No Pants on Thanksgiving this Year!

I miss having my own classroom. I do, I do. I miss my high school students and the positive relationship I had with all of them; I miss the school dances and fundraisers; I miss those moments where I actually see them understand what I'm talking about; I miss those moments where I actually see them dismiss what I'm talking about; I miss coaching cheerleading and watching my girls perform while wearing their argyle knee socks (oh yeah, my squad was killer cute); I miss finding out a student got their license leaving me to take a different/safer route to work; I miss finding the answer marked "True" when it was actually a multiple choice question (a,b,c,d); I miss those times where they had better come backs than I did; I miss hearing my female students talk about how he's the one because he held her hand in front of what's her face who he used to date on and off for six and half months but now by holding her hand in front of what's her face proves that he might change his Facebook status from Emotionally Damaged to Getting There Slowly and he's just so awesome because he has thirty-two different safety pins in his jeans; I miss seeing that same boy that she's lushing over just shrug his shoulders while saying, "Whatever..."; I miss it all. I do enjoy what I'm doing now, though. It's an experience worth having, but there's just something about that connection I can have with my own students. Oh, it warms my heart to pieces.

I was so thankful for all of those little classroom moments, even the ones that made me want to go back to college and choose a different major, but now that they're in the past, I miss them; I am thankful for the memories. That famous saying, "You never know what you have until it's gone," is true for a reason.We've all experienced it ten fold. As we enter the week of Thanksgiving and the world of Cream of Chicken Soup, we get so caught up in the hubbub of the holidays, or if your me the stress of being around so many tempting calories, that we forget about actually being thankful. All of those precious things in life quickly get replaced with Black Friday, calorie calculators, talking smack about those family members you see once a year, and gravy. Of all things that distract my ability to be thankful is...can you guess?...yes, the calorie parade that is Thanksgiving. I genuinely stress about it all day. It starts with the fight to get in the pants, proceeds to the fight to stay in the pants, and ends with the fight to get out of the pants. Every year, I have a pants war.

Now, I can only speak for myself, but when Thanksgiving rolls around, my food anxiety sky rockets, therefore, giving my talent to complain endlessly a good volt of energy. I try to be proactive, I really do. I buy all low-fat ingredients, volunteer to make a bunch of the food so I can know what's going into it, never take home leftovers, and I always run a 5K that morning. This year will the first year without a Turkey Trot for me to trot, so I might just trot on my own...trot, trot, trot, trot, trot, there, I trotted. Anyway, usually at the end of the day, no matter what my efforts were, I still feel like a pilgrim murdered my willpower. I use that angst to dominate Black Friday, but that just gives me an extra 13-48 hours to make bad decisions. On a side note to all of the Black Friday shoppers: you're welcome. I know all of you are thankful that I am here and not there because you all finally have a chance to shop in the madness without getting man handled by Abigail. Last year, I literally sat on top of the Paula Deen pots display. They only had eight sets, and I needed two...guess who walked out with three ;)
Thanksgiving should not be ruined because my inner-fat kid runs the show. In fact, I know a lot of people who are stressing about what choices to make and if they are going to have self control. Believe me, nobody understands that stress better than I do. So many others don't understand what it's like to have food anxiety, but to those of you who do, since we have it everyday of our lives, let's hang it up for one day. Here's my new thought on how to approach Thanksgiving meals: eat. This year, I am not going to stress about the fact that this is a "Thanksgiving" meal. I am going to treat it as a regular everyday meal. I will have breakfast that morning. I will not starve myself all day to indulge that night. I will eat what satisfies me. I won't eat like this is my last meal. I will have dessert. I will have a roll. I will have two bottles of wine. I will not be irked, like I usually am, that the cranberry sauce as a certain jiggle that I can relate with. I will enjoy myself, my husband, and my friends. I will wear a skirt alleviating the War of Pants. I will be thankful that I am in the position to have that much food in my presence when so many others are going without. I will mean every word of the blessing when talking to God. I will laugh. I will ask my husband to do the dishes.

There's just too much that goes without appreciation. With only one day on our calender that is designed for us to give thanks, we shouldn't take it for granted. Being out here and around other military spouses really has redefined what it means to be grateful. There are men and women serving our country who would do anything to be home with their families; they're thankful for a letter, a phone call, a care package, or a moment to see their loved ones on Skype. How can I sit here and complain that my thighs won't let me cross my legs when I'm in the middle of all of this emotion? I get to wrap my arms around my husband everyday, and that's what matters most.

I will, for the first time in a long time, be thankful on Thanksgiving.

I am thankful...
that my husband is my best friend
for God and all of his many blessing
that my family is amazing
that my niece and nephews have an infectious laugh
for my health
that my body is an able body
for friends who support my new life
for my past, current, and future students...all of them, maybe...yep, all of them
that cats have the cutest way to stretch to their fullest length and then collapse back into themselves
for deodorant (I'm on the subway all of the time)
for patient people who give my homemade sign language a chance
for gas stoves
that Dunkin' Doughnuts uses so many sprinkles
that we live a life without TV
for Kit Kats
for people who wipe off the gym equipment when they're done
for fat-free cream of chicken soup
for the Keurig
for online support from complete strangers who understand my every thought
that Britney Spears is still performing
that I have the ability to forgive and not forget
that I have not totally killed the flower/houseplant that Reuben gave me, but it is on its way
that my friends have super cute babies which gets rid of any possible awkward moments if they weren't cute
for the Kindle
that I have the ability to get lost in my own city...like, the one in the states (that's talent)
for fuzzy socks
that I can Skype my mom when I have a cooking question
that my husband is going to buy us a small dog
that when I hold a grudge, it's not so heavy
for Weight Watchers because it's an amazing program when I actually follow it (guilty grin)
for the moments that I have the ugly cry laughter that can't be controlled
that I can't whistle because I find that noise annoying, and I would annoy myself
that my husband will do the dishes on Thanksgiving

I'm pretty sure the list would be super long and ridiculous at times, but it would be my list. That list is my list and my list is going to get the attention it deserves this year. I hope everyone has a Happy Thanksgiving, and I'm going to get back to making an even longer list.

Just Shut Up Already!!!

If I asked you what is the one thing women want most in life, what do you think the answer(s) would be? We saw Mel Gibson embark on that dangerous quest when he was given the gift of hearing what women think in his movie What Women Want. Now, if he actually learned anything would be the miracle of the movie because how is he supposed to find out when we change our answers from day to day. Anytime I taught British Literature, I always incorporated The Canterbury Tales. As you just read those words, you either got sleepy because you remember an older, pedantic teacher drilling it in your head, excited because you are a nerdy romantic literary scholar like myself, or hungry and counting down the days to Easter because you mistakenly read Canterbury as Cadbury. In this great work by Chaucer, he wrote about the Wife of Bath telling a story about a knight who has a year and a day to be spared of death if he can find out the answer of what women want more than anything in the world. Go ahead, rack your brains...I know you know the answer...you've read the story, wrote the paper, and then burned the book...c'mon...yes, there it is. The answer in the story is that women want complete sovereignty (supreme, independent authority) over their husbands. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...women are evil.

I'm not saying that's the answer now, but isn't that what we crave sometimes, just for everything to go our way? I'm thinking that most women now would want anything that could make us thinner, fitter, happier, and our lives easier. Eh, small potatoes.

Even then, Chaucer knew that women are complicated and it's very difficult to please us. Seriously, if you're sitting there, thinking, "No, I'm not. I'm happy all the time." Then I commend you on your choice of prescription drug. We are constantly complaining, pouting, pitching a fit, talking crap, hiring a hitman, or sulking when it comes to the smallest mishaps in our days. I'm not saying we do it one hundred percent of each day, but it's definitely there. And we're so absolutely trained to model this behavior that we are stunned when something good happens and it doesn't require an attitude. It's like we stored up a certain amount of negative energy that needs to be expended throughout the day, and if we don't use it, we might go crazy, like Nancy Grace locked in a room with a pedophile kinda crazy. And so when that something good happens, like a compliment, we smack it down, and then drown it, and then slice it, and then shoot it, and then hang it and use it as a punching bag..."Take that you stupid compliment...oh wait a minute..." Yeah, sister, something good!!!!

The first time this habit was pointed out to me was during my freshman year of college. I just got back to the dorm after one of our first basketball games where I danced during the halftime with the Dance Team. When I entered the lobby, some students said that we did a really great job. Out of nowhere, I found myself saying, "Well, I was off count on one part, and my leap could have been higher, and..." when this guy stopped me, told me I was so rude, and to learn how to say thank you. That was a great, big 'wow' moment for me because I never gave it any thought. It is totally rude to disregard someone's praises. But look how many times we do it, ladies. Now, I'm not going to go on because I read this fabulous article this past summer and it says it all. Once I just read it again, I was reminded about how much sense all of it made. It's a small article written by a dude explaining to girls why guys compliment us and how we should respond. What? A glimpse into a guy's mind?? Yes, please! I ask that you please read the article and then put some serious thought into it. We don't have to be so complicated and negative all of the time. I promise it's okay to say, "Thank you." And now, to go give my husband an extremely overdue thank you...

The link to a very insightful article:
http://cosmo.intoday.in/story/women-just-accept-a-compliment/1/8373.html

Are You Happy? You Are...? Well, Let Me Take Care of That...

        First of all, I shall start with a resolution update: my first goal was to lose .5-1lb a week. Well, the first week I lost 2.3 lbs, which was fabulous. I was either in the mode and only saw success as an option, or I was going through red-meat-glazed-doughnut-jet-lag detox...either way, I was happy and ready for the following week. That was the week I rewarded myself for such a fabulous weight loss with Kit-Kats, an apple, and beer, resulting in a huge weight gain, a new facial blemish, multiple husband thinking someone else is hot accusations, and self loathing. During all the eating and self hating, I did manage to unpack the back bedroom, which was full of clothes that I can no longer fit into because they are too small, so back in the box they go. I thought I would totally thrive with learning how to coupon. I printed off multiple buy-eight-butters-box-of-eggs-deep-fried-chicken-parts-MSG-and-get-a-free-high-five coupons and excitedly went to the store. Luckily, there was only one lane open to check out, so only twenty to thirty people were murdering me silently with their eyes when I pulled out my coupons. At that moment, I learned that the coupon Nazi works here and makes up her own rules, so instead of walking out of the store with my third box of Chex cereal, which would have been free, I walked out with contempt for all those who have the power to say, "Noh, whan cupin onwy..." Pffft, whatever! I also had another resolution about blogging more, so now that I'm three days late doing that, here it goes:

      If we are what eat, then I am a bad decision. Plain and simple. I spend more time saying to myself, "Oh, I shouldn't eat this, but I just don't care." And if that were true, the not caring part, I wouldn't be looking at a vacuum hose attachment and a scalpel while wondering if I could be the first person to pull off a self implemented at home liposuction procedure. And if I ever find a coupon for lidocain, I might just make it happen. Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is the "caring" part. Why do I care? Seriously, why in the world do I spend every waking moment with self image and weight loss on my mind? Why is it that I can be so caught up with these thoughts that I can tell you every calorie in every piece of food, every contestant ever to be on The Biggest Loser, every celebrity who has ever acted as the spokesperson for a weight loss product, every movie that has Kevin Bacon in it (that doesn't have anything to do with weight loss, I just really like bacon), but I couldn't begin to tell you who is running in the next election? My brain is totally distorted, and I blame it all on the media.

      Yes, my wonderful followers, it is finally here: the blog post about why media in all of its forms has the number one priority to destroy a woman's soul. I want you to do some brainstorming pertaining to commercials. Think about the women on these commercials. What do they look like and what are they selling? And if there is a husband in the commercial, what does he look like? Most of the time, if there is a husband in the commercial, his looks are way below her league. Sorry, but it just has to be said because I know we're all thinking it. However, if the man in the commercial looks like the type to hear the letters GQ and thinks that you're talking about his level intelligence, he has some girl with a body that is fifty percent hers and fifty percent plastic on his arm. Is that fair? No, I think not. But this is a not a topic about battle of the sexes because that is one issue you do not want to hear from me; I'm an antifeminist...sorry, call me traitor. One day I realized that almost every commercial was geared towards women and providing reasons that they shouldn't be happy. I hate one commercial specifically about cereal because it's all about losing weight, and these women (hundreds of them) are running to the box, and they are all tiny and cute. There's not a single man in the commercial. And every resolution commercial is geared towards women losing weight, working out more, or pooping regularly. I guess that's a secret resolution that women sneak on their list that only the consumer pleasers know about. What do men get as commercials?

Men's Commercial for Weight Loss:
"I lost 40lbs on NutriSystem, and now I can have longer sex."

Men's Commercial for Toiletries:
"I showered with this amazing product, and twenty hot girls are lined up to towel me off."

Men's Commercial for Hair Loss:
"I have hair, and now I can date high schoolers again."

Men's Commercial for Hobby:
1-800-I'm Hotter In Your Mind Than I Am In Person

Men's Commercial for Food:
A twenty second video of an overly hot girl mouth raping a hamburger.

Men's Commercial for Life Insurance:
Hot girl wearing nothing but whip cream...Announcer: "Can your heart handle this? Get life insurance!"

Men's Commercial for Rotor Rooter:
Hot girl plumber crack.

Men's Commercial for Coffee:
Boobs!

      I guess I could be snooty and say that this is how simple the male brain is, and the female brain is so highly functioning that it takes complicated commercials to persuade us to even think about the product, but that's not right either. Say it with me now, Sex Sells!!! And I hate that it does because it is not rubbed in only the men's faces, which they enjoy too much, but it is also rubbed in ours...the girlfriends, the fiances, the wives, the women. Men get commercials where overly, gorgeous women are throwing themselves at the men because they switched to Geico, and women get commercials filled with these words: Bloated, odor, fat, bumpy, greasy, itchy, wide, ache, scaly, thinning, fried, blemish, watery, bags, cramps, hairy, depression, redness, embarrassing, tightens, flow, irritating, blotchy, sweat, wrinkle, brittle, slimming, dingy, smelly, unclean, age defying, constipated, tender, infected, dry, swollen, crows feet, bladder, and the list goes on. Men get magazines with bikini models on them. Women get magazines with bikini models on them with the words, "Look Like This" under her name. It's just a never ending battle. Once we feel pretty good about who we are and what we just accomplished, there's a commercial that pops up somewhere that lets us know that we could be so much better. Irritating!!! And so the circle of Inner-Fat-Kid-Abuse continues...

      As much as I hate the breaking-a-woman-down mentality that the media seems to possess, there's nothing that can be changed. That's just the way it is. And I promise, the last thing I need is some PR major messaging me about the dynamics of consumerism; I get it. I just also happen to find it annoying, to each their own. Anyway, all of this ranting and raving, and somewhat distant and random blog, finally concludes me in making this point, especially to those who are just like me and feel that these commercials and magazine covers are made specifically to crush me and anything that resembles confidence or positive self-esteem. If I gave even half as much energy to the positive words I hear directed literally towards only me, "We're so proud of you (family). Abigail, you look so happy (friends). Mrs. Newton, we miss you so much (students). Honey, you are gorgeous (husband)," as I do the negative energy to headlines meant for the masses, how would my attitude about myself change? Oh yeah, that's a gold nugget Abigail thought...not a chicken nugget, but a gold one...think about it. No, not about the chicken nugget, about displaced energy; work with me here.

I Appreciate My Body...and Deep Fried Bread

Abbey,
I'm not sure that you will believe me but I'm not sure your aware of how many women would kill to be like you. To have the motivation and will power to work out, your working out makes me tired just thinking about it. Your beautiful inside and out! I think your smaller now than when we were in high school and would do almost anything to have a body like yours. I have been reading your posts, and I have to say they crack me up because I can so see you going off on some random ranting about the Waffle House. I know you and I have never been close friends, but I just wanted to tell at the risk of sounding like a psycho that all your hard work makes you something to be envied. So I guess part of what I'm trying to tell you is, you should take time to just be you and slow down to enjoy the moment without beating yourself up. You seem really happy with your new life and your husband seems to love you more than anything so just slow down a minute and enjoy it:)

Dear Fellow PHSian,

 

     First of all, these words are too sweet, but they are also so true. I often take the time to rant and rave about my struggles and very rarely do I focus on any successes that I might have, but I am woman, therefore, I complain and envy others.

      I do feel that I need to make the effort to change the way I communicate my thoughts. Every single day I wake up thankful to have my health, to have a working and able body, to have a husband that loves me, provides for me, and makes me feel flawless, to have God watching over me, to have all of family and friends' support, and to have Dunkin Donuts right across the street. I definitely look at other people endure real atrocities and come to my senses that I am too blessed, but you're right, I rarely focus on the positive when it comes to myself. But isn't that what we all do?

       I feel this problem is what makes up most women. You just said to me what I have said to countless people. We, as in women, as in the border line psychotic, spend more time envying others than we do appreciating ourselves. We continue to say, "I want arms like HER'S. I want a butt like HER'S. I want legs like HER'S. I want pills like HER'S." Heck, I get mad that transgender males can strut it better than I can. With all of this moaning, complaining, and envying, we never take the time to appreciate what we have and what we have worked for. As soon as I look in the mirror and start to see results that I've been killing myself for, I find myself in a classroom with a teacher's aide that is so utterly gorgeous and perfect that I ignore the UFC tournament going on in the middle of the preschool floor, come home covered in self pity and a five-year-old's boogers, and talk about her (the teacher's aide) so much that my husband questions my sexuality. But again, I woman, and I struggle with being satisfied with my appearance.

     I do have my good days, though, and I guess that's what I need to be sharing on this blog. So I'll start with saying that I do love parts of my body, like my elbows or my second to biggest toe...that's actually the best toe because it never gets in the way and always remains blister free...I also like my wrists, they feel small and feminine and have bone protrusion. Ha, there we go, praising parts of my body...never thought I'd see the day. 

      I hope you are following your own advice and you are enjoying yourself. Please know that as much as you say that you envy me for my energy and workout regimen, I envy you for having the chance to be a mother. I'd trade it all for that chance. I have two babies in heaven that I love so much and think about every time I get on the treadmill. God gave me an incredible husband, and by doing that, I know he has other blessings up his sleeve, but in due time. So again, you envy me, but I equally envy you. You're a beautiful person who only has good in her heart.

    The whole point of this blog was to examine why women feel the way that we do, and this is one, if not the number one, biggest issue: denying ourselves personal acceptance, which I will definitely examine closely and use for a future blog post. Hopefully, it will help me and others overcome that hurdle. So I thank you for your words, but I thank you most of all for bringing this issue to the forefront for the other readers. Why, ladies, are we doing this to ourselves? Hmmm...good question...don't know just yet, though. We all need to follow your advice: slow down a minute and enjoy it. However, in the time it takes me to walk across the street, purchase my Dunkin Donut regular (nothing less than a dozen and some must be cream filled), come back and eat one, two, or ten, it's more like fifteen minutes than one...so only because you insist on me taking a minute, I think I'll take fifteen ;)

 

Go Bears!, 

Flabby Abbey