $2.00 piece of plastic and jump over it a few times you have the option of throwing it away or using it somehow in your next murder novel. Plastic is cheap and you can dispose of it rather easily if it's thin enough.  For instance, you can brick up a wall and stretch the murder weapon along with the bricks and bury it; be sure and clean all DNA off of it of course.  I'M KIDDING - C'mon, I'm an author, I do that. I kill people. 

    If you go all out you buy the best (or nearly the best) rope, a leather rope with wooden handles. They have handles now that count the rotations but let's be honest, I don't need that at this point. I am still working on the hopping over the rope part without tripping and falling on my face - - again.  I may need to do this in front of a mattress or padded floor.  If you go all out you buy ankle wraps, wrist wraps, good barefoot type shoes, and at least a high impact bra if not two; unless you're a man, and then maybe one will suffice. I need two. I suck at being small-chested as well.

    Jumping rope is an art as well as a sport folks. If you're about to run a marathon you practice for months before you actually do it, and that's the same thing with a jump rope. My son (of course) laughed at me and told me to "Suck it up, buttercup, this is just round one", because he has a few tricks up his sleeve and he's not even wearing a shirt! He's over there jumping, skipping, hopping, moving his feet one at a time all the while rolling and tossing the rope both under his feet and he's even crossing the rope before he does that! What kind of maniac did I raise? I swear I never saw this boy (when he was a boy) jumping rope before - - the girls and I did, but we're girls and we do that. He was always into anything that he could hit, knock over, roll over, throw, or punch. When did he learn to jump rope? (Oh, so yeah, he tells me that as a private in the U.S. Army it's required to learn jump roping for coordination and dexterity. Who knew? Must be one of those secrets the Armed Forces keeps from us civies.)

    I was given the order by my personal trainer/son to hop in place for 30 seconds and only lift my feet about two inches off the ground. I am to keep my face forward, my core tight, my wrists out and my elbows into my body. I'm to nod if I need to but not look down. I do that for 30 seconds, rest 30, jump 30, rest 30, and do this 15 times. This is my morning and evening routine until I can add the rope. HE TOOK MY NEW ROPE FROM ME!  He said I'm going to end up hurting myself and he needs me to make waffles in the morning.  Fine! I know when I'm loved.

    After I get the hopping down I'll add the rope and see if I can do it correctly.  I still jump two hops for one swing and I can't do that. I'm not supposed to do it, but I do it. I guess old habits are hard to break and I must have learned that as a kid. Once I get the regular jumping down I can do it for 30, then off 30, then on 30 and when I can do it well enough I can jump 30 and be off 10 seconds. This is the routine for beginners and I am most certainly a beginner - - GREEN as green gets, I make emerald look pale. I am flat out no good at this - - yet. I will get better. I don't have an option. If there's anyone who can make me stand up and face my demons it is me. I may not be the best roper, but I am a commander! Get 'er done!

Photo Credit: Someone in Basic Training - - I have no idea, but this is about the time he learned to jump rope covertly and without my permission. 

    

    

Hoping for Roping (Hop, Hop)

 If you have been following me for any time whatsoever this past year (11 months actually), you'll know that I've been losing weight, trying to do just about anything to get the body to conform to what my mind thinks it should look like. Believe me, my body and my mind have two really different opinions, and they can often resemble a presidential debate in terms of arguing with each other, making fun of their opponent, and just being both obstinate as well as really rude to each other. I'm not even allowed to stop the bickering really, I just throw in a new suggestion or two and make things as calm and easy as they can possibly be for myself as a whole. I'm not necessarily winning the battle, but I have a firm grip on it and I'm too damn stubborn to let my body have much more than a resistance to what my mind wants. It's how I survive.

    I've been working on this body thing for about a year, just under, and I've seen stellar results really, but not as stellar as I want to see. I started out at a whopping (and I'm shaking my head now) 216 pounds; which I think I weighed less than that with all of my pregnancies. I am today around 170 pounds, which isn't where I want to be, but when you look at me you don't see the "apple" belly on two sticks anymore. That's a plus, right? I mean, I weigh more because I have so much more muscle mass, but the scale is still not my friend. I have to remind myself over and over that, I went from a size 18 to a now size 12, which for most women would be enough, but not me. I'm not stopping until my toned svelte butt is inside a pair of zipped-up size 8 jeans without them being the stretchy kind. Nope, I want a real size 8 body, not a spandex-assisted body. It will happen. It may take another 6 months, but it will happen. I'm just mean enough to force mind over matter - literally. 

    What am I doing to make this happen? OK, great question. I'm doing EVERYTHING - - so let me explain. I wake up after sleeping over 10 hours. That's something that most people don't have the luxury of and I absolutely thank God for that one blessing alone. It truly has been an amazing feat to be able to work my work schedule around my sleep schedule, and not the other way around.  I typically hit the sack around 11 and get up sometime after 9:00 a.m.  Sleep is vital for health.  Next, I don't eat from about 6:00 p.m. to about 10:00 a.m, but when I do I have lower carbs during the day, eating most of my carbs at 10:00 a.m. to get the day started with a boost of good energy. I'm drinking WAY over 100 ounces of water (with lemon or lime) every day, and yes, I have coffee and tea during the day as well, but that water (100+) is over and above the tea and coffee.

    I have three or four small meals a day, all with protein, vegetables, fruit, nuts, cheese, and/or good foodstuff. I even post my foods, for the most part, to let people know and see that I'm still focused. There are "cheat" days to mix up the intake of carbs to keep my metabolism confused, it's called carb cycling, and I do that about once a week or twice every 10 days or so. It's been working out for me too. I take supplements and vitamins, I take probiotics, but the one group of supplements I take every day no matter what are my poopy pills; psyllium husk, cascara, milk thistle, and slippery elm. I have the best poos on the planet and I have them every single day. It's wonderful, I feel great, but I wish I could just poop out the last 30 pounds and be done. That would make me really super happy, not gonna lie to you.

    Let's talk exercise.  I live across from the YMCA so I go there three times a week and work every limb and then my gut. I do machines for 20 minutes and I go home. I walk 5,000 - 8,000 steps a day in the evening, and I punch my Wave Master 10-12 minutes every other day. I do Doga, which is a lot like yoga only with dogs in my face. I don't have an option it's Doga every time. I do that every other day too. I stretch, I ride my bike, I ride horses, though not as often these days. I also lift a 10 or a 15-pound weighted bar and do squats while standing on a vibration plate every other day for 15 minutes. I get my cardio in - - and yet, the body has refused to agree with my mind as to what it should be fitting in or looking like - - I am still standing of course, but I'm not happy yet. 

    This week I decided two things; change up the hormones and get back to basics. By basics, I mean jump roping. When little girls do it they make it look so easy! They can make this feat seem as if they were meant to leap into the air without fuss; they are 40-50 pounds and have the spring-in-their-step syndrome, while the rest of us (me) have to really work at lifting the mass from the ground into the air even if just a couple of inches from terra firma. The experts say two inches is the preferred height. God bless the experts. I don't think three or four inches would be a reality at this point. (someday) This coming from the same person who could once stand straight, jump, tuck her knees to her chest and do a backflip without flinching!

    Let's talk about clothes and gear. Believe me when I say this type of exercise calls for high-impact bras and the type of minimalist shoes you may wear in the water. You don't need to be wearing big, fat, honking shoes when you jump, and you certainly want your boobies to understand they have to stay in place no matter what. I will say that I'm getting better at holding those particular muscles in place, however. Viva la workout!

    Jumping rope is not for idiots friends, you should know this. One does not simply pick up a random strip of cotton or leather and begin slinging it over one's head and under one's lifted feet. No, one does not do that. One watches more experts on YouTube to be sure one doesn't trip and fall causing one to be incapacitated and/or dead. Jumping rope is for the brave.  I have learned that this seemingly simple and overtly covert method of exercising has been modified since the days of my youth. There are rules it seems to the proper length of the rope, and that makes so much more sense to me as an adult. 

    Failure will absolutely be your guide on this one. You do have to pay attention to those in the know with picking and choosing equipment.  Google it, you'll be surprised how the whole industry has changed. They have cotton, nylon, leather, chain ropes, they have weighted ropes, cheap and expensive ropes. They have really cool handles now that count your jumps - - I'm going for the old-school leather rope with basic average handles. I don't want my neighbors thinking I think I'm so much better than they are. LOL...that's a community gag. You'd have to be one of us to know what I'm talking about. We one-up each other whenever we get the chance. 

    I am 5'7" tall, my rope should be 8.5" not 9 feet long. I think I may have an 8-foot rope at this point, but if it doesn't work I'll buy another one. I know the 9-foot rope is just too long to make the correct sized loop or circle to jump over, and holding your elbows inward is the proper way, so you can't fudge and stick your elbows out to shorten the length of the rope - - nope, you just have to buckle down and get the right-sized rope in the first place. It would appear that in this case, size really does matter. Do the right thing - - don't overcompensate.  Elbows in, wrists out, and by all means yes, wear guards on both your wrists and both of your ankles. These joints will take the brunt of the force in this routine. The wrists are the movers, turning, twisting, over and over again, and your ankles will feel the impact with every leap - - do not overdo it, do not force them to be stressed. Little bunny hops is what you are aiming for - - tiny little hop, hop, hops...not actual leaps. I should say hops....hops.

    If you (like I did) go online and see the before and after photos of the jumpers with their 60, 90, 100-day challenge videos, you'll be amazed. If they are telling the truth, and all they did was jump rope, eat correctly, get sleep, and take their supplements, you are in for a real eye-opening awareness of what this one exercise can do for you. I'm really hoping it will be the key to unlock this pseudo plateau that comes and goes. I've been hanging at the same weight for over 2 months, just barely getting out of it and it's not letting up the way I wanted it to. I wanted to be 160 by now, and then 150 by end of summer. My goal weight, for my height, and for my muscle mass is probably 150, but I'm going to see if I can get it lower and keep the muscles. I'll trade the boobs for good thighs if God will let me. I'm not really into the whole C-D cup thing - - I'm OK looking like a 12-year-old boy without a shirt; too much information? Sorry, it's just that they seem to always be in the way.

    That's if for today - - I'm waiting on UPS, Fed Ex, Walmart, and even the postman to deliver packages for me today. I've ordered the ankle wraps, DHEA supplements (hormone thing), and another high-impact bra as well as cool aqua shoes. I wanted the red and black, but they only had the blue in my size - - First World issues. I'll survive.  Two bras are better than one with jumping rope ladies, it's a real thing - - you don't want pain in the breasts and you don't want to stop your routine to worry about them. In time cardio wins out, this is another thing the experts say. I sure hope they know what they're doing and talking bout because this body needs to pay a lot more attention to the experts since it's not paying that good of attention to me!  

Photo credit: Best Buy