An Actor’s Musings

Got up early. Perfect weather. Flowery sundress for a trip into the city.

Amazing coaching session that left me feeling like I know exactly what I need to do.

On the way home, I picked up a piece of banana-nut bread and some hot tea (heavy on the milk and sugar). Took it to Greeley Square and sat there enjoying the pink tulips and gorgeous weather eating a delicious baked good, thinking about the rest of my day: home, session with my trainer, trip to the grocery (this is fun for me!), take-out night with Brad and I get to pick the movie! Great day ahead.

Spring is so amazing here. Really. You might hate the city, or hate the people, or want to kill all winter and then spring arrives and everyone is in love and happy and the city looks beautiful and it’s like magic happened. Right here. Magic. And you feel so lucky to live here and see it.

A woman walked into Greeley Sq. Obviously something about her was….different. She was carrying a tattered pile of clothing she plopped on one of the cafe tables and her hair was dripping wet and all down her face. I’m fairly sure she’d just ’showered’ in the street with someone’s discarded bottle of water or something. She took a dirty shirt from her pile and started drying her hair.

Right there in Greeley Square Park. Next to the cafe. Besides the gorgeous tulips.

New York has this way of reminding you: that could be you. Yeah, it’s gorgeous and life is magical but don’t ever forget that you’re lucky.

I came home to my gorgeous garden oasis in Queens – all greens and pinks right now. I walked to my new apartment and here I sit after a bitch of a workout with a cat in my lap and my husband in the other room. I’m spending tomorrow with my two best friends taking a walking tour of Central Park’s “Adirondacks”, maybe a movie that night. Sunday, another similar day. Relaxed and happy kind of weekend planned.

I do not have to wash my hair in a park. I do not have to gather piles of discarded, dirty items.

I love this city not just because of it’s unexpected beauty (a spot of green feels like a ‘find’) or because of it’s funky energy or the opportunity or that you can find anything you want at 2 in the morning…..but because sometimes, when it’s completely unexpected, it teaches me.

I am thankful and lucky and thankful and lucky.

Just about the time I say “I’m comfortable with my weight”, “I’m okay with my body”, “I’m comfortable not looking good unless I wear clothes. I can just let the flab be flabby”…..all powerful and in control woman that I am….it’s at that moment that this little rat-faced vampire in my brain pops it’s head out and says “are you SURE?”

Hmmm, am I sure?

In the last week I have had moments of pure hatred for parts of my body. Hatredly hate…Call me Mayor McHatey from Hatesville. The flaps under my arms. The wobble made out of crepe paper under my chin. But mostly? The saggy, still-filled-with-fat skin on my belly. It’s hard to explain, but even thought I know I’ve lost a large amount of weight, my belly seems more huge to me than it did at 281. I focus purely on these spots and intensely, passionately abhor them.

And here’s the really messed up part – then I feel guilty for loathing it because I’ve lost so much, shouldn’t I be all sunshine and light and just happy for what has happened to me?

What I’m having trouble wrapping my head around is why now? Why didn’t I feel this way about my body at 281? I never stood, looking in a mirror, consciously hating what I saw….literally thinking the words “I hate that so much”. Why would I have such enormous disdain now?

Hmmm. Or….

Perhaps I did have these feelings then but they were buried? Maybe my sub-conscious mind knew better and kept it hidden far away, packed up in a cage with the rat-faced vampire so it could feed on my hidden self-hatred (I hear it’s their favorite tasty snack). Maybe…..maybe for 38 years I felt the weight would never change so my very smart mind kept those thoughts from me so that I could live…..because who can trudge through life every minute with those kinds of soul-killing thoughts? Who can go on knowing it can’t or won’t change without making peace? That would literally drive a person crazy. The thought of it makes me feel….panicky and closed in.

(Perhaps this is a good moment to stop and thank my sub-conscious for keeping me safe in that way for 38 years.)

I did make peace. I had a husband who loved me no matter my size and my fat had nothing to do with my ability to affect people with my art or with how well I made friends or who I was inside. And I liked who I was inside very much – even at my highest weight.

Maybe the difference is that back then I believed what I looked like didn’t matter.

Powerful. Let me say that again but for the present:

What I look like doesn’t matter.

Everyone is focused on how I look right now. For the very first time in my life, in a positive way, it’s become very important. It’s total focus: how my clothes fit, how my hair looks against my thinner face, how big my eyes look, how much smaller my stomach is, how thin my arms and legs are. Even making peace with potentially not losing more weight. Most of my focus has been on how I look.

That’s ok. Perhaps I needed it for the last 9 months to keep me moving forward, to enjoy the moments, to keep me taking my vitamins and drinking my water and loading up on protein. Perhaps I needed it when I didn’t feel so good, or was struggling with a hormone dump. Perhaps I needed it.

Do I need it now? That hyper focus on how I look? I don’t think so…. now I need to remember what is important. What the woman in my past accomplished, no matter her size:

• loving who I was at 100lbs over weight
• surviving sexual abuse
• learning I can change no one but myself
• dealing with the death of my dad
• journeying toward self-awareness and making the commitment to always do so
• finding a man that also believes in beauty and self-awareness and fighting for what he believes in
• deciding that my life is a choice, my happiness is a choice
• embracing my agnosticism
• constantly searching for my truth
• searching, accepting and hopefully giving graciously

Not one of those has to do with how I look.

I know the voice will never completely go away. I know that I have to learn how to speak to it….how to combat it…..how to be the one in control over it….how to make sure that even if it’s there, it has no power……so let me say it again to that vampire voice in my head:

What I look like does. not. matter.

I’m by no means ’skinny’ and I’ve got a helluva lot of toning to do. However – this thinner me is learning a few things along the way.

1 – If you are going to be brave enough in your new body to wear leggings and a top that doesn’t completely cover your tush….invest in some new panties. The undies you wore 85lbs ago do not fit no matter how much you convince yourself that you don’t want to spend money on new underwear and they work well as they are and they are stretchy and you don’t know what size to buy. They will bunch up and look like a diaper. See example: my ass today.

2 – Just because you have lost the equivalent of a walrus calf doesn’t mean people won’t still think you’re pregnant.

3 – If you are still socially considered a few pounds heavy, yet a healthy diet for you consists of mainly fat and protein by the truck loads, be sure and gain a good sense of humor about others’ perceptions. People watching you consume bacon covered in cheese and mayo and hollandaise with steak on top will watch in horror and likely are saying little prayers for your health and arteries….jokes on them if they saw your blood pressure, cholesterol, and triglyceride levels. Personally, I try to make sure I ooh and aah over each bite for maximum effect!

4 – Get used to saying things like ‘bacon cleanse’ without irony. For instance, after a weekend of many carbs: “wow, I really need to go on a bacon cleanse this week”. Prepare for your husband to chuckle and say “that’s just so wrong!”

5 – When you walk into a clothing store, take your best girlfriend/gay husband that likes to shop (not you, Matt). You will need her to say “no seriously, that WILL fit you….try it on”, even if you’re convinced that there is no way in heck it will fit the vision you have of yourself in your head. She’s also good for “um, no…..old ladies wear that” and “if you say you’re sad that you can’t shop in plus sizes because they have cute stuff, I will punch you”

6 – While feeling better overall and feeling healthier and more energetic, you will still have days where you feel fat and like your skin doesn’t quite fit. I hear skinny girls have these days too. I’ll let you know once I’m there.

7 – Your husband may not recognize you when you walk in the door.

8 – You will not look cute naked. But who cares? So little of your day is spent naked, why obsess over that small part? Spanx will make it all ok.

9 – Some folks, even relatives, may not want you to get ‘too skinny’. I suggest leaving that up to your better judgment and your surgeon and not giving it a second thought.

10 – Not everyone is looking at you. Not everyone knows you’ve lost weight. To most people in life you are just normal. Get used to normal. Attention can be addictive. No longer are people looking at you because you’re ‘too fat’…..and not every person is gushing because ‘ohmygodyoulooksogood’. Now you are just a person. It’s very easy to have narcissistic expectations based on past experiences – both negative and positive. It’s easy to expect people to know what you know. Mostly people are more concerned about themselves, as well they should be!

Ah, healthcare. Something I’d think we could all get behind and yet, once again it boiled down to an abortion argument for many people? I don’t even know how they DID that. That’s like…..wizardry. It is THE rabbit pulled out of the hat.

I feel sometimes like there is a small group of anti-progressives that are getting weaker and more fringy and we’re watching them stand in the middle of the room and scream. Fewer and fewer people are paying attention to them and someone is about to take away their toys. So they scream and get the others susceptible to fear worked into a lather. There they stand, with their fingers in their ears, screaming louder and louder, hoping that they can drown out anyone who has an idea that doesn’t penetrate their bubble.

It’s kinda’ crazy. And amusing.

There are people I respect who disagree with this health care reform. And that’s ok. Totally ok. But I’d like those people to know two things:

1 – those screaming maniacs yelling ‘baby-killer’ and spitting on our elected officials and calling other despicable names all look like they are your side. That’s your representation. You might want to do something about that. Your representation is clearly stating to the world “we will never compromise…our way or no way. Every other way is evil. Armageddon will happen if you don’t do what we want”

2 – I don’t agree with this bill. It’s true. I want single-payer, universal healthcare. I want public funding for abortions so that pro-choice is really pro-choice (right now ‘pro-choice’ only exists for those that can afford it – there is no choice for the poor that get pregnant). Yet, I am happy about tonight’s bill because I am willing to compromise. Heavily compromise. It’s progress in the right direction. I know for a fact that a lot of people that voted for this were compromising. I wish the opposition would be willing to compromise as well.

When medicare was passed, people freaked. When social security was passed, people freaked. Recently, when states passed gay marriage laws, people freaked…..and guess what? The world did not end. People are still living and working and getting along just fine. The world will not end because more people can get access to health care.

We voted for Obama. He won. He promised this. Why is anyone surprised?

We stood in the kitchen and watched CNN. Day three. Aftermath photos and video of Haiti. There are no words to describe. I kept wondering if I should watch it. I’m such a sensitive person, seeing a man crushed under rubble will haunt me for a while. Should I put myself through this? Should I stand and watch the piles of bodies and the unthinkable horror?

But it’s not about me.

Five or so years ago I watched “Hotel Rwanda”. After it was over I cried and cried. I not only felt helpless but I felt stupid. I felt so stupid for not knowing when it was happening. For not taking action. For not even being able to write a senator or protest or spread the word.

I might feel helpless about Haiti and I might feel like texting a few dollars here and there, in the greater scheme of things, seems so pointless (I realize it’s not, but it does feel hollow and cheap and easy for me) – but I will not feel stupid. Not this time.

My eyes are, and will stay, wide open.

I had completely forgotten that when we lived in Boston, I had a small part in the making of this. Hilarious.

Keep in mind this was during the march to war. This was when if you even thought twice about speaking out against or questioning our government, you were considered a traitor.

WARNING: If you are prone to being offended by drug use, parodies about patriotism, liberal funnies, bad lighting or stilted voice over – you should not watch this video.

I wish I knew how to get rid of this feeling. It’s sadness but it’s also a lack of control. I’ve felt this way my entire life when anything outside of me is hurting and I can’t make it stop. It’s physically painful for me to not be able to help.

I read a statistic that something like 90% of the elderly in nursing homes are never visited. Can you imagine? Your length of your days up until you die and no one comes to see you. It makes me weep. Bitter tears.

The elderly get to me more than anything. And the homeless. Loneliness…..it just tears at me for them. Why am I so lucky? And how can I help?

Yeah – I know I can volunteer and have in the past. We have plans over the holidays and I want to do more in 2010 (it is actually my one and only resolution) – but it doesn’t make it stop. It’s a bandaid. Hell – it’s not even a bandaid.

One of my biggest issues personally is getting past my own tears. I’m very emotional and you pretty much see everything on my face. I’m no good at hiding it – and if I’m gonna cry – I’m gonna cry. Several years ago we spent Christmas morning in a nursing home and I handled it while I was there – but after leaving I lost it. And I’m so raw afterwards it makes it difficult to do again. I’m just not a person that is going to ever become ‘used’ to it.

Even writing this feels so absurd. Like I’m complaining about feeling empathy.

I wish I could explain what goes on inside. I wish I could explain how much it rips at me to ultimately not be able to do a thing.

Just makes me sad. Because I don’t think anyone should be alone. Because I don’t think anyone should be homeless. Because I don’t want anyone to feel hopeless. Because I don’t want anyone to feel despair.

And yeah – I know it doesn’t do fuckall for me to feel it for them.

I don’t think there is a word for how I feel right now. “Overwhelmed” is too dramatic with a tinge of sad. “Awed” sounds like a come-to-jesus moment. It’s….big….and free….and light as air with a hint of want-to-happy-cry tied up with a sprinkle of disbelief.

Let me back up.

In general I hear from people around me how my body is changing. Sometimes I get embarrassed when people who haven’t seen me in a while exclaim how great I look: after ‘Thanks!’ I don’t know what to say. Usually I talk about the surgery or find some other way to deflect from them focusing on how I look. But at the same time I’m thrilled. It’s…..see, I need a new word here too! It’s absolutely nothing I have ever experienced before.

Even though I see it, I don’t see it (which sounds really ridiculous and cliche). At least I don’t see it like other people do. Not like Brad does when he hugs me and says “Oh my god you’re so much smaller” and I get to feel girlish and little. Not like Tab does when she just stops and says “I can’t get over how thin your shoulders are”. But for me….I see me naked so I see how much I have to go and it’s only been FIVE MONTHS (today, actually).

The other night, I laid my hand on my husband’s back and didn’t recognize my wrist. It’s small. I can see bones. I can circle my wrist with my thumb and forefinger and overlap my fingers. On his back it looked delicate. Pretty. Feminine. I loved it. But it was a surreal experience to look at that wrist and think “who does THAT belong to?”

Tonight, in my usual night owl ritual of late, I decided to go ahead and finish cleaning out my closet. It was time to get rid of more clothes in my ever dwindling wardrobe. I knew a few of my bigger items wouldn’t fit. I knew a few tops would be a little big but still ok to wear for now.

What I wasn’t expecting was what happened when I tried on one of my favorite skirts.

I tried on the top I wear with it and it’s roomy but still looks cute (man was I stretching out a LOT of tops at my highest weight!)…then I pulled on the flirty little summer skirt and……

my jaw dropped

my head literally started spinning

I considered waking up Brad to share the moment with him

(it was literally like every ’shock’ moment in every bad movie you’ve ever seen)

This is a skirt that I had to wear up under my boobs because it was the smallest part of my body. This was a skirt that has no elastic in the waist at all and it fit me snug. This is a skirt….well, fuck, just let me show you…..

If I let go, it falls to the floor. I would have to put a cantaloupe in there for it to stay taut.

Five months is NOT enough time to get used to that kind of change. It’s certainly not enough time to find new words to describe it.

Well, it’s that time of year again! No, I don’t mean joy and love – I mean when I’m accused of trying to take the ‘Christ’ out of ‘Christmas’. Now, I don’t get too upset about this, really. But I’ve been hearing a lot of things recently along the same lines that I’d like to talk about:

1 – By saying ‘Happy Holidays’ instead of ‘Merry Christmas’, I am taking the Christ out of Christmas

2 – By allowing gay men and women to marry the sanctity of marriage is being threatening.

3 – My mother recently informed me that the ACLU (who, by the way, has many many times fought for people’s – even Christian’s – religious rights) has nothing better to do than to try to destroy Christianity (her words, not mine).

I have something I have to get off my chest about the first one: Christianity did not invent huge winter celebrations that involved candles and singing and food and love and sharing and joy. They put a new name on it, but it’s the same holiday that has been celebrated for hundreds of years before Jesus showed up (when he showed up in the spring, let’s not forget). It was celebrated as a way to worship the sun (the Son, get it?) – so it was taken over when Christians realized they could use it and the church wanted to do away with various other traditions. If you want to be pure about your Christmas – then get that pagan tree out of your house. You did know you stole that idea from the pagans, right? But I digress.

These three things keep bringing me back to the same question: Christmas, Christianity, marriage – they are all individually based beliefs. How can I destroy your belief in a higher being, or take Christ out of your Christmas, or destroy your marriage? Those things are solely up to you. I don’t even WANT to destroy those things. They work for you – then great!! I’m happy for you, sincerely. So why can’t I say ‘Happy Holidays’ with no grief, or watch my gay friends get married, or spend time on a subway without being assaulted by someone proselytizing. Can’t you just focus on your own Christmas, marriage and relationship with god?

This has been a message from your local happy, well-adjusted agnostic. Thank you.

People treat me differently already. Especially men. Nicer. Not anything lurid, just kinder…more flirtatious. More ’sweeties’ and ‘babies’ and ‘mamis’. In the moment, of course I love it. I love being nice to people and I love it when people are nice to me. It feels good. And…people are nicer to me now.

In turn, I fine myself being more….demure? I don’t have to be so overly-self-conscious-girl nice to people – trying to force their hand and prove I’m worth their friendliness. It’s happened kinda’ naturally but I find I am less likely to make a joke or try to strike up a conversation now – I don’t have to prove anything. I smile and am nice and friendly in a normal way and they reciprocate.

When I walk away or get in my car, I remember that they weren’t that way about five months ago and it bugs me.

It’s not quite anger. Or maybe it is anger. Small anger, though. It’s more ‘why?’. But why doesn’t do me a helluva lot of good.

So then I am stuck with this uncomfortable feeling, just sitting in it, trying to figure out how to process it. What box with a big bow can I put it in, to file away and understand if it comes up again?

I’ve got nothin’, so far.

Who am I mad at? Society – for treating me-61lbs-ago differently than me now (who will probably, in turn, be treated differently than me 60 more lbs from now).

But I can’t blame the guy at the parking garage for making a joke about not wanting to hit my ‘pretty legs’ with his car…..it’s not like I can say “you know what, asshole? You wouldn’t have said that when I was 60lbs fatter so shove it!” It’s not like this is a teaching moment. He’s just being cute. I can’t blame that guy for that.

And what sucks is, I can’t change society. I can’t change that people just are nice to thinner people – maybe even subconsciously – but it’s real. Even I do it: little judgments we make about people who are heavy. Even if only in our heads, they come across in our attitudes. And I can’t change it about other people even one bit, much less society as a whole.

I’m thankful that people are kind to me. It also makes me sad, though.