Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Happy Cake

Rainbow Cake from Saint Germaines Bakery in Waipahu
This is what I'm going to have for lunch. You know why? Because I just damned well feel like it.

Sometimes, a girl just needs some cake. Today, I'm that girl & that's my cake!!!

As I drive out to Waipahu (or Kalihi, depending on the boys where they want to go too) ~ I'll be thinking of you & wishing you could be here with a fork held high in salute to this beautiful yummy cake!

I'm going savor each forkful of guava/lilikoi/lime cake with whipped cream frosting. I'm going to make indecent Hmmmmmmmmmmmm sounds & let my eyeballs roll into the back of head. It's going to be that good.

Be jealous whereever you are. Very jealous.

Until I weigh in tomorrow, then you can laugh your ass off at me too!

*grins*

With love & delicious rainbow cakes~
Cy.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Fathers & Daughters: Moments of MotherHood



shells from Waianae Beach

I don't get it. I really don't get it.

How there are some men in the world, who are also fathers who can make such monsterously selfish choices for their children!

Okay, so (again) I came across yet another father of daughters who instead of training his daughters to become independant self-preserving women of substance, insists that they be little dolly princesses because he's ALWAYS going to be there to take care of them, to keep them safe, to give them all the comforts of the whatever.

BAH!!!! 

Why do men do this to their daughters? Don't they LOVE them & want them to be strong enough to care for themselves independently of a man be it father, brother, uncle or husband? Why does strong equate to impure? And keeping these girls in their fragile weak Oh woe is me! state equates to purity?

(I call a bullshit timeout on that one)

What happens when a man just isn't there by no fault of the woman? Don't these men get it, that they deliberately handicap their daughters when they fail to teach them to think for themselves, to choose for themselves, to accept consequnces for themselves, to manage themselves independently & smartly from a man?

I am not trying in any way to demean or belittle the importance of a man in a womans life.

What I am trying to get across is why don't they raise their daughters to be strong too? Not just educated or employed but soul strong. So that when life's storms start hitting hard, they can take the hits & keep on going. And be strong enough to give shelter to others as well.

Maybe that was just my dad. I was never a dolly princess. or a dolly girlfriend. or a dolly wife. or a dolly damn nothing.

I learned to use my brain & my body & my soul to get things done. I didn't like it but it made me strong and resilient. It made me fierce & clear & steady.

(Okay there were a few years when it also made me crazy, clouded & frenetic. It's all good now!)

which is kinda a good thing. unless you're a whimp of a man who can't handle his own. then me being me kinda sucks for you. *shrugs* Step it up manchild & walk like you mean it! *laughing*


Monday rant over.

With love & delicious strong-ness,
Cy.











Friday, June 22, 2012

FaithFull


One of the things I'm grateful is the ability to live a FaithFull life. It takes guts & courage to live faithfully while nanny naysayers question your rationality & sanity. I have guts a plenty & shitloads of courage!

My new favorite saying is, "I'm not crazy. I'm FaithFull. There's a difference."

And wow! What a Blessing to be FaithFull. I know what that says. It's not a misspelling.

I am literally Full up on Faith!

I've met some interesting souls this past week. Souls struggling with faith based principles. They've asked me to quantify, verify & validate my faith (not just my religious faith). They've asked for evidence of my self, my authority, my right to execute & speak on behalf of the people that I do speak & act for.

Even when my creditials of faith are proven for them, they doubt still. They question still. They see without seeing. They want signs. They want BIG OBVIOUS SIGNS. But that's just not how it works.


I am a Child of God. I am my father's daughter. I am the product of a millennia of souls who've worked hard to make me be what I am today & more importantly sacrificed so that I could choose to be the right person at the right time to do the right thing I was made to do!

Some of us speak of destiny. Those of us who understand where we came from, will understand the pre-mortal contracts we agree too.

(Again I hear the nannynags saying she's crazy! give her some prozac! I ain't crazy you basterds. I'm FaithFull. There's a difference!)

I covenanted for a certain promise to gain certain blessings. I fulfill my promise, I am blessed.

Now that doesn't mean that I don't have the same kinds of crap to deal with that everyone else does. I do. Since I have a mortal body, it has mortal needs - like food & water & shelter. Right now this body is liking donuts again.

(*sigh* Damn donuts. I'm sure I gained another 10 pounds this week! *grins*)

So the big question this week from the nannynags has been,"Well, HOW DO YOU KNOW?"

Here's how I know maggot ~ the truth speaks to me, it rings for me, it sings to me. The truth moves me. And the confirmation comes in small things... here a little, there a little until its time for me to know the larger picture of things. Most of the time, I don't know the why of things till after I've made the choice. In retrospect, then I get to know the consequences of choices.

Thank God! Most of the time, the right choice is the one I made!

My personal compass always leads me true because I have faith that it works & will lead me where I have to go & show me what I have to do. It guides me to the people I need to serve because they have to make choices to become what they need to so they can get to where they have to go to do that thing they have to do!

My God, little maggot is not a liar god. He does not & will not ever lie to me. Ever. My Father loves me. I may not always like what He speaks to me but hey! let's be honest - I don't have to like it to get done. *smiles*

With love & delicious knowing~
Cy.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

FatsoPiggySaggyAss: WIO & Weigh It In

After 6 weeks of not weighing in on the scale, I had a dr's appt on Friday.

Before I could even stop myself, I hopped up on the scale & held my breath while the nurse hustled the weights back & forth.

According to the dr's office, I am less 5 lbs than when I last weighed in on March 31.

Which is good.

I'll also confess right here & now, that I wasn't happy with that number.

So I went to the bathroom & pee'd/poo'd out another couple of pounds.

Bringing my grand total weight loss to * drum roll *
9 pounds!

It's been bugging me a lot that I wasn't satisfied with -5lbs. I wanted more pounds lost & had no problem padding it with a trip to the loo.

There is something seriously wrong when a number has that much power over a person!

And before you say well, that's not so bad ... I also look about 6 months pregnant in this photo. *laughs* I already blew that photo up to see if that's really my belly protruding or if that's my black bag I'm holding.

(I'm going to say its my black bag & not my belly!)

I don't understand it - this obsession with being fitter, skinnier, smaller. Who the hell am I & where did I go?

With love & delicious fattysaggyass ~
Cy.






Wednesday, June 6, 2012

What's in a #? WIO &Weigh It In Wednesday 2/29/12



Jeans.
I have an obsession with jeans.
My obsession is that I want to be able to wear one & look good in it.


These size charts are taken from the LEE Jeans website - which goes to show you what the difference in number can mean.

Women's Plus Size

SIZEWAIST (INCHES)HIP (INCHES)
16W37 1/2 - 3846 1/2 - 47
18W38 1/2 - 3947 1/2 - 48

Women's Regular Size
16P34 1/4 - 3543 1/4 - 44
18P35 3/4 - 36 3/445 - 46

The jeans that are still parked in my closet are a 12.

Last Saturday at the Mall, I saw stacks & stacks of jeans. In the regular section. Had I lost enough inches to fit a pair of regularly sized jeans?

I grabbed a 14, a 16 & a 18. Not the ones marked Plus Size or Women sized. Just regular sizing. Took a deep breath & headed for the fitting rooms. Walked slowly to the last dressing room at the end of the hall. Felt like I was going to my doom.

In some sort of mental haze I tried the largest size first - my logic being that if an 18 isn't going to fit, then there's no hope of fitting into a 16 never mind a 14.

It fit.

Good God Almighty! It fit!

Okay, so it was long because I'm short (5'1 on a good day) & I don't wear heels. But the point is - I got them up over my taro thighs & buttoned them. That counts in my book as a FIT.

So then I tried on the 16. Sucked my gut in & told myself that it wouldn't be so very bad if they didn't fit.
Up.
Up.
and over
and buttoned!

these fit too!!!

And I saved the best for last... the 14.

I got them up & over & buttoned but I ain't gonna lie & tell you it was a good fit.
Jeans are not supposed to tourniquets.
Maybe if I wore them enough times it would give a little bit & then I could breathe a bit more.

But really? Who needs to breathe if you can fit into a size 14 pair of jeans?

I think honestly that the last time I fit into a 14 was when I was 14 years old. And even then I might not have fit it.

And now the disclaimer: Even though I could fit into all of these jeans without muffin tops or ass spillage - they didn't make my legs or ass look shapely or lifted. They made my bottoms looks squashed. Which is not a look I am interested in.

So as I left the fitting room elated that there are jean sizes I couldn't fit into before - I also realized that just because it fits doesn't mean you should wear it.

And I hung them up on the returns rack.

Why is this whole jeans size number a victory for me?

Because just a few short years ago  - they didn't make jeans in my size. Or if they did, they were in sizes I was ashamed to buy in. Instead I wore stretchy pants & knit pants & those horrible awful only fatass people wear them polyester silky lycra blend pants. I remember I even thought about buying a pair of black jeans from the Men's Big & Tall store in town. Big Man Jeans.

*shakes my head* There are some levels of desperate that fat should not drive you too.

I've been there. I know what its like to be fat.

I was that fat girl who:

  • you hoped to God did not get the bus seat next to you or else you'd be shoved over by fleshy spillage. 
  • when I walked by my ass was still jiggling (along with my belly, my boobies, my what evers) & people laughed at me. 
  • when I found clothes at WalMart/Kmart in the Plus Size section was joyful when I came across a 5x or 6x in shirts or pants & bought as many as I could because you never know when you'd see them again. 
  • told other fatgirls that if you're gonna give away your clothes, let me know because I want them! 
  • had to special order her panties from the fatgirl catalogues because stores only stocked up to a size 10 (or maybe a 12 if you were lucky enough to get there before all the other fatgirls bought them out).
  • scoped out the seating plans at a restaurant so that I had a arm-less chair because I couldn't slide comfortably in to a booth.


I don't need to do that any more. And God willing I will never need to do that ever again either. I don't even need to shop in the Plus Size women's sections any more.

Which really shocked the hell out of me the other day.

When did this all happen???
Not over night that's for sure. Because nothing happens over night!

Oh! And I can fit into a bikini!
Ha!
Oh! Was that a fun time in the dressing room!
I about burned my own eyes looking at myself in the mirrors - I couldn't inflict that kind of damage on anyone else!

(Mother Hubbard was shaking her head at me much & much during the bikini sampling)

But no, just because it fits does not mean I have to buy it any more. I have the freedom to choose what to buy.

And this new not as fat as I was? Its taking considerable getting used too. I am always surprised to see my reflection in a window or something as I go by.

(Holy bleeping hell?!? Is that me? When did me look like that? No wonder my kids are paranoid about the clothes I wear or where I wear those clothes when I do go some place.)

Not all my clothes have or need a X in front of the L. Some of them are a M and some of them are a S (mostly the tops & some very stretchy work out yoga tap pants). But a single L? Just regular sized.

I am triumphant! I am fierce! I am so ready to rip it up at the gym!
(I also hold my breath in & cast my gaze around in fear - anxious for some skinny bitch to report me as an impostor. I don't belong here. Security! Please remove the fatso freakass lady from the premises!)

I bought a dress yesterday. For .99 cents. Its a size 10. A real dress like the kind you buy at Neiman Marcus. Which does not have a plus size section last time I checked. I can fit it. Almost. I have too much boobs & back for it. But I can work on that. And then I'll fit it real good & I'll show you all what it does for me.

Until then,
With love & delicious jeans ~
Cy.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Better Her than Me: Time Out Tuesdays



So I heard from a friend that the Ex got re-married last week.
(I haven't been able to second source it yet but considering that my friend is a good solid source & that she heard it direct from the Ex, I'm going to assume its true.)

Wow. The Ex is married. To someone else.
Good for him. No. Really. Good for him.
And Good for her. Seriously. Because better her than me.
(which is what one bitch said of me when I married him the first time around. *laughs* Oh the Irony of that statement! *laughs*)

And just for the record: I don't want him back. I want him to be happy & it looks to me like happy has a different name than mine.

I won't lie and say that it didn't catch at me & give me a hitch in my step for a bit there. It did. Because of who he married & what she is.

She is Mormon. They were married by a Bishop of our faith in a chapel of our church. He is Mormon. (That's a little known fact. He really is Mormon.)

Wow.

Talk about it takes a huge sucking leap of faith on my part to leave this at God's door because I know for a fact that while we were still married, they were already engaged in illicit behaviors (nice way of saying screwing around) but here they are getting legally wedded in a church - a religious place that I believe in by a man called of God- which I also believe in.

Wow. Again, one more time with feeling .... Wow!

[Side note to God: Okay, God. I don't get that but I get that You get this. For whatever purposes in this world & the next, this works for You (and for them). And really in the long term perspective (we're talking multiple eternities here) I'm not God & I can't see the things that God does.]

So that mess of fatty hotness? *points at them* works for God & it works for them. It works for me too then.

But what does that mean for me?

Nothing. Because he's moved on & me & my children are collateral damages of a past he doesn't want to remember.

Does that sound harsh? It's true. He & She want to erase us from their history. Too bad. We don't get what we want, we get what we need.

[Another side note to God: seriously God? Do I really need another sister who hates my guts & wants to kill me? I already have one of those! Ok, Thanks. Just checking]

It'll be an adventure having this woman for a sister seeing as how that idiot  her new husband & I share children & that makes her an extended part of their/my family. Oh well, its not as if I don't have sisters (real blood sisters) that also hate my guts & want to kill me.

(I live to inspire such awesomeness in others *note the sarcasm please*winks*)

Welcome to the new Mrs. T! I'm sure you'll enjoy your new title/husband way more than I ever did & probably use it/him more happily & more frequently than I ever did. Well... I shouldn't be snarky about it. *smiles* Let's just leave it at Welcome Sister T!

With love & delicious new additions to the dinner table ~
Cy.

Monday, June 4, 2012

The Good Only Gets Better!: Moments of MotherHood


2003. What a big year for me - literally & figuratively! (Katzu is maybe about 6 months old in this picture. I'm most likely a size 44 bra & 4x shorts. This is also most likely after I gained 60+lbs during my 3 month stint on Prozac for post-partum depression. Also again not my highest weight or size)

Wow! Look at me! Look at Katz!
To borrow from an old smokes ad ~ "We've come a loooooooooooooong way, baby!"

Today marks 9 years since I moved my children & I to Hawaii from Samoa. We've spent 9 years finding our place & making our time count. It's been a delicious adventure so far. Certainly not what I expected at all!

Well, lets see what nine years have bought me.


My children are healthy & happy & well. They are home & they are safe. What price would I pay for the surety of knowing they are exactly right where they ought to be & headed to where they should go?

I'd pay any price, make any sacrifice, do whatever it takes to get it done. I'd become the kind of person I have to be to do the work I said I would.

These guys are my everything for the short duration that I have them. Some day sooner instead of later - all three of them are going to head out for their own destinies & families.

Wow! I can't wait to see them become husbands & fathers. To lead their own little people to where they have to be to do the things they have to do.

Then we will truly see what these years have been worth. Until then ~

With love & delicious Nine Year celebrations!
Cy.

PS. Ok, I'm just a little bit vain.... nine years later that's me now & all those haters can just suck it! Ha!